The Kitten and the Wolf Ch. 2

The Kitten and the Wolf
Chapter Two-The Doghouse


Jorrvaskr was alive with energy, despite the early hour. Di'kana had noticed such in passing many times that the mead hall never seemed to sleep. Regardless to the day or time there was always the glow of a fire emanating from the place, always at least two voices echoing through the walls. Often more. Lively was certainly one word for it, but the idea that came to her mind was that of a restless sleep. Jorrvaskr was a place that didn't seem to know how to sleep soundly, or at all.

Now she approached the doors of the long building, ears struggling under her helm in their natural twitch forward when she detected sound. Many voices, all of them shouting. Still unsure if she was allowed to simply enter this place uninvited, she decided hesitation was not the answer today. With a pull the door opened, and she let herself in.

Within there was a cacophony of voices as two people, a Dunmer man and a Nord woman, threw blows at each other within a circle of on-lookers. Di'kana scanned the scene quickly, listening to shouts of encouragement and well as heckling from the spectators as the Nord woman struck hard, knocking the Dark Elf back on his rump and leaving him scrambling to get back on his feet and back into the fight.

At first Di'kana saw no one familiar, but on the far side of the room she recognized two people from frantic memory; the man she had struck and the woman who had been with him. Farkas and Aela, if she remembered correctly. She wanted to duck her head, but silently reminded herself that as long as she wore her steel helm her face was covered. It was actually hard to tell she was Khajiit until she turned her back and put her tail on display, which was not an action she planned on taking any time soon. Instead she continued her scanning to try and find someone who looked like they were in charge. She'd wait until the fight was over, of course, but she needed to ask someone how exactly one joined the Companions.

The Nord woman, Di'kana had been led to believe her name was Njada by the crowd, was powering through the fight with ruthless confidence. It didn't take long before the Dunmer was on the ground again, this time in surrender. As soon as the fight was over the group dispersed, the circle breaking apart and everyone returning to the long tables around the fire pit in the middle of the room. Apparently this squabble had occurred during everyone's breakfast. Once again looking around for someone who carried the air of authority, she stopped a man that was about to pass by her. He was balding, the hair remaining on his head left long and tamed back into a low tail, with a hard face like that of a battle worn watchdog. “Excuse me,” She said after reaching out to tap him on the shoulder and get attention in the still noisy room. “How does one join the Companions?”

The man came to a grinding halt, looking at her and trying to see what she was hiding under her helm. Usually she would have taken it off in deference to another warrior, but she still feared being recognized and thrown out. It would be just her luck if she'd struck the leader, though Farkas had seemed too hot-headed to be the leader-type.

“You'll want to talk to Kodlak, lass.” The man responded after a pause. “He decides who gets in and who doesn't. You'll find him in the basement, room at the very end. Impossible to miss; the door's always open. Stairs are over there, under those mounted fragments on the wall.” With that the man pointed the way, making her look up again. “Though one might wonder what one of your kind wants with the Companions.”

“Khajiit can also be grand warriors.” She responded shortly, wondering if he'd gotten a glance at her tail without her noticing. It looked like he'd only studied her face, which was obscured and shadowed by metal. “This is a place for warriors to come together, no?”

“That it is, kit,” The man actually chuckled now, giving her a pat on the shoulder before moving on. “Good luck, though. We don't let just anyone with a blade in.”

She felt her ears trying to move under her helm again; to lay flat against her head as her lips pressed together into a pout. Kit? Really? Was she really that small? Before the only ones who still called her kitten were her parents, and it always pleased her when they did. Now the idea of another one of these warriors, or perhaps many of them, adopting it as a regular nickname made her irritated. Without taking any longer to ponder it she moved for the stairs to the basement. Her steps were quick and exact, removing her helm only after she'd descended into the stairwell and gone beyond the door at the bottom.

The area below Jorrvaskr was another long space, this time with many doorways leading off to other rooms. There was much less activity here, with only a few milling about and one old woman moving with purpose. With her helm tucked under her arm, Di'kana moved for the room at the very end with the open door, just as the man upstairs had told her. She could see inside it before she got there; two men were within, both seated at a table tucked into the back corner. As she approached she saw they were clearly in the middle of a conversation, and chose to stand outside the room and wait. Rudeness would get her nowhere today.

Standing outside, with her helm finally off and her ears free to move as they would, she caught a few words that soon had her interested enough to be eavesdropping.

“...but I still feel the call of the blood.” One man, the younger of the two, said with exhaustion in his voice.

The elder spoke with the kindness of a grandfather, trying to sooth the younger one. “We all do. It is our burden to bear, but we can overcome.”

“You have my brother and I, obviously, but I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily.”

“Leave that to me.” The elder assured, ending the conversation with what Di'kana could imagine was nothing less than an encouraging smile. As she rounded the corner to enter the room, she had no doubt that the old man was Kodlak. His hair, though plentiful, was nearly white with age. Dark tattoos swirled on his face, and his eyes were burning fierce things behind his kind visage. He wore steel armor that had the look of something both effective and decorative, with several wolf motifs etched or embossed upon the metal. The man who sat with him was dressed in kind, though much younger with dark hair. Di'kana actually felt as if she'd seen him before... and quickly realized he looked a great deal like Farkas. The difference was that his hair was shorter and a bit more tame. That and he wore a calmer demeanor.

They both looked at her as she entered, and the man whom she assumed was Kodlak addressed her. “A stranger comes to our hall.” He said, both his stare and the gaze of the younger man putting pressure on her to speak.

“This one wishes to join the Companions.” She said, trying not to let that pressure make her voice shake.

“Would you now?” The older man, Kodlak, asked with a small and sly smile. “Here, let me look at you...” With that he turned in his chair and offered his hands up. Not exactly sure what he wanted, Di'kana bent forward and soon found his work-worn hands holding the sides of her face, bringing her head down until he was nearly nose-to-nose with her. His eyes, incredible pools of unfathomable energy, probed into hers as if he expected to see the essence of her very being. In that moment, she believed he could.

She didn't deny him, staring back and trying to match the ferocity of his gaze. Her father had always told her she had eyes like blue steel, that could cut through someone if she looked at them the right way. She hoped that was the look she gave Kodlak; one that showed her determination to be a warrior.

“Hm...” Kodlak released her after a few moments, letting her stand straight again. “Yes, perhaps... A certain strength of spirit...”

“Master, you're not thinking of accepting her?” The younger man asked.

“I am no one's master.” Kodlak reproached. “And last I checked we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire in their hearts.”

“Apologies, but perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider.”

“You didn't bother with this one's name.” Di'kana couldn't help it. She did have a title in this town, and it was because she'd slain a dragon. Surely they'd heard about that? “Di'kana was made Thane by your Jarl.”

“A political title, cat. No warrior's name has reached my ears yet.”

“Sometimes the famous come to us.” Kodlak said, cutting the argument short. “Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart.”

“And their arm.” The younger man pointed out, dryly.

“Of course.” Kodlak agreed, turning back to Di'kana. “How are you in battle, kit?”

She found herself growing stiff as he called her that. She actually preferred 'cat' to 'kit.' Still, she kept that to herself and answered. “I am able.”

“That may be so.” Kodlak gestured across the table to the man sitting with him. “This is Vilkas. He will test your arm. Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do.”

“Aye...” Vilkas responded, sounding less than enthused.

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The yard was simply a space behind Jorrvaskr with a few practice dummies and a lot of room for swinging. There was a porch of sorts with several tables, all stocked with food. It seemed pretty much every available surface was occupied by food or drink in this place. Di'kana saw fit to put her helm down on one of the chairs on their way to the yard, seeing as she'd just walked through the main building with her face exposed. She already had her foot in the door; if someone was going to try and toss her out now they would have to prove her unworthy.

“You know, one of the things I do have is a good memory.” Vilkas said as they descended the steps off of the patio to the dirt of the yard. “Most Khajiit look the same to me, but it's pretty tough to forget a face that laid up your brother for a few weeks with an ax wound.” He stopped a few paces out, turning to look back at her with his arms crossed over his chest. “Granted, we got your pretty little present after the fact. That was quite a swing for an accident.”

She wasn't sure how to react, following him down onto the yard and feeling her ears drop again. She knew there'd been a third person who had chased her, but she hadn't gotten a good look at him. Now she knew; the third person had been Vilkas, Farkas's brother. Looking at him, they could have been twins. “They were fighting a giant. This one wanted to help.”

“You're pretty brave to show your face around here after that.” Vilkas chuckled at her as she hung her head like a guilty kit. “Honestly, after everyone calmed down and Farkas healed up it wasn't such a big deal anymore... not to mention those baubles you sent us fetched a nice price at market. They weren't stolen, were they?”

“Does taking from bandits count?” Di'kana asked, lifting her head and finding herself glaring. Could a Khajiit go nowhere without being accused of being a thief? “If so, yes for all of them besides the ruby. I mined that one.”

“Easy!” Vilkas was clearly teasing her now, wearing a smirk. “C'mon kit, let's do this. Just a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry about me, I can take it. Let's just hope you've learned a little more control in the time you've been avoiding us, eh?”

Di'kana growled faintly as she drew her warhammer from her back, the heavy weapon feeling good in her hands. Some people questioned her choices in parallel with her race. Even her swordsmaster had wondered why she enjoyed the feeling of heavy weapons so much, along with heavy armor. The answer was fairly simple; she liked to put her whole body into attacking. The swing of a great sword, warhammer, or ax was something every muscle in her body participated in, and the feeling of unity she experienced with the weapon was something that gave her pure unadulterated joy. It didn't matter that some of the weapons she handled were nearly as big as she was; it only increased her involvement in the fight as she used both her strength and her weight to aim and power each strike. As for her decision to wear heavy armors; if she used two hands for her weapon it was best to have her shield strapped to her body, no?

Under all this metal she was a lithe creature capable of incredible stealth and speed, but she didn't have to use that all the time. Swinging at Vilkas, she found her grove at once and began the complex dance she was growing more and more accustomed to. He was ready for her too, a shield ready to catch each blow and a sword in his other hand simply because he was used to the weight. After a few strikes he called for her to stop, wearing an expression of concealed approval.

“Pretty good arm... Not bad, but next time won't be so easy.” He said while he sheathed his own effects. “You just might make it. But for now you're still a whelp to us, Newblood. So you do what we tell you.”

Whelp? She found herself thinking while returning her warhammer to her back. What am I now? A dog?

He drew out his blade once more, presenting it to her handle-first. “This is my sword. Take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, kit. It's probably worth more than you are.”

She nodded slightly while biting her tongue against the dig on her worth. Just what decided that?

Taking the weapon she was reminded of her upbringing with the merchant caravan; how she'd often be asked to sort though wears whenever a customer was looking for something they had stored away while on the road. Busy work like this was something she was used to, and she already knew Eorlund Gray-Mane because she bought supplies from him for her own little experiments into smiting. Without a word she turned and trotted straight for the path up to the Skyforge.

Here was betting this was only the first of a few errands she'd be asked to run today. After all, the sun had only just risen over the walls of Whiterun. There were a lot of hours left in this day.

Her first day with the Companions.

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As Di'kana had expected, Eorlund has an errand for her after she delivered Vilkas's sword for sharpening. As she'd been dreading, it was sending her directly to one of the other people who had been there the day of the accident. One of the more hot-headed ones; Aela. At least it wasn't Farkas himself; she wasn't sure what she'd say to him just yet. Vilkas said everything was alright now, but she felt like wounding was not such an easy crime to forgive. Still, she did as she was told and took the shield Eorlund had been working on for Aela, entering back into Jorrvaskr. Not spying the red-headed woman on the main floor, Di'kana assumed the woman was somewhere below.

The sleeping quarters were cramped and had many shadows. Di'kana's natural instincts told her it would be a good place to attack someone away from prying eyes during the day, when all the other Companions were out.

After wandering and opening doors to several empty rooms, Di'kana eventually found Aela in a chamber that clearly belonged to a hunter, or huntress. She wasn't alone; the balding man whom had pointed Di'kana in the right direction to meet Kodlak was also there.

Aela, eyes wide behind her war-paint, recognized Di'kana at once. “Wha- it's you!”

“Is there a problem, Aela?” The man asked.

“Remember some months ago, when Farkas returned with a chunk taken out of his shoulder?” Aela asked, her eyes only drifting briefly to the man before looking back at Di'kana. “It was this cat who sliced him.”

“Ah, the one who sent the pretty apology.” The man nodded. “You sure it was this cat? All those Khajiit look the same to me...”

“No doubt about it.” Aela nodded. “This is the only cat I've ever seen wearing such weighty armor. Though you got out of it pretty fast when you were on the run from us, didn't you?” Aela's eyes, like Kodlak's, contained an inner fire that was unsettling.

“It was an accident. This one did not want to fight a battle that she didn't mean to start.” She spoke quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment and keep her head up. These were warriors; she'd already apologized once. If she apologized again it would only show weakness. She followed her words by holding out her burden; the shield Eorlund had sent her with. “This one has your shield.”

“Ah, good.” Aela took it with a smile. “I've been waiting for this. But wait... if you're running errands around Jorrvaskr... you're the Newblood?” There was a moment when it looked as if Aela's disbelief would turn to anger, but instead she laughed. “Oh, that's rich! You tried to take Farkas's arm off; no wonder the old man thinks you've got heart!”

“I saw her training in the yard with Vilkas.” The man said, as if to add confirmation that she was indeed the Newblood.

“Ah, yes.” Aela was still snickering. “I heard you gave him quite a thrashing. Had to give the other brother a go too, huh?”

“Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that.” The man warned, though he was wearing a lopsided smirk as well.

“Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?” Aela asked Di'kana, eyes sparkling with mischief as well as ferocious energy.

“This one kills quickly, an extra blow to ensure death.” Di'kana answered, pushing herself to appear stronger. She needed to stand taller if she was going to fit in around here.

“Easy, sister.” Aela snickered. “No need to think about killing your fellow Companions... plus as I've seen, your extra blow could use some work as far as aiming goes.”

Di'kana felt her face warm, though through her fur nothing was betrayed. “Months ago. There was been much practice.”

“Let's hope so, I'd hate to be on the wrong end of a wild swing again.”

That voice. Di'kana felt her spine stiffen as she stood straighter, the fur on her tail rising up as the shock ran through her. Turning slowly, she knew exactly what she was going to see. Of course he'd show up, and just as everyone else was teasing her as well.

Farkas stood behind her, wearing armor that showed his arms instead of protecting them. As a result, she had a clear view of the scar from their last meeting.

“It's been a while.” He said, as if he were greeting an old friend. “Welcome to the doghouse, Kitten.”