Two Tigers from Hammerfell

[Akasha]

Two shadows slid effortlessly down the loose mountain slopes from Knifepoint Ridge into Falkreath Hold. The sky above was full of small, patchy clouds in rows like slaughterfish scales, and ahead lay a sprawling, marshy forest of black pines full of dank and unfamiliar smells.

Akasha ja Khanai had always heard that Skyrim was a cold place, but here in its southernmost reaches what she noticed most of all was the damp. The earth beneath her feet went from slick stone covered in pine needles to soft peat and finally to mud that squelched under her boots with every step. Morning in Falkreath would wreath the forest in cold, wet mists, but now it was afternoon, with the sun high in the sky, and Akasha felt herself sweltering in her steel cuirass, thickly padded across her shoulders with wolfskin to dampen the noise. She was not used to wearing it so long. But she'd never admit that to her older sister, who moved tirelessly ahead of her on long, graceful legs as if driven by the winds of Khenarthi herself.

"These trees blot out the entire sky," she complained. "How does one find one's direction in this place?"

[Ashira]

"Nature is as nature does."

Spoken quietly, the words were meant less as a call for quiet as they were for a hurried explanation.

Ashira sa Khanai paused for only a moment, sensing as her younger sister did the same, and scenting the air, the Khajiit started forward once more at a now cautious pace. An arrow was brought from the quiver at her back, and she let her body hunch down and forward ever-so-slightly. It was instinct, and she had come to trust her instincts. In her left hand, the bow that her uncle had gifted to her was held in a loose yet sure grip; ready for action yet in no way tiring to her arm and hand. It was an expectant grip, and as she notched the arrow, Ashira continued down the slope, feeling the ground change as she kept onward. Unlike her sister, she was clad in lighter leathers, with only a few steel trappings dotting her wardrobe. For their journey, it had seemed the prudent thing, and now moreso than ever she was thankful for the ease with which her clothing allowed her to move.

"My books tell me that not all of Skyrim is as such," she went on, her silky voice hushed, yellow eyes set straight ahead.

There.

A flash of dusty brown pelt in the distance, and the sound of a snapping twig was enough to tell her where they needed to go. Further down the two Khajiit moved, quietly intent on their hunted prize. If Ashira's arrow sang true, they would eat well this day, and for many other days to follow.

A small clearing, and the elk slowly stepped into the rays of light that filtered through the trees, spilling onto the ground. It tested the air, found nothing alarming, and lowered its' head to take a clump of grass between its' teeth.

Ashira smiled as she stopped, and silently drew the bow. The fletching tickled her cheek; it always did. It was like a telltale sign of things to come. Sighting along the length of the arrow, her eye focused first on the tip, then her prey. She held only a moment longer before loosing the bolt. It flew straight and true, the steel tip almost singing in the air as it passed by tree and shrub alike. It traveled along its' intended path almost as if in slow motion. And then, the arrow thudded into the neck of the elk with sudden finality. The beast jerked up for a split second before trying to run, and yet with its' lifeblood spilling out, it merely succeeded in stumbling for but a few steps before crashing down to the forest floor.

[Akasha]

Akasha held her breath as her older sister drew her bowstring and, as always, flinched when the arrow hissed away toward its target. Ashira had attempted to teach her the bow before, but the younger Khajiit had never had the patience for sighting in a target more than about twenty yards away. It lacked the feral immediacy of a sword and shield, the bone-jarring impacts of steel on steel, the heat and the smell of your enemy slavering inches from your face. But you couldn't feed yourself with a sword without getting a contract first, and with many miles of hard climbing behind her and a gnawing pit growing in her stomach, she'd never admired her sister's skill more.

"Azurah's fangs, nice shot!" she beamed. "We won't even have to trail it."

Forgetting her weariness, the charcoal-furred Khajiit bounded down the slope toward the gasping animal, unaware that something else was moving through the forest as well.

[Ashira]

A ghostly grin pulled at Ashira's lips, and she watched as Akasha passed by her on her way downward. Moving slowly, she began to follow. Yes, they would eat well this day. Such a prize certainly meant that their luck was holding, though for how long she couldn't guess. Not quite so quick to invoke the names of the gods as her sister, Ashira simply settled for a general sense of thankfulness that her arrow had flown straight and true, attributing it to her own training and the guidance she'd received from her teachers.

Replacing her bow in its' holder along her back, the Khajiit continued on. She opened her mouth to speak out, but just as quickly clamped it shut once more as a sound caught her attention. It was off to the side, and coming closer. One ear switched back as she turned her head in the direction of the sound.

And then she heard the unmistakable whurrfle that held the undertones of a distinctly large creature.

A creature that was decidedly deadly.

And even though the animal had not yet come into sight, Ashira was backing away hastily, turning her head toward her sister.

"Akasha!!"

[Akasha]

Akasha was nearly halfway to the fallen elk when she heard her sister's voice, and also something huge thundering through the forest before her. She dropped to a crouch and scrambled between the branches of two closely growing pines just as an enormous, shaggy bear burst onto the path, its pelt mottled gray and brown and covered in scars, close enough that she could have reached out and touched it. But the beast ignored the hiding Khajiit and loped on toward the dying elk. Once there, it slapped its massive paw onto the wounded beast's neck with a sickening crunch of bone, and Ashira's severed arrow went spinning off into the wilderness.

Akasha watched, frozen, as the bear prodded the kill with a snuffling wet nose, then reared up on its hind legs, easily nine feet high, and looked up and down the path for any sign of pursuit. Satisfied, it lifted the elk's broken neck in its jaws, as if it weighed no more than a skeever, and began dragging it away.

Akasha crept out of her hiding place, slack-jawed, and looked back up the path, where her sister was finally catching up. "Well, come on, then!" Akasha said. "It's getting away!"

[Ashira]

This one thinks you are touched in the head.

It was on the tip of her tongue, but passed no further than her teeth. Rather, she gave her sister an incredulous look but trailed after her regardless.

"This is a bad idea," she finally decided on.

Still though, the bow was once more in hand, and an arrow soon followed suit. Ashira knew that a single arrow would never fell such a beast, but it was better than nothing, no doubt.

"And how do you propose we defeat a bear," she hissed out in question cautious and ever-mindful that her voice not carry too far.

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

"With a bear trap."

The owner of the voice sounded aristocratic and learned, but when the two Khajit turned to see the source they would no-doubt be fully underwhelmed. A dwarf of a man sat precariously on the back of a rather-small donkey that was overburdened with sacks and rucks and haphazard bric-a-brac. The donkey further insulted the timely majesty of good advice with a skreeching HAAAAW.

Wulthgar expected his simple solution to be a welcome epiphany. When it appeared less than such, he glanced off in the direction of the bear, and away from the huntresses.

"Obviously..." he mumbled.

[Akasha]

Akasha whirled about and stared uncomprehendingly at the Nord who'd intruded on their hunt. There were many questions she could have asked - who he was, where he'd come from, whether he meant them harm, how he'd appeared on the path just moments after a bear had nearly run her down. But with her blood still high and her instincts hovering precariously somewhere among fight, flight, and pursuit, all she managed was a few moments of soundless gawping at the man (who, mounted though he was, still sat barely eye-level with her). When she finally found her tongue, the results were disappointing.

"What?"

[Ashira]

Ashira blinked in surprise, just as dumbstruck as her sister at the appearance of the stranger. Her body twisted about so that she could send one last look to the bear as it ambled further away, the elk still held firmly in its' powerful jaws. With an air of disappointment mixed with annoyance, she looked to the man and his donkey.

The tip of her arrow, having been notched to bowstring, lowered; but only slightly. Strangers were not always harmless travelers, after all.

Yellow eyes narrowed, and she moved to stand beside Akasha, poised to draw at the slightest inkling of danger.

"Speak your business, stranger."

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

"Business, of course. Of the pecuniary sort, you will not be disappointed, if you are credits to your people which you must be. Further, you should know you have the distinct honour and privilege of making none other than Wulthgar Milk-Drinker's acquaintance."

A confident smile as he rubbed his hands together. When it appeared that the mere mention of his own name bought him no favors, his smile faded somewhat. Wulthgar made the best of dismounting his steed, which was as graceless as possible whilst still allowing the diminuitive Nord to keep his feet. Wobbling slightly as he touched terra firma, Wulthgar drew loose one of the bindings that carried a particularly large rucksack, which tumbled to the ground.

"In addition to being renowned throughout Tamriel for bardic arts and wordsmithing..."

Still nothing. Not a flicker of recollection. Damn. The dwarf frowned.

"...I also bear practical sundries when my other skills are not in demand. You have chosen well of your holds to hunt within, as Falkreath game is both plentiful and in majestic quality."

He loosed the rucksack open, and began to rifle through the contents, his head disappearing from view within burlap as he did so.

"I happen to keep a reasonably modest assortment of accoutrements that a huntsman...huntsmaiden, might fancy."

Finding what he needed, Wulthgar at last emerged from the burlap holding a cumbersome contraption made of iron.

"Including...bear traps."

[Akasha]

Akasha followed her sister's lead and laid a paw on the hilt of her curved sword, just in case the miniature man planned to pull something more nefarious than sporting goods out of his rucksack. She couldn't yet decide whether Wulthgar's small frame contained an ounce of guile, or perhaps many tons of it.

"This one admires your resourcefulness," she said cautiously, "but what are we supposed to do with that? Throw it at him?"

She nodded toward the still-swaying branches where the bear had disappeared from sight. "We just want our elk back."

[Ashira]

With a rather grumped hrmph, Ashira remained ever-vigilante should the half-man go down the path of treachery. It wasn't unheard of, and it was also something that she had read about many times over in her multitude of books back home. Uncle S'thay had always told her that Skyrim was a wonderful place, yet fraught with danger - from the wildlife and natives alike. Her nostrils flared, a sign that she was testing the air and this little newcomer.

"I have read about bear traps," she began slowly, her voice smooth and level.

The Khajiit was mindful to reign in her own natural speaking habits.

"What good will it do us now."

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

Alas, the hook was not set and the bait nearly spat out.

"Perhaps...the bear has a refined taste, and would pair honey with his pilfered kill to offset it's gamey character."

No. No sale. Wulthgar shrugged.

"No, perhaps not. However..."

Returning to his pack, the Nord replaced the bear trap and returned with a padded roll of cloth bound by leather strips, which he lay on the ground to unfasten the twinings. As he unrolled the cloth, it became apparent that it was a rolled kit full of many pouches of what appeared to be flasks and vials.

"...if you insist on a more proactive retrieval of your stolen bounty, I hope you are not so stupid as to do so on equitable terms. You have arrows and a sword in between you and a most-gruesome demise. It would be a pity to introduce you to Falkreath's second-most popular attraction."

Wulthgar's face turned grim.

"The graveyard."

Shaking his head, he continued.

"No, that won't do. You two are both...beautiful...young...ladies..."

Not that he'd know what passed for that sort of thing among Khajit.

"...I'm sure, at least. And you shan't want to die, and for something as ignoble as lunch. Therefore, I present to you a counter-offer."

Carefully, Wulthgar retrieved a dark green vial from its assigned pocket, and rose to his feet, holding the small receptacle between himself and his two potential customers. He carefully removed the cork, and demonstrated his earnestness by passing the rim of the vial beneath his nose.

"You will detect a distinct note of juniper within this elixir. I implore you for the sake of your families to smell only and not sip."

[Akasha]

Akasha's nose could read the juniper from where she stood, as well as something else faintly acidic underneath. She had no desire to get closer.

"At this point, Khajiit may as well just buy lunch," she groused, laying her ears back. "Poison simply ruins good meat. And who says we couldn't take the bear on our own? My sister and I, we are the finest warriors in our village."

Which was more or less true, considering most of their kin were more comfortable with a hoe than with a weapon of any kind, and the only proper warrior among them had died just weeks ago after suffering brutal torture at the hands of the Thalmor. But damned to Oblivion if she would let this dwarf make a mockery of them.

[Ashira]

Ashira gave a quick sideways glance to Akasha, letting out a short breath from between pointed teeth.

She regarded the Nord once more, allowing her body to further relax a small bit. Her bow remained at the ready however, as her next words mirrored her sister's.

"Why should we buy your poison when we can simply purchase a meal instead?"

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

"Crawl back to town, with your tails betwixt your legs, and pay an innskeep for what you can do yourself?!"

Wulthgar played it up, looking well and truly taken aback, capping the flask indignantly.

"Well, you could, I'm sure. But think of what would be said of it!"

The dwarf looked back to Akasha, addressing her point.

"And unless you plan on eating the bear, what of it? I'm sure your sister's aim is as true as you say. In which case, you shouldn't tarry. The more we banter, the more the bear simply gorges itself on what is rightly yours. All I simply offer is the means of rectifying an unfortunate situation."

[Akasha]

Akasha opened her mouth to protest, but the dwarf had chosen his target well - hit her right in the pride. And any rhetorical leverage she had left vanished when her stomach began to growl like a sabercat at the thought of all that fresh venison disappearing down a mangy bear's gullet.

Guile, she thought. Think, then speak. Rahjin keep my wits sharp.

"A sample, then?" she asked. "Enough for one arrow, to prove that it works? You can hang around and sell us the whole bottle afterwards."

[Ashira]

Angling her head, Ashira fixed him with a pointed stare to punctuate Akasha's words. After all, it only seemed a fitting proposal.

"It is a sensible arrangement," she agreed, nodding.

She flexed the fingers of her hand, the leather of her fingerless gloves creaking against the ebony bow she held, and the Khajiit pulled in a long breath through her nose. There really wasn't all that much more to say that wasn't an echo of her sister's own words.

"..and a fair one, I would wager."

Still though, she felt it only right to make some sort of offer of her own.

"If your potion does indeed work, you may have a measure of elk for your own self."

[Wulthgar Milk-Drinker]

In a gesture of kind deference, Wulthgar smiled.

"While I am loathe to decline a fine meal under nearly any circumstance, I find that septims are both more portable than elk and also spend more agreeably. Fifty septims, precisely. And not one good Tiber shy of the mark, I'm afraid."

He would be surprised and a little wary if they didn't try and talk him down, so this was part of the song and dance.

"It is quality essence, of the most mortal sort. Oh, not by my own alchemical prowess, By The Eight, I'd be wretched if I dared try. But I have a writ of the recipe on my person, penned by the hand of a Hagraven - in human blood - so they say."

The dwarf shook his head with a most grim expression.

"Dreadful stuff. And I'm afraid not the sort that sells in half measure. Would do no good to sell by the dropper-full. Would take a horde of accountants whipped by Sheogorath's flails to keep up with that tedium."

Wulthgar could tell that the Khajit were cautious over this, and rightfully so.

"My offer, ladies, is fifty septims. If I am a charlatan, then you will find me where I stand - here. Very much out of range of hungry and murderous bears, yet blessed without violent temperament and cursed with legs much shorter than your own. I freely admit my cowardice and yet you will find that I am a poor runner. Therefore I shall not retreat. Neither from you nor from my asking price."

[Akasha]

A look of desperation crossed Akasha's face before she had the presence of mind to tamp it down. Fifty septims was all they had between them, enough, they'd hoped, for a night's stay in Falkreath and a few meals while they scouted for work. It would be mad to spend even half that on poison - and yet, even as she thought that, she couldn't help but wonder how many bandit bounties she could claim with poison on her blade. Skyrim was absolutely lousy with bandits, or so she'd heard.

"For that price, it should poison your enemies and heal your friends," she said haughtily. "This one would not pay a septim over twenty."

Certainly not, since all she had in her coinpurse was sixteen, plus a pawful of Hammerfell coppers that were probably worthless here.