It shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did, but hunting was an activity that was inherently relaxing for me. It was the rare occasion that I didn’t return with a collection of rabbits or a deer or wild goat hung over my shoulders, but whether I was successful or not it didn’t matter and I always felt relaxed when I returned.

  Unlike what was typical for most Imperial, especially Colovian Noblemen there was no team of servants or soldiers by my side, and nor was I mounted atop Trygve with a lance or spear at the ready for the quarry to be flushed out of hiding. Despite my title as Knight-Commander and the heavy signet ring safely tucked away in a pocket I hunted alone, dressed in a rough spun tunic and pants, my minotaur leather cloak and hood and without a single piece of my armour. It was liberating, especially after everything that had occurred over the previous months to simply pick a direction and wander aimlessly until I decided to seek out some local game and the West Weald was certainly what I would call the perfect place to hunt.

  It had been years since I had hunted in a region that didn’t feel utterly inimical to human life. Vvardenfell was harsh, unforgiving and deadly between the beasts of the wilds, the corpus infected monsters that occasionally appeared and the fact that between the semi-random ash storms most of the island could only support various fungus and mushrooms in lieu of trees. The West Weald brought back memories of being a child in Eastern Hammerfell of simpler times and it was filled with a scenic beauty that allowed my stress to flow away.

  Not that it wasn’t dangerous and I remained on my guard just as I had during my Bandit hunt in Anvil County the months before. This time at least there was an almost complete absence of human life within the entire area, and I was no longer responsible for hunting those that were. Only the occasional lion or other large predator from beyond the Elsweyr border a week’s journey to the south, the suggestion of trolls or ogres being local to the region, or the traces of goblins two days’ travel to the north east revealed the threats, but I knew better than to let my guard down.

  Breathing carefully and taking care not to look directly at my latest prey I pulled back on my bow and felt the silent groan of my arms from the motion. Viconia had noted that I hadn’t been using my bow as much for the past weeks, and it was somewhat of a surprise to realise just how much favouring the sword was affecting me. The previous times I had gone hunting had left my arms and shoulders aching even with my vampiric nature, but it was a pleasant ache in comparison to the training that Alexi and Viconia were putting me through.

  My vampirism did assist in hunting and there was no denying the fact. The grass in front of me was almost thigh deep and hunting the rabbits that lived within it would have been impossible without the curse. Instead their every sound reached my ears and I could hunt them by their heartbeats alone. Even the smell of fresh blood allowed me to find them once my arrow had struck true and this time was no exception, the soft crack of the bowstring slapping the leather bracer on my arm only marginally louder than the hiss and thud of the arrow striking the rabbit twenty metres away.

  The enhanced senses of the vampire allowed me to ensure that everything within a kilometre or more didn’t go unnoticed and this fact as well also allowed me to relax. For the most part at least. I was arguably the most dangerous being within the region but this was not my home as such. I was a visitor, a guest even and I could taste the true owners on the wind.

  Of the creatures of the wilds, there were uncountable dozens of species and monsters that contended for the title of deadliest. Bears, lions and other large predatory cats were obvious contenders, and especially in Cyrodiil trolls and ogres were infamous in their strength and taste for flesh. Goblins were always considered to be more of a nuisance than a true threat despite the fact that in numbers they could easily overwhelm small villages and even the more legendary creatures such as land dreugh and minotaurs were the talk of taverns and inns throughout Tamriel. But there was one species that most overlooked but only the truly foolish ignored.

  Even towns and villages much closer to ‘civilisation’ than the Priory of the Nine could be threatened by wolves and it seemed the further you travelled the larger and more dangerous they became. They were as intelligent as they were cunning, capable of hunting in packs and taking down creatures much larger than themselves by numbers and tactics, or by simply having the patience and endurance to simply follow their prey until they collapsed from exhaustion. I knew from personal experience from my childhood that villages and towns were not immune to losing people to wolf packs and even with my vampirism I kept an eye and ear out for the local pack.

  There was a dozen or more that had claimed this region and with my vampirism I knew several of them by smell. Each of their pack, from the younger pups to the oldest females were creatures to be wary of but they were as wary of me as I was of them. More than once they had approached me during my hunting trips over the previous weeks, and on one occasion had come almost within bow range in their curiosity. As I had during my childhood I had purposefully left one or two of my kills for them and each time I could almost hear my father teaching me that the land didn’t belong to man and we needed to be respectful.

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  The pack was led by a sizable specimen that I had only caught glimpses of; an alpha with bone grey fur and streaks of black that was easily my equal in weight. I knew without a doubt that they were wary of me much more than they would be had I been fully human, and there were several times where I had listened to them move away as soon as they caught my scent on the air. It was disconcerting though having acute senses in such a way, as I also knew that had I been human there would have been numerous occasions that I wouldn’t have known that they were nearby at all.

  As I moved over and retrieved my fourth rabbit for the day I could hear them moving closer, and strangely enough I could smell the pack on the breeze. Normally they were careful in revealing their presence and ensuring that they were upwind at all times, but as I attached the rabbit to my belt I realised that they were also moving differently to normal. The previous times I had encountered them they had remained hidden, moving carefully or even stalking me but this time they were moving almost casually. The pines were far too thick to see but I could hear and smell them, picking them out one by one and realising that they were moving in a rough semicircle and coming directly towards me.

  It was curious, especially how I could tell they weren’t hunting me or anything else. Their pace was neither slow and controlled, or fast and precise but instead almost relaxed. There were also other smells beyond the pack; hints of leather, steel and civilisation that created the unmistakable aroma of mankind.

  Within my position in one of the many clearings within the pine forests I simply waited, hearing the jingling of saddlebags and the gentle clopping of hooves on pine needles at a distance several times greater than I would’ve without vampirism. There were a handful of people who lived within the region, mostly the odd woodsman or two but the nearest village was over a day’s journey away and didn’t explain the presence of the lone individual walking almost directly towards me from the north.

  Curious, I waited in place with my bow held loosely in hand but still ready to vanish into the grass and draw an arrow if required. Bandits were not a concern as we were too far away from anything to be a target, but the growing fame of the Order of the Nine would draw them eventually. It was almost with amusement that I watched as the lone traveller appeared through the greenery, leading their horse along with the reins and humming what was unmistakably a legion marching tune under their breath. What was more amusing was that I found myself smiling at the sight, and the fact that the traveller was not unknown to me.

  “Good morning.” She called out as she entered the clearing, still leading the horse along who seemed completely apathetic to the fact that there were wolves in the area. Unlike its owner, I doubted that the horse didn’t know that the pack was nearby, and yet it didn’t show any sign of distress.

  “Good morning.” Holding my bow up above my head to show that I was no threat before taking a few paces towards them. “You’re a long way from the shrine of Kynareth.”

  The woman’s expression shifted from shock, to wariness, to recognition and she stood staring at me as I casually wandered over. “Sir Desin? We meet again.”

  There was little to show of the priestess in the woman in front of me, especially how Avita Vesnia, ex primus lanceae of the 6th Legion, had ditched her monk habit for something more suitable for travelling. A wide brimmed straw hat was firmly pressed onto her head and she was dressed in a simple, yet sturdy pair of pants and short sleeved tunic that did little to hide the multitude of scars up her arms. It was impossible to ignore the fact that in a previous life she had been a trained soldier, especially by the fact that clasped to her waist was a long bladed spatha instead of the typical Legion gladius.

  “We do indeed.” Despite the situation and my wariness at the somewhat close proximity of the wolf pack my mood was light at her presence. “What brings you all the way out here?”

  “Looking for you if I’m going to be honest.”

  “For me?”

  Trying and failing to swat a fly away from her face, she instead elected to blow some errant strands of her white-blonde hair out of her eyes. “You and the Knights of the Nine to be more precise. I hope you know how hard it is to find you all.”

  Chuckling to myself I shouldered my bow even while keeping one ear out for the wolves. “Oh I know it. If not for a map to the priory, Viconia and I would have never found it at all. In fact, you’re lucky enough to have found me out here.”

  “Kynareth guides the faithful it appears. Although after the past few days of travel I am glad to have finally made it.”

  “Almost.” Her expression changed to a quizzical one and I threw a thumb over my shoulder roughly towards the south. “The priory itself is a few kilometres away but I can lead you there.”

  “I’ll be much obliged Sir Desin.” For a brief moment she stroked her horse’s flank as it took the opportunity to crop at the grass. “Isabelle isn’t used to such exertions I’m afraid.”

  “But not you it seems?” I grinned to show that I was making a joke but she recognised it for what it was.

  “Being a priestess of the goddess of nature keeps you fit and healthy, and I’m used to walking everywhere.”

  Slowly turning around and moving alongside her as she clicked her tongue, I cast my gaze around the edge of the clearing and the hovering presences within the foliage. The whole wolf pack was nearby and while they had stopped in place as Avita and I had met, they were still close enough to make me wary. What was strange though was that they were obviously not hunting and a hundred metres away to the west I could make out the presence of the pack alpha.

  Unlike the others, he was not hiding but instead standing right on the edge of the clearing. To a mortal he would’ve been almost impossible to see but instead I could see the black-grey fur within the shifting shadows. If not for the way that the slight breeze flowed through his fur he could have passed for a stone or boulder and I knew that his eyes were only for me. It was even more disconcerting that there was no doubt in my mind that he knew that I was watching him.

  “Something wrong Sir Desin?” Avita said as I lingered for a moment, watching as the alpha wolf shook itself slightly, met my gaze for the last time, and turned away.

  “Nothing. It pays to be careful though.”