Hunter Or The Hunted? Options

[The Wolf]

Hecerilar, the altmer hunter, sat on a bar stool. He was in a bar called 'Broken Sword', in western parts of Skyrim. It had been tough to get there, but he had finally made it. He was here to hunt the wolves.

Suddenly he realized, that he was surrounded by nords. As he sipped his mead, one of them spoke.

"What's this 'ere, a lonely elf in the land of frost? Feeling a bit... chilly, eh?" First the nord seemed offencive, but then, suddenly, he smiled warmly, and patted the altmer's back.

"Sorry about that." Quick exchange of glances between the nords. "You look like a good huntsman. Have you heard of the great Snow Wolf that lurks up the hills? We've seen sometimes it's tracks, which are huge, but we haven't found it nor seen it."

There was something strange going on here, Hecerilar knew, but he already could picture the beast's pelt as his helmet. It was far too great temptetion for him. He remained silent.

"Afraid, elf?" the nord mocked. "Don't go, elf." He whispered that, suddenly looking him with a strange look in his eyes. Was it pity, remorse? "Some others have done that, but have never returned."

Hecerilar just laughed.


*****

To Be Continued.....

[The Wolf]

Nightmares bothered him. Hecerilar walked the icy lanes of the small village, and saw his father across the street. He shouted to him, calling him to come. His father did not respond. He started to walk slowly to his father, speeding as he went. He yelled his father's name. Charislar.... Suddenly the voice started to echo. ....Hecerilar....

He woke up slowly from his deep slumber. The echo didn't die, but turned into loud voices calling someone. “Little elf! Where are you? Come out, we won't hurt you!” The last phrase sounded somehow.... Malicious. He could here more shouts little further away. He bounced off the bed and to the window.

Suddenly he realized something. The fire. He quickly took the bucket of water he had melted from the snow, and threw it to the fireplace. The fire hissed. Then he realized the full extent of his error. He had added the last wood to the fire late last night. There were only embers left in the fireplace, and he had just thrown a bucket full of water to it, extinguishing the fire to cease some little puff of smoke that it created, only to cause a large cloud of smoke to rise from the chimney.

He hoped that the – whoever they were – had not noticed it. If his guess was right, he would regret the fact that he would be found. He listened.

“Hey! Feros! Did you leave a fire burning to your forge?” Hecerilar cursed heavily under his breath, and tried to move as silently as he could. He picked up his outdoors clothes and put them on. Then he grabbed his potion bag. The voices were getting closer. He took a restore fatigue potion from the bag, and with some juggling managed to drop it. He froze. “Did you hear that?” Hecerilar cursed with extreme words now, and not under his breath anymore. He took another potion from the bag, and gulped it down. He expected the rush of energy to come. He checked the label. 'Restore fatigue', it said with large clear letters. No apparent effect. He shrugged, grabbed his sword and headed downstairs.

“Hey! Feros, your door's lock has been broken! The elf must be here! All, come! Remember, catch him alive! Mere fast death would not be enough for this one!” Hecerilar froze just down the stairs. He could see someone opening and closing the door, as if to see the damage done to it.

He made up his mind fast. There was no way out upstairs, and the windows were too small downstairs. There was only one way out of here. The door. He took a deep breath, and sneaked to the door. He could hear the man breathing outside, and see the breath from the little opening.

He kicked the door to the man's face and made a run for it. He could hear the man cursing behind him. He headed up to the hills, where the tracks lead. An arrow flurred past his head. He ran and ran until he was out of breath. He was away from the village now.


*****

Yet to continue....