Setting Out

Last Seed 20, 4E 201

I wake up in the early morning hours, and Gerdur and Hod are still fast asleep. Moving as quickly as I can, I snatch a few bits to complete my kit: a cooking pot and ladle, a lantern, a couple loaves of bread. I wrap them in a blanket and stow them in my pack. I gather my new broadsword, my bow, and quiver. A quick prayer to Talos, then I'm out the door.

It's raining as I set out, and I'm quickly drenched. The cobblestones along the road are slippery, and I have to move slowly to keep my footing in the downpour. I'm cold and, less than ten minutes out, miserable. Dammit. Maybe Gerdur was right and I'm going to catch my death of cold out here.

Or worse.

I'm not a mile from Riverwood when I hear the ominous howling of wolves, and I frantically draw my sword when I see their wicked eyes glowing in the trees. They charge down at me: five great brutes with sable fur and shining teeth. They circle, snarling, searching for an opening. I turn about, blade at the ready, showing them I am no easy prey.

My lip trembles. I want to go home. I don't want to die out here in the cold and rain. I don't want to be torn to pieces by beasts.

My breath halts as I lock eyes with the alpha, and he licks his fangs in anticipation. I squeeze my eyes shut as he charges...

...and I thrust my blade into his gullet. A yelp, a gurgling death howl, and he falls before me. I stare in shock for a moment, stunned by my fortunate strike. Then, remembering the others, I heave the blade out of his lifeless body and wave it at the others.

"You want a piece of this?!" I cry, trying desperately to keep my voice from quavering.

They see the hot blood dripping from the blade and think better of their attack. They slink back into the forest, whimpering, but I remain at the ready. I hear them charging off into the underbrush and then... only the wind and rain.

I slump onto the cobblestones to thank Talos for this unlikely victory and, once my nerves settle, set to skinning my first trophy. I work by lantern light for two hours, and, after much trial and error, my labors are rewarded with a fine pelt and two large pieces of meat.

I let the rain wash the blood and bile from my hands. A wave of euphoria washes over me as I see the light of the morning sun arch over the Throat of the World. I, Katje of Riverwood, have survived my first battle.

Maybe Gerdur was wrong after all.

OOC: I'm experimenting some with writing style. I'd originally intended to write this blog as if it were Katje's journal, recounting the events of each day. But a present tense, stream of consciousness narrative seems freer and easier to write. Which style do you like better?