In Blood and Fear (Skyrim Fanfiction)

Chapter 15: Living Nightmares

Powerless.
Her screams were unheard as they disintegrated in the overwhelming winds that pushed her farther away.
She could hear him calling.
Only a vast, empty, frozen tundra of loneliness.
Frosted shards of ice burned her veins painfully.
Then nothing.
Deafening silence washed over the abyss of the void.
Darkness consumed her body as she sunk deeper in an ocean of death.
Moans of agony and despair filled her clouded mind with confusion and paranoia.
Lifeless, cold hands began to pull her apart.
She was paralyzed with fear.
Powerless.

She woke up with tears sliding down her damp cheeks. She found herself in a large tent that sat in the middle of a small, makeshift camp. The sun had just begun to peak through the distant mountains, marking a new day. A pile of bodies covered in a large pelt laid beside a smouldering campfire that must have been put out hours ago, since a few dying embers still flickered lightly as small clouds of smoke swirled in the musty air. The tent itself was quite large on the inside, made with large wooden poles and animal skin. Probably a forsworn raid. She then felt a slight tug around her waist. Her companion was holding her tightly and protectively, fast asleep. He probably brought her here after last nights events. She quickly wiped the tears from her face before she slowly slipped back into the poorly made bed, back beside her fellow traveler, but he didn't seem to notice. They then both slept silently for a few more precious hours of much needed sleep.

The Dragonborn awakened once again when she no longer felt her friend laying at her side. Her vision was blurred, her muscles sore, her face still damp, and she felt both confused and slightly betrayed. "Did he abandon me here as a consequence for my actions?" She silently mouthed to herself. The air felt heavy and uncomfortable, making her breathe unevenly. The atmosphere was tense, making a shiver strike down her spine. She stood up slowly, clutching her dress. It was laced with burn marks and had a jagged rip down the side. She then spotted a crouched figure poking at the fire pit. She sighed in relief before jogging over to stand beside him, only to realize that this man wasn't her companion. The man straightened himself and watched her curiously. The corners of his mouth curled with a threatening grin, his teeth jagged and stained, which matched his grizzly, menacing face. He was much taller then her and at least twice her size. She glanced down at his chest, which had a massive, poorly stitched hole where his heart should be. In his hearts place was an oddly shaped plant. He was a Briarheart.

The Briarheart lifted his hand to her face and gently traced circles on her cheek. "What is a pretty young little lady like yourself doing all the way out here, surrounded by my dead men?" He chuckled seductively, but his tone was still harsh and impatient. Her fists clenched with anger. "Hunting my prey." She spat with disgust. He grunted and pulled his weapon from his leather belt and put it against her throat. This wasn't the first time she's been threatened. It wouldn't be her last. "Now now, that is no way to talk to me sweetheart." The Briarheart purred with his silver tongue. "Then how may I speak to you handsome?" She giggled girlishly, deciding to play along with his game. He dropped his weapon from her throat carelessly, thinking he had won her over, but was proven wrong after she kicked him in the stomach and stood on his back after he fell to the ground in pain and shock. "Instead of talking, allow me the courtesy of ending your miserable life!" She chirped confidently, digging her heels into his back. "Why you little-" the man began, but was interjected by her sword splitting his head open like a delicate urn found in Dwemer ruins that would shatter into a million pieces.

After stepping off of his body and wiping the blood from her weapon on the Briarhearts armor, made of loose pelts put together, she searched the camp for her companion. She found him standing off to the side, smiling at her proudly. The Dragonborn glared at him agitatedly, still angry at him for leaving her to deal with the Forsworn Briarheart by herself. "You could have said something." She growled, trying to avoid eye contact. "You did excellent without my assistance." He gleamed with excitement, and was surprised by her ways of manipulation. "Well I suppose." She muttered bashfully, her cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink. He smirked at her final response before dragging the body over to the others, covering them up once more and lighting the pile with a stick that still burned brightly from the dying fire. He threw the stick into the pile and watched the bonfire, dusting the ash from his hands. After lighting the bodies on fire, he walked over to where the other Orc was standing and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm not mad at you." He sighed with hesitation, searching for the right words to say. "I know." Was her final response, placing her hand on top of his. They both stood there silently and motionless, watching the fire blaze violently.