Skyrim's Saviors

38: Red Meridwulf

Walking through the woods, a dagger in each boot, and a sword hanging at my hip, I feel like I am a bit more comfortable than I should be. I have to find Farkas. I need to find him, gods know how long I have in here. I reach a point where there is a stream running fast, and I stop, looking for a bridge or way to cross this river.

Suddenly, I sense something behind me. I draw my sword and turn, and it is too late. A werewolf swipes at me, slicing across my face, cutting into my skin and most likely scarring me more. I cry out and swipe, disemboweling the werewolf. They collapse to their knees, howling. I bury the sword in the creature's open mouth, silencing them.

But too late.

A pack of werewolves surround me, and I step back, looking at each of them. I cannot morph, being pregnant. But is Farkas in here, in this particular pack?

I glance over my shoulder, and see that I am at the very edge of the water, and it drops into a waterfall. I turn and sprint towards it, the wind and my tears from pain stinging the bloody streaks across my face.

The wolves howl, and I leap into the air, feeling one swipe at me, and it slices into my lower leg. I cry out, as I fall down, down, down into the cold water below. My sword is flung free of me, and I swim as fast as I can, trying to reach it. Suddenly, arms are around me, and I am being dragged upwards (or I think I'm going up) and just as my lungs are screaming for air, I break the surface of the water, and I feel myself being pulled towards the shore.

I scramble out of the person's grasp, and cough and cough up water until there's none left in my lungs.

I am soaked and I only have the daggers in my boots. I draw them out, turning around to face the person who dragged me from the water.

"Why save me?!" I bark.

I see the man, a Nord with gray hair, wearing wolf armor sitting on his knees on the bank. "No time to bicker, whelp, there's wolves ready to tear us apart."

I look at the person, wondering if he's a Companion of old.

But .... why did he call me "whelp"? Only two people ever called me that. Vilkas ... and ...

"Skjor?" I breathe.

He looks up sharply. "Now that's a name I haven't heard in forever."

"By the Nine," I whisper. "Aela would flip if she saw you here!"

"Aela the Huntress? She's alive?"

I nod. "Yes, oh, yes. But I'm not the whelp anymore, I am Harbinger. After Kodlak's death, I became Harbinger. Vilkas and I had thought we'd killed off the Silver Hand, but as it turns out, we did not. And they forced Farkas to die. I'm here looking for him."

Skjor shakes his head. "He's dead, like me, whelp. Nothing can change that."

"But Hircine said if I survive this place and find Farkas, I can have him back," I say.

His eyes search mine and then he nods. "Aye. You love him."

"Like you loved Aela."

"I still do."

I smile. "Maybe we can help you see her again. She mourned you so much. I was there for her, but she was not letting me in."

Skjor nods. "That sounds like her."

A wolf howl pierces the air. He looks up, and then back to me. "Why aren't you in your wolf form?"

"Why aren't you?"

"So you'd recognize me and not stab me," he says.

"Oh. Well, I uh, Farkas and I.... he died before I found out that I am going to be a mother."

His eyes widen once more. "And you came here? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I need him back! Vilkas needs him, Aela needs him. Our baby needs him."

"Babies," he says.

"What?"

Another howl, closer this time.

"You're having twins. Girls."