It was a rare clear day.
Simon sat on a Wolf's back, gazing at the sky, bathed in sunlight.
After his spirit recovered, he took the time to update the entries in his quest log.
Quest: Escape from Death
Quest One (Completed): Escape the Wolf's jaws.
Quest Two (Completed): Escape the Troll's mouth.
A new entry was opened.
Quest: Healthy Growth
Description: My mother's great sacrifice ensured her children's survival. I should live well. The Wolf Pack respects me, which might be a breakthrough.
Quest One (Incomplete): Attempt to hunt.
Simon withdrew the panel and looked down at his right palm.
There was a small, blooming epiphyllum there.
The epiphyllum symbolized Lu Yuan Bodhisattva's Pure Land, containing a three-dimensional space that was still unstable. The time inside was aligning with the time flow of the elder scrolls world he was in. Once a stable spatiotemporal structure was formed, it would function. Currently, it could only store one object, and this object would not change before time began to flow, not even internal energy exchange.
Now, in the Pure Land in his palm, there was a tear.
Simon could see it, feel it. It seemed to roll in his palm, even giving him a cool touch, yet the tear remained stored, unchanged.
Simon recalled that night.
In his memory, this was his fifth life: once on Earth, once in Hollow Knight, twice reincarnated in the scroll of taiwu world, and now in the elder scrolls. Of these many experiences, this one was the most unforgettable.
How could it not be unforgettable?
Due to the language barrier, Simon didn't even know his mother's name.
He remembered the pronunciation of every word his mother spoke, constantly replaying them for fear of forgetting.
Simon was certain that it was a phonetic script similar to English. At this moment, he had an unusual craving for language knowledge.
However, being in the wilderness, and such a harsh, cold environment, just surviving was a problem.
The Wolf Pack consisted of five Icefield Wolves, three males and two females. There was no Alpha Wolf for now. They hunted casually, and there was no specific order for eating.
Their activity range was limited to the Tundra and the surrounding forest.
Simon used the sunrise and sunset as directional standards. The north and east of the Wolf Pack's territory were the Sea of Ghosts. There might be Walrus colonies along the coast. To the southwest were vast, rugged mountains, often shrouded in mist above the mid-slopes, making them unclear. At the foothills, there were passes that might lead to the other side of the mountains.
To the northwest, there were some ancient stone architectural ruins. When the Wolf Pack gazed from a distance, Simon also noticed signs of human activity around the ruins.
Those who lived long-term in the wilderness of Skyrim were not good people. They could be bandits, wandering Mages, or rebellious forces, all sorts of strange individuals, but mostly Heretics who committed murder and evil deeds.
Simon currently had no intention of contacting humans. Even though returning to civilized society would be very beneficial for him, in this world, valuable people were respected, while valueless people had to find ways to make themselves valuable. The movement of people in society was also the circulation of value.
And strength was often the most primitive and direct value.
The Wolf Pack's wanderings were very regular, sweeping through their territory like a sieve again and again. However, harsh cold was harsh cold; food shortage was an urgent matter. A whole day's work might only yield a scrawny wild rabbit, or a fox with more bones and fur than flesh.
Simon gently flicked his newly grown fingernails.
They were translucent, pale yellow, hard, and well-formed.
Human nails couldn't compare to beast claws, but essentially, they were the same thing. Simon had nothing yet; his mother's longsword was still left in the forest. He hadn't gone back for it because he couldn't use or carry it. The Pure Land in his palm could only store one item—and it couldn't be too large.
Simon was not a person who indulged in sentimentality. For him, a single tear was enough to commemorate his mother. His thoughts about the longsword were purely practical.
Now that he had sharp nails, Simon's mind was entirely focused on choosing prey.
The beast transformation disease gave him a relatively robust physique, roughly that of a teenager. For an infant, this was naturally remarkable, but it was still far from enough to hunt large animals.
Seeing the Wolf Pack grow thinner day by day, Simon decided to lead them north to the coastline.
He tugged at the fur on the head of the Wolf he was riding. The Wolf turned its head, looking innocent, as if it were a scolded clumsy dog. However, Simon knew these Wolves were smart enough. He pointed his right hand north, then patted the Wolf's head with his left.
With a low howl, the male Wolf Simon was riding first trotted north. The Wolf Pack looked at the white-haired infant and quietly followed his steps.
A long trail was left on the varying depths of ice and snow in the Tundra.
Heading north, the daytime sea breeze was particularly strong, bringing a salty, fishy airflow that rustled Simon's straw-like white hair. He sniffed carefully; the wind also carried the scent of animal droppings. There was indeed prey there.
After running for nearly two hours, they reached the edge of the Tundra, where the glimmer of the sea surface was visible. It was quite clear today, so the sea was also very bright, appearing as a hazy mass of chaos covered with a layer of fragmented golden light.
To reach the coast, they needed to pass through rolling sea cliffs, glacial valleys, and broken ice sheets, descending all the way.
Simon urged the male Wolf to a cliff edge and overlooked the panorama. To the northwest was an isolated island in the sea, like a protruding wedge, generally an inverted cone. On its top was a massive stone building. The island was connected to the land by a dilapidated stone bridge, looking like a rope full of wormholes. A timid person walking on it might be scared and fall.
Simon remembered that place.
It was very likely the Mage College of Winterhold.
Simon added a map to his quest log, drawing the Tundra and forest. Now he added the coast and marked this peculiar building on the isolated island—[Note: Mage College?]
A faint snoring sound came from the bottom of the cliff. Simon jumped off the Wolf's back and lay on the edge, looking down.
A small white bear was sleeping on the ground about a hundred feet below.
Was the mother bear not there?
Simon looked around but found no trace of the mother bear, deciding that this cub would be the prey.
Its meat would weigh about a hundred pounds, a feast.
Simon jumped back onto the Wolf's back, guiding the Wolf Pack to circle down the cliff from the side.
The cub slept soundly until it was bitten in the throat by a male Wolf. Only then did it awaken, beginning to struggle weakly until it suffocated.
The Wolf Pack intended to start eating, but Simon directed them to take their kill back to the Tundra to enjoy.
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