Mirelle neatly tucked her dark brown hair into twin ponytails on either side of her head. The hood of her red traveling cloak – which she wore so that hunters would know that she was a person and not a wild animal when she traveled through forests – was left down as she stood back up from the stump she had sat down to rest on. It was relatively warm for a mid-Frostfall day, despite being cloudy to the point of being overcast and gray, so she was dressed in a corseted, white cotton peasant top and a brown, knee-length wool skirt. She wore knee-high brown leather boots that had seen a few years of traveling across Skyrim's mountains and fields, but were nonetheless taken care of and showed only a few signs of wear and tear. Being a courier was not an easy job, but it was never boring and it paid really well, which is why Mirelle signed up for it. It could, at times, be dangerous, but she had at least learned enough to be able to defend herself with her steel dagger.
Today, she had been sent from Markarth to deliver a letter to Falkreath's alchemist, Zaria; there was no major rush, so she could take her time. The woods, hills, and river in the area between the Reach and Falkreath were some of the most beautiful in the whole province, in her opinion, and the wafting smell of pine trees and rushing water made her feel refreshed and invigorated. The earth beneath her feet was soft enough to give but solid enough to support her weight without her worrying about slipping, and contrasted with the occasional flat rock or stubborn root that peeked out.
Little did Mirelle know, she had a rather unwanted follower; to a casual observer, he seemed like a pretty average Nord man – long blonde hair, pale olive skin, a bit of a scruffy goatee – but Kjellar was no ordinary human. Initially, he had come out here for a hunt, knowing that these wilds were not normally frequented by human activity and he could pursue his prey – generally elk or deer – in peace. However, his amplified, lupine senses picked up on the scent of this young woman passing through the forest, and that whiff of fertile femininity reminded him of a distinctly different sort of hunger that he felt he needed to satisfy... and she would be the perfect recipient. Kjellar began to sniff out that intoxicating aroma, faint though it was, and tracked her through the woods, making note of trees with her scent on them (Mirelle tended to touch the trees as she passed, to keep her footing).
As Kjellar approached, Mirelle felt a chill of fear go up her spine, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she paused to look around. She unsheathed her dagger, and got into a fighting stance, ready to defend herself as she heard rustling among the leaves.
She was about to call out to see who was there (as there was no use in hiding, her red cloak made her blatantly obvious), she heard a rugged, masculine voice behind her, one that was clearly restraining heavy breaths.
“Well now, what's a lovely lass like you doing out here all alone, hm?”
Mirelle whipped around like lightning, her blade flashing; she could feel her heart pounding, this stranger seemed strangely more threatening than anyone or anything else she had thus encountered on her many journeys across the province. She met Kjellar's intense green eyes, and backed away to keep her distance, the dagger always facing him.
“I don't have anything you want, so it's best if you just be on your way and let me make this delivery.”
He shook his head, with a rather cruel laugh, “Oh no, that is where you couldn't be more wrong.”
The sudden realization terrified Mirelle, but she was afraid to turn her back on him for an instant, even if it meant an attempt to flee. Kjellar flashed a wolfish grin and he gave her a dark, provocative glare, “Go ahead. Run.”
The poor woman somehow knew that no matter what she did, she probably was at a loss. He hadn't been the least bit worried about the fact that she brandished a blade, and even dared her to try and escape, like he was sure that she could not outrun him. Nevertheless, she decided her only option was to attempt to get away.
Hunted [F!DB(undiscovered)/M!Werewolf] [part 1]
Today, she had been sent from Markarth to deliver a letter to Falkreath's alchemist, Zaria; there was no major rush, so she could take her time. The woods, hills, and river in the area between the Reach and Falkreath were some of the most beautiful in the whole province, in her opinion, and the wafting smell of pine trees and rushing water made her feel refreshed and invigorated. The earth beneath her feet was soft enough to give but solid enough to support her weight without her worrying about slipping, and contrasted with the occasional flat rock or stubborn root that peeked out.
Little did Mirelle know, she had a rather unwanted follower; to a casual observer, he seemed like a pretty average Nord man – long blonde hair, pale olive skin, a bit of a scruffy goatee – but Kjellar was no ordinary human. Initially, he had come out here for a hunt, knowing that these wilds were not normally frequented by human activity and he could pursue his prey – generally elk or deer – in peace. However, his amplified, lupine senses picked up on the scent of this young woman passing through the forest, and that whiff of fertile femininity reminded him of a distinctly different sort of hunger that he felt he needed to satisfy... and she would be the perfect recipient. Kjellar began to sniff out that intoxicating aroma, faint though it was, and tracked her through the woods, making note of trees with her scent on them (Mirelle tended to touch the trees as she passed, to keep her footing).
As Kjellar approached, Mirelle felt a chill of fear go up her spine, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she paused to look around. She unsheathed her dagger, and got into a fighting stance, ready to defend herself as she heard rustling among the leaves.
She was about to call out to see who was there (as there was no use in hiding, her red cloak made her blatantly obvious), she heard a rugged, masculine voice behind her, one that was clearly restraining heavy breaths.
“Well now, what's a lovely lass like you doing out here all alone, hm?”
Mirelle whipped around like lightning, her blade flashing; she could feel her heart pounding, this stranger seemed strangely more threatening than anyone or anything else she had thus encountered on her many journeys across the province. She met Kjellar's intense green eyes, and backed away to keep her distance, the dagger always facing him.
“I don't have anything you want, so it's best if you just be on your way and let me make this delivery.”
He shook his head, with a rather cruel laugh, “Oh no, that is where you couldn't be more wrong.”
The sudden realization terrified Mirelle, but she was afraid to turn her back on him for an instant, even if it meant an attempt to flee. Kjellar flashed a wolfish grin and he gave her a dark, provocative glare, “Go ahead. Run.”
The poor woman somehow knew that no matter what she did, she probably was at a loss. He hadn't been the least bit worried about the fact that she brandished a blade, and even dared her to try and escape, like he was sure that she could not outrun him. Nevertheless, she decided her only option was to attempt to get away.