Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5583506-20150810194031/@comment-5583506-20150811001102

Game was beginning to get scarce in the valley. As she looked around on the surrounding mountain tops she couldn't help herself but wonder where all the wildlife had gone off to. She was lucky if she managed to find a rabbit or two. Fortunately she had stocked up some weeks before on provision. If the weather conditions were to somehow miraculously change back into a warmer climate within the next couple of months, she wouldn't have to starve.

She felt an aching pain in her chest and froze up, clutching her hand to her right breast and began to breathe heavily and ragged.

The wolf cocked its head, looking confusingly at her as she began to cough; covering up her hand against her mouth.

"Don't... worry, Artik", she wheezed, coughing in-between the words. "I am fine. I am... fine."

It was a lie, and even the wolf could tell it by looking at its mistress. Animals saw more than mere men, after all. He could tell that whatever ailed her wouldn't get any better unless she got some proper treatment. But she was a long way from civilisation. Solitude and Markarth were the closest places to find an educated healer, but both cities were weeks away from her. She would be dead before she reached either of them halfway.

She stumbled and forcefully leaned against a pine tree coated in snow. Her eyes began to tear up as she forced the cough out of her throat. When the attack was over she gazed down upon her hand.

Blood...

She smiled nervously at the wolf, who seemed to be interested in what the red spots on her fingers were. "It's nothing, my dear", she said, quickly wiping the blood away on her fur leggings. She then fell to her knees and clutched her arms tightly around the wolf's neck, giving him a hearty embrace. "I will be fine."

It hurt her everytime she told him that lie, but the last thing she needed was Artik being all worried for her. It was for the best that he was ignorant of her condition, that way both of them didn't have to be miserable. The snow had been pushing the mountains of the Reach pretty hard for several nights in a row, making the paths almost impenetrable. It would get worse, it could only get worse.

"Come", she said, putting on a feigned smile for his sake. "Let's see if we can find our way back to the cabin and make ourselves some rabbit stew. Would you like that?"

Artik barked in approval and pressed his muzzle against her cheek.

She embraced him even tighter before rising up on her feet, bow in hand. "Come on! Race you to the cabin!"

She was in no physical condition to be running to the cabin, but she did it anyhow, just to indulge Artik. The wolf seemed more than eager to engage in some contest with her and began to happily rumble through the snow.

Blood Lung it was called. The illness that plagued her. According to her father, her great grandmother had perished from the same illness. Evelyne blamed the cold. It hadn't been kind to her. And she felt how she grew weaker with each passing day. Her daily rounds of ranging had been shortened. Even the perimeter of the areas she was dedicated to had been reduced to smaller and smaller circles, until she barely was able to walk a kilometer from the distance of her cabin.

She couldn't help but worry of what would become of Artik. No doubt he would be devastated over her incoming death, but she had trained him well. Artik would be able to survive without her. He would perhaps find himself a fine little she-wolf to have a litter with, the beginning of his own pack. He would do just fine. He was a proud wolf after all.

Finally she reached the cabin. A small building out in the middle of nowhere, resting just by the outcropping of a mountainside with a valley of snow-covered pine trees right below the slopes. She could barely wait for some rabbit stew. She knew after all that this would be her last meal...

She was bathing in cold sweat that night, struggling to breathe. She had crawled underneath a thick sheet of bear furs. Artik was whining anxiously, wondering what was wrong with his mistress.

She slowly turned her head, looking at him with half-open eyes. "Come here, sweetie", she said, her voice as frail and vague as a whisper. She slowly reached out her hand for him. "Come to me."

The wolf obeyed, lumbering somberly his way over to her, before he gave her hand a nudge with his head. His entire expression was that of sadness.

She wanted to cry, cry over the fact that she had to leave him. "Don't..." She interrupted herself to cough. More blood came seeping down her lips. "Don't be sad", she said with a broken voice. "I am going to meet my father again. And my mother. And all of those who came before them. You, however, need to live, sweet Artik. I don't want you to feel sad anymore. You will live and you will remember me... but not like this... You will live on and have a nice life. Find someplace as far away from this cold as possible. Find yourself a she-wolf. Find somewhere to..."

She gave out a sigh, beginning to feel how she could barely keep up talking. Almost all of her energy was sapped as soon as she much as uttered a single word.

Artik whimpered and gently licked her hand. It tickled. A tear fell from her eye, yet it felt cold upon her cheek.

''These weather conditions will only get worse... then there will be nowhere to run... for everyone...''

She coughed again, feeling the taste of iron on her tongue. She looked at Artik again, who was occupied licking her hand and brushing his head against her arm, as if he thought that she would be rejuvenated.

''Poor fool... ''she reflected. "S-stay with me now, Artik", she said with a hoarse voice, slowly fading away. "I do believe that... that... the fog... is rising..."

Her mind went blank as her eyes found themselves a dead spot in the ceiling to gaze upon, before everything fell into utter darkness. The last thing she felt as she passed away, was that of Artik's gentle licking.