We left Whiterun through the western gate. The guards in worn leather armor lazily nodded to us without asking unnecessary questions — in this world, travelers with weapons were a common sight, especially when man-eating wolves prowled the area, troubling the farms.
Uthgerd walked ahead, her steps confident and steady, like someone who knew every path in these lands. Her fair hair swayed slightly in the wind, and her leather armor creaked with every movement. I followed her, the dagger in my hand a cold reminder that this wasn't a VR simulation where death was just a respawn. Here, every strike could be the last, every mistake — fatal. I doubted I would respawn if some wolf tore out my throat.
The sun was already sinking toward the horizon, painting the sky in rich shades of orange, pink, and deep violet, as if an artist had smeared paints across a canvas. The air had grown cooler, filled with the freshness of approaching night, mixed with the scent of pine, damp earth, and distant smoke from farmers' hearths. The road wound its way through golden fields scattered with stalks of wheat that rustled in the wind like a quiet whisper. In the distance lay hills patched with forests — the very place Hulda said those man-eating wolves were hiding.
"You're silent, as if this is your first time going on a hunt," Uthgerd threw over her shoulder. Her voice carried a hint of mockery, but beneath it lingered a note of concern she tried to mask with roughness. "Tell me about yourself, Mikael. Where are you from? Not Whiterun, that's for sure. Windhelm? Or Solitude? They say graduates of their Bard's College are the best in Skyrim."
I smirked, matching her pace, feeling my boots sink into the soft roadside grass.
"From far away, Uthgerd. Where I come from, wolves don't bite your ass — they sit in cages to entertain bored onlookers. And you? Uthgerd the Unbroken — sounds like a name from an old saga. Tell me, why 'Unbroken'? Maybe because no one's ever managed to tame you, like a wild steed?"
She snorted, but I noticed the faint blush on her cheeks — whether from the wind or my words, I couldn't say. She turned, giving me a look that lingered on my face longer than it should have.
"Because no one ever really tried. And those who did — got their faces smashed. And they won't tame me. Now shut up and watch your step — the trail's slippery after yesterday's rain. Wouldn't want you to fall and break your neck. Who'd catch the wolves then?"
We delved deeper into Skyrim's forest — thick, ancient, full of secrets and hidden life. The trees stood like sentinels of centuries: tall pines with gnarled trunks covered in green moss and lichen, their crowns interlocking above us into a green vault. Only rare patches of sunlight broke through, dancing on the ground like golden coins. Underfoot crunched fallen needles, cones, and dry branches, creating a chorus of sounds that echoed off the trunks.
The air was heavy with the scent of resin, fresh mushrooms hidden in the shade of ferns, and something wild, primal — the smell of earth torn up by roots, and moisture from streams murmuring somewhere nearby. The forest wasn't just a backdrop: it lived, breathed, concealed dangers in the shadows of dense blackberry bushes with thorny branches, waist-high ferns, and fallen moss-covered trees.
In the distance came the rustle of leaves, bird cries — crows cawing above the treetops, and a far-off howl that could have been the wind… or those very wolves. I felt small in this world, where every rustle might be a threat, every turn of the path — an ambush. The leaves shone bright green, dewdrops glittering like jewels, and the ground beneath was soft, springy, roots jutting out like snakes.
"Stay here," Uthgerd said after we'd walked about an hour and the sun had almost dipped behind the hills, leaving the forest in twilight. "This is already their territory. Let's prepare before it gets completely dark."
I nodded, glancing around. Nearby I spotted a straight young tree trunk, perfect for what I had in mind. Taking my dagger, I began whittling down the broken branch, stripping off bark and twigs until I had a smooth shaft. Then I firmly tied the dagger to the end with a piece of rope Uthgerd had given me. It turned into something like a short spear — not a masterpiece of smithing, but sturdy enough, with a sharp tip capable of piercing hide.
Uthgerd watched with arms crossed, her silhouette in the dusk looking even more imposing.
"And the bow?" she asked. "Take it, you'll need it. I've got arrows."
"Keep it," I said, shaking my head and handing the weapon back. "Don't know how to use one. Tried something like it as a kid, but… not for me. I'm better with this spear — sturdier, more reliable. You shoot, I'll cover in close combat."
She raised a brow in surprise, lips curling in a skeptical smile, eyes widening for a moment.
"You're serious? A man in Skyrim who doesn't shoot a bow? You're either from another world, or… one of those who grew up in the city, among books and quills. Now I'm even more sure you're from Solitude. They say some there have never even seen a wolf. Fine, keep your 'spear.' But if the wolves get close, don't play the hero — I'll cover you with my sword. And don't you dare act like a hero, golden-hair, or I'll kill you myself."
Her words carried a note of care disguised as harshness. She gave me a light shove on the shoulder — brief but warm, as if testing whether I stood firm on my feet.
We moved on and soon came upon a small farm — a modest wooden cottage with a thatched roof, surrounded by a crooked palisade where a few scrawny cows and sheep grazed. Two farmers, husband and wife, were repairing the fence: the man, a stocky Nord with graying hair and calloused hands, in a worn shirt splattered with mud, hammered a post into the ground, while the woman, her tired face lined with wrinkles and apron stained with earth and hay, handed him tools.
They lifted their heads at the sound of our steps, hope and suspicion flashing in their eyes.
"Good evening, travelers," the man said, straightening and wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve. "Hope you're here for the wolves? Those beasts took our last goat yesterday. A herd of five left — and all cower by the house, too scared to graze. If you don't kill them, we'll be ruined. Third farm in the area's been hit — neighbors say the pack's leader is massive, with a white muzzle like a ghost's."
Uthgerd nodded, her face turning serious."I see. We'll handle it. Where were they last seen? How many? And what else have they done?"
The woman sighed, leaning on the fence, her hands trembling slightly from exhaustion.
"Last we saw them was near the stream, over there behind the hill, where the undergrowth is thick. They come at dawn, sometimes at dusk, when shadows are long. The leader — yes, white-muzzled, huge as a calf, eyes glowing in the dark. Ate our neighbor a week ago — poor man went out to check his livestock, and in the morning we found only scraps of clothing. These wolves aren't ordinary, they're smart. They avoid traps, strike in packs. If you see them, waste no arrows — kill the leader first, or the rest will scatter and come back later."
"And you tried yourselves?" I asked, trying to sound confident, though their words twisted my insides. "Traps, poisons?"
The man snorted, spitting on the ground."Tried. Traps — they go around. Poisons — don't work, as if they can smell it. We're simple farmers, not warriors. The Jarl promised a reward for the wolves, but so far just words. If you kill even half, the whole hold will thank you. Here, take bread for the road — fresh, my wife baked it. And be careful. The gods be with you."
"Thanks," I said, accepting the bread with a nod. "If we see the leader, we'll pass on regards from you."
The farmer smirked crookedly."Better pass him an arrow in the eye. Good luck, you two. If you make it back — stop by, I'll treat you to mead."
The woman added:"We'll pray to Talos that the night is quiet. These wolves… they're like a curse."
We headed toward the stream, tension mounting with every step. The sun had completely set behind the hills, the forest sank into twilight, tree shadows merging into solid black. The air grew thick, cold, and mist slowly crept from the stream.
Something rustled in the bushes, and then came a low growl that echoed through the forest. Honestly, I didn't expect we'd stumble upon them so quickly — but the beasts seemed to have grown brazen, used to impunity.
From the shadows burst wolves: a full dozen, lean yet muscular, their yellow eyes blazing, jaws bared, saliva dripping from their fangs. The leader with the white muzzle and scars on his side stood at the front — truly massive, like a calf. His fur bristled, his growl vibrating through the air, sending shivers down my spine.
"Stay behind me!" Uthgerd shouted, instantly drawing her bow and loosing an arrow — it struck the nearest wolf's shoulder. The beast whined but didn't fall.
My heart pounded like a drum, fear squeezing my stomach in icy grips — this was my first real fight, not in VR where, despite realism, you could always quit and restart. Here everything was real: the stench of fur mixed with blood, cold sweat on my palms, trembling knees. "This isn't a game," flashed through my mind. "One bite — and that's it. But I can't stand here. I have to fight!"
A wolf lunged at me, jaws open, fangs gleaming like daggers. Instinctively I thrust the spear forward — the blade sank into its side with a crunch, hot blood spraying over my hands. The wolf snarled, managing to snap at my leg, tearing cloth and skin. Agony seared like a red-hot iron, my leg buckled, the world darkened from shock. "No, not yet!" I thought, yanking the spear free and stabbing again at its throat. The beast gurgled and collapsed, thrashing in its death throes.
Another wolf charged from the side — I dodged just in time, spear plunging into its shoulder. It writhed, claws scraping the ground. Uthgerd loosed arrows with deadly accuracy, shafts whistling through the air — one wolf dropped with an arrow in its eye, another limped, whining. Then she drew her greatsword, moving to cover me, her armor giving her advantage where my ornate tunic offered none.
I fought like in a trance: fear mixed with fury, adrenaline flooding my veins. Each strike strained my muscles, arms burning with effort. I killed another — the spear pierced its chest, the beast toppling over. But my leg throbbed with pain, blood soaking my boot, the world spinning from loss and fatigue.
The leader pounced at Uthgerd — she dodged, but his claws raked her shoulder, her pauldron barely absorbing the blow. I lunged, driving my spear into his flank — he howled, twisting toward me, but Uthgerd finished him with a thrust to the throat.
The pack faltered. We cut down two more, the last two limping away, whining like beaten pups.
Finally, it was over. Wolves lay dead, the forest silent, only our ragged breaths breaking the stillness. I dropped to my knees, nausea rising from the pain and the sight of my own blood.
"You did well, Mikael," Uthgerd said, coming closer, her voice trembling slightly with fatigue and relief. "You held on like a true Nord. Looks like your leg took a hit… sit, let me see."
I sat down, wincing, leaning on the spear. She tore the cloth of my trouser, examining the wound — a deep bite, ragged edges, bleeding, wolf fur stuck in it. Her face darkened, but she acted quickly.
"I'll help," she whispered, placing her hands on the wound. Golden light flared from her palms — healing magic, warm as sunlight, seeping into my skin, closing the edges, stopping the blood. The pain dulled, leaving only a lingering ache.
Her fingers lingered on my leg, brushing skin softly, almost tenderly — a warmth that sent shivers up my spine. I smiled through the pain.
"Magic? Didn't expect that from you, a real warrior. Where'd you learn that? It… saved my life."
She blushed, looking away, her cheeks pink again."My father taught me, when I was little. He was… an odd Nord, knew a few tricks. This is the only spell I remember. Nothing special, just useful for fresh wounds. Don't ask more — I don't like talking about it."
"Alright, I won't," I said, then added with a grin: "But your hands… they're magical even without spells. Warm. Strong. With a healer like you, I'd hunt every day."
She frowned, but didn't pull away."Shut up, Mikael! That's not funny. But… glad I helped. Get up, let's see if you can stand. Bone doesn't look hit, but still…"
We cut off the wolves' heads as proof of victory — the white-muzzled leader and seven others, their eyes already glazed over in death. Then Uthgerd showed me how to skin them, giving a proper lesson:
"Slice here, at the belly, with a sharp dagger, then pull carefully, separating from the meat. Don't tear it — lowers the price at market. See? The hide's tough, with underfur, perfect for a good cloak. Hold the blade at an angle, trim off the fat — not needed."
I mimicked her, arms covered to the elbows in blood, the metallic stench hanging heavy, mixed with musk. The work was slow — the hides thick and elastic, the dagger sometimes slipping, threatening to cut my fingers if I wasn't careful. Uthgerd corrected my motions, her hands brushing mine — perhaps by accident, perhaps not.
"Not so rough," she said. "Slower, like you're stroking… uh, the hide."
"Like stroking?" I teased. "You know, your hands on mine… inspiring."
She flushed, nudging me with her elbow."Idiot! Focus, or you'll be skinning alone. But… you're learning fast. For a beginner."
Night fell completely, stars twinkling through the treetops, the forest alive with nocturnal sounds — owls hooting, small creatures rustling. We decided to camp near the stream, in a small hollow where the ground was softer.
We built a fire from dry branches — the flames crackled, driving away the dark and chill, casting dancing shadows on the trees. For bedding, we piled ferns, grass, and moss into an improvised mattress, soft but damp with evening dew, smelling of earth and pine. Wolf meat sizzled on a spit, fat dripping into the fire, filling the air with the scent of game laced with smoke.
"Tasty?" I asked, handing Uthgerd a piece on a stick as we sat by the fire.
"Not bad," she muttered, but took it, her fingers brushing mine, lingering a moment. "You're strange, Mikael. You fight like a novice, but don't give up. And your jokes… they're stupid, annoying."
"Stupid?" I smirked, edging closer, supposedly to the fire. "And if I said your eyes are brighter than this flame? Or that with a warrior like you, I'd hunt dragons? You may be unbroken, but… maybe I'll try?"
She feigned anger, but didn't move away."Shut up! I'm not a target for your jokes. I'll hit you if you don't stop. Don't anger me. Better lie down, we've got to claim the reward tomorrow. Stay close. Autumn nights are cold, and you… you're warm like a bear."
Her shoulder brushed mine, tension hanging in the air — a mix of flirtation and awkwardness. She tried to reply, but it came out clumsy:"If you mention my eyes again, I'll hit you."
After a pause, she spoke again, softer:"But… your hair glows like gold in the fire. Beautiful."
I laughed."See? You can compliment. And seriously — thanks for coming with me. Without you, I wouldn't have managed."
She nodded, gazing into the fire."You're welcome. I… enjoy the company. Haven't hunted with someone… like this in a while. Lie down, we'll head back to the city tomorrow."
We lay down on the bedding, our bodies close. The touches were accidental but frequent: her hand adjusting my cloak on my shoulder, her leg brushing mine. Despite the autumn chill, the night was hot — from the fire, and not only from the fire.