Animal Urges - Chapter XIV

Chapter XIV -- Crossroads

Some days later, Aela, Vilja, and I found ourselves at the crossroads south of Whistling Mine in Winterhold, making our way west toward Mount Anthor. We had another dragon to take care of, this time for the Jarl of Winterhold. Another Stormcloak-Imperial battle had recently ended here, and I found the futility of the conflict, as well as other thoughts, wrestling with my consciousness as I surveyed the grim scene.

I wearied of snide remarks from guards and townspeople about finding my 'wolfish grin unsettling', or smelling like a wet dog, or questioning if I had fur growing out of my ears. Furthermore, despite Vilja's assertion that she was not afraid of me - both Aela and I had a tendency to involuntarily take on beast form when under stress - or her avowal that she thought I was 'kind of cute' when I was a werewolf, and how she has 'always loved dogs' - I was dissatisfied. Nevertheless, none of this yet decided me; nor even when Vilkas and then Farkas came to me and asked for their cure, and I made but a half-hearted attempt to dissuade them.

"I will never forget hunting with you, sister," Vilkas told me. "And I know the nights will never be again. But, like Kodlak, I am a Nord, and I fear for my soul. I wish to know glory in the afterlife.

"Perhaps you will join me, sister? Then we can still be... together?"

"I... will miss you too, brother, but I cannot."

"As you wish. But it would be my honour if you would accompany me, Harbinger."

I did so, and although I was sore temped again, especially after the twins' comments following - likening it to the effect of 'a warm mug of spiced mead' or how their minds were no longer 'clouded with thoughts of the hunt' - I did not partake. Vilkas, oddly, even said something about no longer being able to 'smell my heart beating', and although I had not thought of it like that, I know what he meant.

Nonetheless, I had yet to collect all of the Totems of Hircine with Aela, and I would know the benefits of having them all. Each on its own bestowed a blessing of sorts when in beast form, similar to various benedictions one received at any shrine in Skyrim. I needs must admit, as well, that I did not want to lose Aela, for I was certain that she would not accept the cure, and I knew this would force me to choose between her and Vilja; but I did not want to renounce any of it.

I found it all quite vexing, not to mention inflaming, especially so when, every chance she had, Vilja stripped naked to swim (despite her complaints that the water in Skyrim is too cold). Her pale skin, wisp of blonde hair not nearly covering her perpetually distended nether lips - it was too much. I knew she was not deliberately teasing me, but I do not believe she is utterly innocent of the effect she has on me, either. Thus, the circumstances that found all three of us - Aela, Vilja, and I - together nude with several other swimmers at the hot pools near Eldergleam Sanctuary a while back, were incredibly frustrating for many reasons, not least of which is that, by all the gods, a dragon attacked us.

There we were, Vilja, Aela, and I, bare as newborns but for a bit of jewellery, along with two other naked women and a man, with aught but weapons - and some magic - to fight a dragon; it must have been a remarkable sight. Withal, if it were not for my Shouts and Vilja's magic, plus whatever the others were able to do - I was too busy to notice - it may have ended badly for us all. Indeed, we were lucky that any of us were alive (and I am a little surprised that Aela and I did not take beast form under such duress). As it betided, the dragon grabbed the poor man in its jaws, shook him like a wolf with a skeever, and later we could not find much left of him to bury or burn.

That left five naked, wounded, stressed women.

Have you ever noticed how women's nipples harden after exertion, even if it is not sexual? I have - as I noticed all of ours then. I, for one, was moist betwixt the legs, too. The strangers were so impressed with how I had absorbed the dragon's soul - recognising me as Dragonborn - I am certain they would have been amenable to any advance I proffered. Thus, with all the luscious flesh on display prior and following that battle, Aela and I were all at once in sore need of sating our other lust. Moreover, I had to be hands-on in assisting Vilja to heal the others' wounds, which of course only frustrated me more. Hence, with only one another to rely upon to relieve both hungers, Aela and I did so that night.

---

Following our hunt - which, as was now our custom, we restricted to game animals or 'miscreants' - I subsequently found myself pondering how finding time and place both for sex and the hunt had become ever more problematical.

I know it hurts Vilja when I have sex within her hearing, let alone sight, and so Aela and I needs must tryst a ways off to spare her. Not too difficult, given that we do not need to sleep in the same, or a nearby, tent, although we set one up anyway, to be out of the ofttimes harsh Skyrim elements. Even so, however much I disliked leaving Vilja alone on these occasions, this was not the greatest problem, either; it was becoming... trite. Although we could not wear one another out, I felt some staleness with Aela, and I sensed she felt it as well. By this time, of course, Vilkas and Farkas had been human again for quite some time, and therefore both of us were pining for male company. I admit that we even tried... enticing some of our male wild brethren whilst in beast form, but it did not work; we scared them, it seemed. Neither did we yearn to seek others of our own kind; the skinwalkers, for some reason, did not recognise us as kin, although they would not attack us, either.

Do not misunderstand me, however; speaking for myself as well as, I know, for Aela, I did not value male and female sex partners in that one or the other was preferable. I prized both sexes equally for their differences, the same as I sought experience with different races. It is the variety I crave, to allay the hunger. Furthermore, I do not see one sex or the other as more or less 'loveable' than the other; I deem myself capable of loving either male or female equally - and perhaps even more than one at a time.

As I pondered these thoughts, however, I questioned my notion of 'love' in its primal sense. I had not heretofore experienced it - at least the love that all the bards sing of - and thus, what could I know of it? That is, what do I feel for Aela; is it love, or merely lust? What of Vilja? I am deeply attracted to the blonde Nord, but is it only a physical longing for something that is, for the nonce, beyond my grasp? Did I love her as I did Aela, or was it something different? How could I even know, as a beast?

Once more, I cast my mind back a few nights.

~~~

"Aela." We lay beside one another in the tent, no longer touching, on our fur sleeping pallets. The Skyrim wind whipped the omnipresent snow about our tent in the darkness; the chilly draughts soon cooled our ardour. I had regained most of my breath from the latest of my climaxes. "What... do you know of love?"

She emitted that snort-laugh of hers, pulled on her bottled of Colovian, as did I on mine. "Overrated."

"But, have you ever loved anyone?"

"Are you asking me if I'm in love with you?"

"No." I downed another gulp or two. For some reason I did not want to know her answer. "I just... I only want to know if I - if we, as beasts, I mean - can know love."

A moment ere she responded, "I'm not the one to ask." She finished her brandy, tossed the empty aside.

"Why-I mean, who should I ask, then?"

"Not me." The Huntress turned away, faced the rippling tent wall. I studied her nude form in the brazier light: muscled back and shoulders; slim waist; strong, round buttocks; firm thighs and calves; goose bumps beginning to rise in the chill. I tried to ignore my rekindling desire. Clearly, she would not discuss the subject.

I could thus only speculate that perhaps something in her past had soured her on 'love'; perchance, this was the reason she would be content as a werewolf. On the other hand, mayhap the rumour that she and Skjor had been more than friends was accurate, and the Huntress was not - would never be - over him. Whatever the case, she certainly seemed sincere in her veneration of Hircine, as I knew I could never be; as I have mentioned, I have no use for deities and their manipulations of us 'mortals'.

~~~

Which was another reason for my ambivalence; I had been brooding on the rest of the Circle's decision to remove the 'taint' of lycanthropy so they could anticipate their vision of the afterlife. To what could I look forward? As a Redguard, though orphaned young and raised in a tavern, I knew that Tu'whacca Yokudan, god of souls, would guide me as the other gods set a series of trials before me on the way to the Far Shores. If I failed, I would find myself banished to the Dreamsleeve, whence I could either languish for an eternity or, perhaps, be reborn for another opportunity at life, as some races believed (Imperials, for one). Yet, did I wish to sit at the knee of some Daedric Prince, or take my chances with trials and perhaps move on to a new life? After all, I have proven myself reasonably competent in this short existence thus far.

As I revealed, I never knew my parents, and I spent my childhood in a tavern. I will not speak of it herein, other than to say I disliked my life, and sought to better my lot. I availed myself of every opportunity to learn: to read and write, for example. An old Imperial merchant - notice I did not say 'kindly', as he was not; he used me for his own purposes - taught me my letters and numbers. Thus did I learn how to get what I wanted - using guile, sometimes stealth, and both aspects of my physicality, including sex and, later on, my formidable strength. I also learned of the greater world from travellers, and developed a yearning to see and experience it - as if getting away from my virtual enslavement were not incentive enough.

"Should we return?" Aela asked abruptly.

For an instant, I thought she meant to whence I came, which provoked a violent reaction within me; but I answered, "Yes." I needs must ponder my reaction more closely sometime anon.

I return to the present crossroads.

Even Aela, it seemed, was not unaffected by this war. "Damn shame," she murmured.

Corpses littered the slopes amidst rocks and scrub; guts, limbs, a head or two liberally strewn; blood soaked virtually every speck of snowy ground. This time, I felt no poignancy, only sadness.

Vilja, apparently, thought I had other things on my mind. "If we meet someone when you're a werewolf," she proposed, "we could just pretend that you're a dog. I'm sure they would believe us."

Her comment did not sink in until I heard Aela snickering behind me, apparently unsure if she ought to be laughing, considering the scene.

Trying to hold the mirth inside, I did not turn around; instead heeled my mount, continued westward.

---

Some weeks later, intending to return to the hot spring near Eldergleam Sanctuary for a little rest and recreation, we happened upon yet another Stormcloak-Imperial battle. This time, however, a giant had somehow gotten embroiled in the conflict, and - by all the gods, again! - another dragon joined the fray. Even so, combatants would not set aside their differences to confront either, greater threat; everywhere small pockets of soldiers battled one another, whilst a dragon circled overhead breathing fire down upon them and a giant indiscriminately knocked them flying. I was appalled, and incredulous. Withal, I entered the fight myself, albeit only to battle the dragon.

When it was over, the dragon carcass lay atop several soldiers. I had not delivered the final blow, and thus it did not disintegrate, and I was unable to absorb its soul. This was a minor annoyance, however, compared to the stupidity of the entire conflict.

Vilja was not happy when I immediately cancelled our relaxation trip, and instead headed toward Windhelm. I barely stopped - and then only in respect of Vilja and our horses, who still needed rest - until we arrived in Solitude, whence lay Castle Dour and the Imperial Legion's headquarters.

Continued in Chapter XV

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