As we passed through the gates of Whiterun, Aela seized my hand.

  "Elsie, come with me to Jorrvaskr at once! I shall summon the Circle, and you will be named and recognized by all as a full-fledged Companion!"

  Her eyes blazed like twin stars, and her hair streamed in the wind like the flames of a great torch. Leif, however, remained unmoved by that wild, magnificent Valkyrie.

  "Aela..." he said with calm irony, "I have told you time and again to be patient, to be careful—and you never listen. What's the hurry? Why not come home with us to Breezehome? We can dine first, and afterward speak at leisure about this Circle of yours."

  "Yes, Aela, let us eat first and rest a little," I added with my sweetest smile. "My bones are still weary, and I'm exhausted from the journey—even though I lay in the carriage most of the way!"

  Aela's stormy gaze swept over me, then softened like mist breaking in sunlight. "Forgive me, Elsie. I forgot you are still recovering..."

  Danica, severe and fearless, fixed the Huntress with her eyes. "And you are not fully recovered either, my dear! I strongly advise both of you—no adventures, and no quarrels—for several weeks to come!"

  "My dear Danica, you are invited to dine with us as well," my daddy said with a sly wink.

  "Invitation accepted, Leif," she replied, smiling faintly.

  On the way, Lydia hurried ahead to order a feast fit for kings at the Drunken Huntsman, and soon we were all gathered in Breezehome.

  Ah, once again I felt myself at home! And that amazed me—me, the eternal wanderer, the accursed murderess, the relentless thief... I now had a home! A place where I felt safe, protected, serene, and loved. And all of this had been given to me by Leif, that frail old Dunmer who now regarded me with such tenderness.

  Yet my eyes kept drifting to the ring upon his finger—a great diamond, too large, too dazzling. His signet ring.

  'Take it when you can, kitten,' Nocturnal purred in my mind. 'Leif is wise, and he loves you as you are...'

  'No!' I cried back in silence, but She only laughed, soft and mocking. And yes, Lady Luck was right—my fingers twitched with such painful longing...

  Our dinner was pleasant and engaging, filled with old stories and legends told by Leif, who once again proved himself an exceptional storyteller. My daddy spoke at length of a mysterious and ancient war once fought in Vvardenfell, of fierce battles on the burning slopes of Red Mountain. At times, his words faltered, veiled by sorrow for the many friends he had lost.

  When the meal was done, the five of us gathered by the hearth, where the fire crackled cheerfully. From the cellar, Leif brought forth a flask thick with dust and cobwebs.

  "My last one," he said melancholically. "Carried long ago from that land which is now nothing but hardened lava and ash. Over two centuries have passed since it was sealed..."

  Aela, who until then had listened in silence, staring with shining eyes, spoke up proudly about our battle against the endless hordes of draugr. Her account was vivid and detailed, and I began to understand better how differently she fought: where I sought safety, dodging and rolling away from danger, she charged straight into the thick of it, seeking out the fiercest fighting.

  Thankfully, she had scarcely noticed what happened with the dragon—at that moment, she'd been half-conscious and bleeding heavily, so I was spared from having to explain that particular disaster.

  Eventually, she admitted with a sigh that Leif had been right: "Not even Eorlund's steel can truly kill them. They fall, aye, but after a time they rise again—missing limbs, terrible wounds, it matters not. They come at you once more, and yet again..."

  Here I intervened, lowering my gaze modestly: "I am very sorry that I could not defend you as you shielded me, Aela. My armor is so thin—it cannot protect me from heavy blows, and they all bear greatswords or big axes." I meowed this with a timid smile, and Aela burst into laughter. She ruffled my hair and said warmly, "And yet you saved my life, Elsie. Twice! You treated my wounds, brought aid from Riverwood, and then slew a snow troll! Who knows what else you have done, but your modesty keeps you from confessing it... Tell me, little one—did you try to enter the barrow?"

  "Oh no, Aela!" I lied with great innocence, fluttering my long eyelashes. "I wanted to, but that hideous beast mangled me first!"

  "Well, it paid in full for that, I believe!" Aela chuckled. "Ah, nearly forgot... Lydia, I have something for you from Elsie!" She reached into her pouch and produced the sabre cat's fang. "Because my dear sister here secretly and silently slew a magnificent feline on our way there."

  Lydia's eyes lit up as she accepted the fang, though she looked half-embarrassed, half-delighted. "Thank you... But I would have preferred you to give it to me yourself, my lady."

  I only shrugged, lips sealed, and the silence grew heavy until Aela—glowing like a torch from the wine and Leif's old stories—burst in again: "And she defeated three bandits, on top of that!"

  "No, no, my dear—you killed one yourself!" I chuckled.

  "Oh, of course I did!" Aela said with mock solemnity. "Especially since I was fast asleep, still dizzy from your wonderful ale, Lydia. Thank you again for that!"

  Everyone laughed, and even Lydia allowed herself a thin smile. Then Aela frowned in thought. "I wonder what became of the fourth... He was still alive when we left. Alive and bound!"

  I shrugged again, all innocence.

  "See, Elsie? You should have slit his throat as I told you!"

  "But that doesn't matter anymore," Aela continued with a wave of her hand. "What matters is collecting the bounty from the Jarl: a hundred septims per bandit's head!"

  "You should go, then," I said with a dainty grimace. "I won't behead dead brigands."

  "Alas, Danica here has me bound to rest," Aela sighed with exaggerated resignation. "So I'll send Ria... or perhaps Njada. Yes, Njada will do!" She tipped her cup back and laughed heartily.

  "But you, Elsie, still owe us the tale of that monstrous sabre cat!" she added, pointing at me with flushed cheeks.

  I raised my brows, gave a mischievous smile, and said, "Well then, let's speak the truth—as I did to you, Aela. Once upon a time, a very wild Huntress went rampaging around the Western Watchtower. Wolves, foxes, mudcrabs, rabbits, skeevers—none could stand against her fury and skill. But alas, fate was cruel, for in that same cursed field there wandered a poor, helpless, cute kitten. Terrified by the Huntress's carnage, she let out one pitiful mewl... and died of fright. Right beside me."

  All four of them fell silent for a heartbeat, and then the room burst into unbridled laughter. Only Aela laughed with a hint of embarrassment, murmuring, "I still don't understand why you won't tell us the real story, Elsie... I'm sure it must be a wonderful hunting tale."

  Leif cut in between bursts of laughter: "Leave her be, Aela! You'll get no more out of her. You have no idea how stubborn Elsie can be!"

  Ah, my poor daddy! He thought he knew me so well—but in truth, he still had much to learn and endure, alas!

  Then, quite suddenly, Leif grew serious. With calm reasoning and fatherly tact, he began to explain why I might not be the best candidate for the Companions. Yet he did so with such delicacy and wisdom that no one in the room felt provoked—I mean the two very dangerous beasts who sat there listening: the panther and the she-wolf! Danica helped smooth things along as well: sometimes nodding with quiet approval, other times softening Leif's monologue with well-placed, short medical advice on how both Aela and I should conduct ourselves during our recoveries.

  Thus, the evening ended in harmony and good cheer. It was agreed that Leif would visit Kodlak the very next day to settle matters most conveniently for everyone because, after all, both objectives had been left unmet: neither Lucan's bauble had been retrieved—and here I caught my father smirking—nor had Balgruuf's demand regarding Bleak Falls Barrow been fulfilled.

  Aela departed satisfied enough, after kissing me tenderly and shaking Leif's and Lydia's hands with her firm warrior's grip. Soon after, Danica too took her leave, and at last we withdrew into our cozy chambers, where peace and sleep embraced us.

  And indeed, my daddy settled everything in the most exquisite way—and that was no easy feat!

  The first matter was dealt with quickly: Kodlak agreed to name me a Friend of the Companions. That meant full access to Jorrvaskr at any hour of the day, the possibility to spar with the recruits, Eorlund Gray-Mane's services at a discounted price, and even the right to eat and sleep under their roof should I so desire. Aela accepted this as a temporary solution, though I could see in her eyes that the Huntress meant to push the matter further with time. No one in the Circle objected—not even Vilkas, who, to my surprise, would later become one of my closest and most trusted friends.

  Lucan's and Balgruuf's demands, however, were not so easily untangled. For Kodlak, Lucan's bauble meant a matter of honor: he loathed leaving any contract unfinished, for to do so risked the people's trust in the Companions' ability to handle even the most daunting assignments. Yet here my father showed his diplomatic brilliance.

  Leif went directly to Balgruuf, seated as he was in the Secret Council of Whiterun, and convinced the Earl that—at least for the time being—Bleak Falls Barrow was far too perilous to be disturbed. Better, he argued, to wait until more was known of the strange rites and undead stirrings within. And Balgruuf, weighing both his Thane's words and his own caution, agreed. He hereby declared the barrow forbidden ground to all, placing a small garrison in a nearly ruined watchtower nearby to closely observe the barrow's gate and to deny entry to anyone foolish enough to approach.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Thus, Lucan's contract was postponed until 'further clarification of the matter.' A fine diplomatic turn of phrase that meant, in truth, the affair was shelved until Masser's light turned green! And so the Companions' honor remained untarnished, for they had not failed the contract—they had simply been forbidden by the Jarl himself from entering the tomb. The same Jarl, mind you, who had ordered them to cleanse it in the first place!

  All this time, while my daddy was running back and forth, negotiating and untangling all those delicate matters—and believe me, it took him quite a while—what did I do? I thought only of the gold that had to be hidden somewhere in the bowels of that cursed mausoleum. I wanted it—oh, I needed it desperately. You see, friends, I have always been independent, accustomed from childhood to earning coin with my own claws and wits. And now? Now I was forced to rely on Leif's generosity even for a pair of shoes. Or a sweetroll, if you can believe it!

  Of course, he was unfailingly generous; not only did he never refuse me the smallest whim, but often he had the delicacy to pay for things before I even had the chance to ask. The best example? My exquisite armor, torn and battered after the Bleak Falls Barrow affair. He simply carried it off to Adrianne, asking her to mend it—and, if possible, to reinforce it—without making it too heavy or stiff. And let me tell you, friends, that cost a fortune, for the shrewd blacksmith lady knows her skill well and sells it dearly!

  All this made me restless. The serenity that had, for a few days, reigned in my heart was suddenly shattered, and I began gnawing at the same thought: I need my own money again. But what could I do? I knew nothing of use to these simple Nord folk, and I was determined—for the time being—not to resort to stealing, the only trade in which I truly excel. Skyrim's towns, no matter how large, are closed communities; people know each other, and they always guess well enough who might have "done something like that."

  Ah, but there is one blessed exception, isn't there? Yes, and this is Riften! Yet, as always, I was stubborn—stubborn and foolish—and I ignored Nocturnal's advice. Yes, advice, not order, for She rarely commands outright... She laughed long and loud from the shadows, watching me like a patient predator, yet Lady Luck said nothing more, only let me drown in despair and dream of ancient treasures.

  My daddy's research on the strange trinket salvaged from the bloody remains of the one who had once been that wretched Arvel was long and wearying. Night after night, he sat hunched over manuscripts brittle with age or tomes bound in leather that smelled of dust and grave-mold. Yet, despite all his wisdom, he could make little of it. He just mumbled about moths and some owl, thorns, and wisdom, and just wondered how to put together some words from the ancient dwarven language.

  At last, after a journey to Markarth and long hours spent with his old friend, the famed wizard Calcelmo, they managed together to piece out a translation—more or less correct, as Leif admitted with a sigh. And what did their great effort yield? A string of riddles that left us gaping like fools:

  "Always choose the thorny path... for the straight and easy one leads only to despair and death. Where light never reaches, the wise may yet find enlightenment... and the skilled one may call forth from the outer spheres the Animals: a Bear to guard him from the ancient sentries, a Moth to light the forgotten path, and an Owl that may perchance grant a fragment of its great wisdom. But beware, you who pass the final threshold—for there the Beautiful Animals will forsake you, and you shall stand before the Last Guardian alone."

  I stared at my daddy and said, "Really? That's it? All this sleepless mumbling over moldy books for a recipe of—what? Bear, moth, and owl stew? What in Oblivion am I supposed to do with a moth? Catch it in a jar and wave it about like a lantern? And the owl—ah, don't make me laugh! A bird that shits where it pleases, that's all the wisdom you'll get from it. As for the bear, well... I've met one or two of those stinkers in the wild, and believe me, their only philosophy is tearing your guts out and rolling in the mess afterwards. Such enlightenment! Truly, the ancients must have been drunk when they carved this nonsense..."

  Leif laughed heartily and patted my head as though I were some disgruntled kitten.

  "Like it or not, Elsie, that's the meaning of the ancient text—at least as far as Calcelmo and I have been able to decipher."

  Then he leaned back and added, with that irritating calm of his: "Still, we both believe the object is a marked key, tailored to a particular lock..."

  I narrowed my eyes at him, my tail practically lashing in spirit, and hissed: "Arvel already said it was a key!"

  Leif chuckled, unbothered, and spread his hands.

  "Indeed, he did. And unfortunately, that's all we can muster."

  He fell silent for a moment, watching me simmer, then softened his voice: "Additional and valuable information about this text—and the symbols on the claw—may lie in the library of the College of Winterhold. But..." he sighed, "I am not welcome there. And even if I were, the road is far too perilous and hard for me."

  At once, I tilted my head, ears pricked, and declared: "Then I'll go myself! Tomorrow!"

  But Leif caught my hands gently in his weathered palms.

  "No, my daughter. That library's doors open only to the College's students, and even they cannot access its deeper archives unless they bear the rank of master."

  His sad certainty drained the fire from my protest, and I slumped back in my chair, gnawing at my lower lip. The golden promise buried in the bowels of Bleak Falls Barrow receded once more into shadow, just beyond my reach!

  So I spent the next days trying, in my foolish way, to earn some money by other means. I tagged along with Aela to fulfill a few of the contracts Kodlak had available, and I can say with perfect certainty that they were nothing but wasted time and a mountain of hassle for a pitiful handful of septims.

  We hunted troublesome animals and skinned them until our fingers ached and reeked of blood and root—a task that disgusted me so deeply I thought I'd never be able to purr again—and then dragged heavy packs of stinky hides back to Whiterun like common trappers. Or worse: we looted the killed brigands, taking their pathetic possessions, like rust-bitten swords, and armor so tattered even beggars would sneer at it. Adrienne, ever the clever smith, would grin and hand us a few septims for our trouble, all while joking that her forge was soon to become "the official dump of Skyrim." A lie, of course. She and her husband patched up every bent cuirass and polished every dulled axe, only to sell them back at high prices to other brigands or even to the earls who gave the order to get rid of them!

  And we? We trudged across the endless high plain, bent under the stink of iron and fur, staggering like overburdened pack mules. Oh, glorious Companions indeed!

  I remember with a smile a so-called heroic deed of ours. The contract sounded simple enough—at least when Kodlak muttered it across the mead hall's smoky air: "A bear troubling a village. Go deal with it."

  A single bear, he said. One.

  So off we went, and after wandering for two days through the dense pine forest around Falkreath—because even Aela didn't know exactly where that outlying Bjornby was—we finally reached the poor little hamlet. Suddenly, a settlement of several houses, all surrounded by solid palisades, emerged from the thick fog that crept through the forest like a witch's tattered cloak. Aela was in front, far ahead of me, marching in her proud wolfish stride, bow in hand, while I trotted reluctantly behind with a bundle of elk skins on my back. "Their pelts and antlers are in high demand, and we'll sell them at a good price," she had said when we left Whiterun...

  And then, I heard Aela whistling, and things took a... how should I put it? A distinct turn for the worse! For there, prowling around the chicken coops and banging their shaggy rumps against the wooden doors, were not one, not two, but three enormous, slobbering bears! The villagers had barricaded themselves inside their cottages, peering out from cracks with the eyes of already doomed men.

  "Oh, splendid!" I meowed. "Three bears! Did Kodlak mention three? Or was he drunk again when he gave you this contract?"

  Aela drew an arrow with that maddening calm of hers. "We'll manage."

  "We? Oh no, you'll manage. I'll just—ah—stay here and supervise. Someone needs to make sure they don't eat you, right?"

  I said and readied my crossbow. The Huntress gave me a look sharp enough to split firewood, then loosed an arrow. One of the bears roared and, with murderous intent, charged us with incredible speed. I took very careful aim and sent a bolt flying. This time, the beast staggered, screaming terribly for a few long moments, then collapsed in convulsions. The other two were now coming at us, and I didn't wait for them there. I put my crossbow down, rolled hard, and drew my daggers.

  From then on, the battle became, in short, a chaos of claws, roars, and my very unheroic shrieks. Aela fought like a storm given flesh, loosing arrows and hacking with her axe, while I mostly darted behind fences, poked a bear in the rump when it wasn't looking, and then bolted before it could swat me flat. "This is impossible!" I howled at one point, scrambling onto a chicken coop roof while a bear tried to chew my boots. "They're fat, hairy mountains with teeth! Who hunts mountains?!"

  At last—after much growling from the bears and much louder growling from me—the beasts lay dead, their hulking bodies sprawled across the village square. The doors creaked open, villagers tumbling out, cheering and clapping like we'd slain Alduin himself.

  "Oh, don't thank me," I purred sweetly, batting my eyelashes while Aela stood drenched in sweat and bear blood. "I was only here for moral support."

  And then—of course—the villagers let us skin the brutes. "Their hides would be worth a fortune," Aela said.

  I stared at the mountains of stinking fur. "Skin them? By the Nine, no! I'm not butchering these hairy corpses like some frost troll's maid. Aela, you do it. I'll... guard the chickens."

  Aela muttered dark things in her wolf tongue while she worked, while I perched on a fence and loudly complained about the smell, the flies, and the absolute indignity of the Companions' life. By the time we—mostly me—dragged the hides back to Whiterun, I was convinced more than ever: this "glorious" warrior band was nothing but an expensive, sweaty nightmare. Especially when Kodlak handed us a hundred septims with the air of a king bestowing the rank of duke upon one of his faithful.

  Still... the villagers gave us mead, fried meat, and two warm beds for the night—a great improvement over the previous nights we had spent in the cold forest. And, more importantly, they remembered my name and deed when, much later, I was recruiting men for my own private army.

  Once again, I understood that my dear daddy had been right: I was not cut out for Kodlak's little club of blood and sweat. Still... all that hauling and running did have one good side: my body toughened, my legs carried me farther than before, and I came to know every stone, every stream, and every beast's trail around Whiterun as though they were etched into my mind.

  Moreover, the peasants began to know me as a true, brave, and helpful woman, while the people of Whiterun saw me as one of the Companions—and, more than that, a good friend of Aela, who was indeed much respected in the hold and even beyond its borders. Eorlund Gray-Mane, the smith of Jorrvaskr, forged for me—free of charge—two sturdy daggers that soon became invaluable in my new life as a huntress, and also crafted the much-needed darts, bolts, and throwing knives at very low prices.

  Speaking of bolts... well, my exquisite crossbow proved to be a—how should I put it?—an improper weapon for the kind of fights I was being dragged into. So I tried to learn something about the bow, and Aela gave me valuable lessons, but handling and aiming were dreadfully hard after so many years of training exclusively with the arbalest. I resigned myself to the fact that I would never be an elite archer and instead strove to learn the fighting style of the short blade. Aela was a true master at this, and soon I was able to use Eorlund's daggers to their full worth. And yes, I greatly impressed my friend when she first saw me wielding two blades at the same time: "I must learn this kind of fighting someday," she said thoughtfully.

  I also got used to sleeping in forests or caves, though the cold was always hard to endure. That problem solved itself quickly enough: Aela wasn't bothered at all by my idea to sleep curled together beneath her wide cloak. After a while, she seemed to relish this arrangement as much as I did—something I had long practiced before with Courtney.

  Ah, Courtney! Just as I began to miss her deeply, my beloved friend arrived in Whiterun: gaunt, dirty, and weary, yet with sparkling eyes, and she announced to me, full of joy, that she had discovered Paradise in Skyrim. "The Rift," she said, "it's a land of beauty, full of game and interesting people. But above all, it is warm and the forests... oh, the Rift's forests are truly enchanting!"

  That reminded me of Nocturnal and Riften—lying deep in the Rift—suddenly became extremely interesting for me, so I decided that I must go there as soon as Courtney was rested and refreshed after her long journey.