4E 10, High Rock

A massive splash broke the relative quiet of the morning forest, startling a mass of birds that shot up into the canopy with alarmed cries. The source of said splash shot up out of the water, spitting out liquid before barking out in Jel.

“<Missed! Get it!>” A black Khajiit sprang from rock to rock, eyes on the massive fish that was going to be their next meal if he had anything to say about it. He could see the tear in the tailfin where Jeer’s spear had nicked it when it sprang out of the shallower waters, scooting upstream in an attempt to escape. J’hasi dove after the flash of scales, teeth sinking into the top of the tail, claws missing the first swipe, leaving him to get smacked right in the face with a panicking, indignant fish. The second swipe and claws held fast, the Khajiit surfacing quickly, trying to keep his mouth shut even as a mild panic fluttered in his chest at not being able to properly breathe for a few moments. Jeer caught up a few moments later, chest heaving.

“<I can’t have you showing me up like this. What would the tribe say?>” J’hasi huffed with a mouthful of squirming fish, grabbing it more firmly with his hands before snapping its spine, holding it out for his friend to take.

“<Fen don’t miss next time.>” Jeer sighed, taking the fish by the gills, a slight smile on their face at the weight.

“<And here I thought you didn’t mind getting a little wet.>”

“<I don’t. I just don’t appreciate getting smacked in ff-thhe face with my breakfast.>” He shook his head, water sprinkling over the surface of the small river shallows before he got up, more water pouring from his sodden fur and clothes. Jeer made their way back to shore, grabbing their knife and setting to work gutting their catch, splitting it in half for the two of them to share, scale side down on the rock.

“<Come, while it’s fresh.>” J’hasi sighed, wringing out his mane before sloshing out of the water too, dropping to a crouch to pick up his half and sinking his teeth into the flesh, picking a bone out before chewing, setting to work to pick out the other bones from what he wasn’t currently chewing. Jeer bit into their half of the fish with a smirk.

“<Only hatchlings pick at their meals, Marsh.>”

“<I’m also fond of not choking.>” Jeer shrugged, continuing to eat, looking out over the river, the trees… They sighed.

“<I hope this search of yours is fruitful. These trees are far too small. I feel like I’m going to get snatched up by something with nasty talons and a hungry belly.>” J’hasi huffed.

“<Ff-this place isn’t nearly as dangerous as home, relax. Fhe worst is probably a bear.>”

“<What’s that?>”

“<Um…a big furry fing wiff-with teefth and claws and a nasty temper. Powerful, too.>”

“<…so like the thing you’re trying to cure yourself of.>”

“<…if you wanna put it fat way…>”

“<Can’t say I’m eager to meet such a thing. I don’t mind testing my craft, but I’d like to live long enough to improve upon it.>”

“<Fen practice your aim first.>” J’hasi took another bite of fish, a little more aggressively than needed when it jerked, as if the fish was trying to get revenge on him for catching it. Jeer finished their half, licking their teeth clean of flesh with a satisfied hum.

“<Wonder if the birds here are any good. You said we were going where there wasn’t much standing water, right?>”

“<Birds around here are too small. Not worth fhe effort.>”

“<Iunno, that one seems a decent size.>” J’hasi turned, freezing mid-chew when he saw a massive raven perched on a fallen log nearby, watching the two of them. The scent would’ve given it away if the size wasn’t unusual enough. Burning herbs, entrails…and too intelligent of a stare for just any normal bird. He stared back for a moment before dropping his fish to the rocks and darting after it. The raven startled and flared its wings before taking off into the forest. He could hear Jeer calling after him, but he was not going to let this bird go. He knew what it really was.

J’hasi was still a little tired from the fish escapade before, feeling that itch that was growing stronger night by night, one he tried to stave off by eating more raw meat than usual, one that he didn’t want to give into right now.

The itch that was the damn reason he was chasing this thrice-damned bird into the forest like a madman in the first place.

“<Marsh! Slow down!>” The enormous raven let out a caw as if agreeing, which set the Khajiit’s jaw on edge, baring his teeth before he dipped under another branch, then sprang off of a fallen trunk, fangs and claws bared. The bird fluttered in a panic, losing some speed, which cost it its slim lead. The moment the Khajiit caught it, it poofed into a cloud of acrid smoke that stung his nose and eyes, the two of them hitting the ground hard, tumbling to a halt. Jeer caught up a few moments later, finding the Khajiit panting, knifepoint at the hollow of a bewildered and out-of-breath Breton’s throat. The Breton panted out a laugh.

“You certainly caught me off-guard. So, is there something I can do for you? A spell? A love potion? A tonic to soothe that awful temper of yours?” J’hasi hissed.

“Cut the games. I know what you are.”

“Clearly, else you wouldn’t’ve been so determined to chase down a harmless bird.” Jeer made a confused noise behind him.

“<Uh…where’s the bird?>” J’hasi growled, ears flicking back.

“<Later, Jeer.>” The Breton smiled.

“I don’t suppose your large friend there could retrieve my cloak? It’s a bit nippy out here.”

“Don’t think so. You aren’t going anywhere.”

“<It’s naked.>”

“<Quiet.>” The Breton sighed.

“It’s hardly civilized to have a conversation like this. What if someone happened upon us? Knowing those living in the cities, they’d gossip about you two for years.”

“Don’t care. You have information I want, and you’re going to tell me if you want your throat to stay intact.” The man looked at him closely, then chuckled.

“My, my, you do have a problem.” J’hasi growled, only to yelp when the Breton moved quicker than he expected, grabbing his wrist and twisting it around behind his back, freeing himself in the process. The Breton then released him, dropping the dagger and brushing himself off, looking up at Jeer.

“Would you be so kind as to return my cloak to me? I daresay that having a conversation in the nude isn’t how I would spend a lovely morning like this.” Jeer stared back blankly.

“<Uh…what did they say?>” J’hasi rubbed his wrist, glaring at the witch.

“<Give me his cloak.>”

“<I don’t think that’s what they s->”

“<Just give it.>” Jeer sighed, picking up the worn heavy fabric from where it was tangled on a branch.

“<Touchy, touchy. Are you going to tell me where the bird went?>”

“<Fhis is fhe bird, Jeer. Don’t let him have fhe cloak, it might be how he shapeshifts.>” The Breton frowned a little.

“If you’re concerned that somehow having the cloak means I’ll turn back into a bird and fly away, I assure you that I can do that well enough in just my skin. I just want my pipe is all. And some tea, if you’re willing to have some manners for five minutes.” J’hasi scowled as Jeer handed him the cloak, eyes locked on the Breton.

“You shift, I’ll do the same, and I won’t be so gentle catching you the second time around.” The Breton smiled.

“No need for that, I’m afraid. You’ve tuckered me out. I really should get out more.” J’hasi gave the cloak a small sniff, catching the scent of herbs and the like, but nothing like the cloud that had surrounded them after he caught the witch. He handed it over with a scowl, the Breton accepting it gratefully.

“Thank you. Now, have a seat. You’ve intrigued me, so I’ll be willing to talk for a little bit, provided you keep your teeth and claws to yourself.” J’hasi warily watched as the Breton sat down, wrapped up in his cloak before extracting a few pouches and a waterskin, patting around a moment before apparently finding the pocket that contained a long pipe. He tamped down some dried herbs into the bowl and lit it with a hiss of fire magic from his fingertips, waving it off once the insides were lit enough for a few puffs.

“Of course if you’re so adamant on standing, you can do that too. It’s terribly rude, I was hoping that someone like you would have some manners. Travelers from Black Marsh, I presume?” J’hasi’s ears flicked back.

“What makes you so sure?” The Breton smirked around his pipe, a curl of smoke escaping from between his teeth.

“Your large friend is dressed like someone from the inner marsh tribes, as is the dialect of Jel you’re both speaking comes from. I spent a fair amount of time in Black Marsh, sadly not long enough for my liking, but when you run across the wrong clan, sometimes a retreat is the smartest thing to do.” He beamed at Jeer.

“<Sit, enjoy yourself for a moment. No harm done, just a little misunderstanding is all.>” Jeer’s eyes widened at the Jel. Accented, but understandable. They sat down with a thump, tail curling around their legs.

“<So are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to keep sitting in the dark?>” The Breton smiled, pulling out a cup from his cloak, pouring in water from the skin, already piping hot to steep before offering it to Jeer.

“<My name is Grantham. I’m a witch of Glenmoril Wyrd, which is why your friend here took after me like a mad lupe.>” Grantham smiled, giving the Khajiit a knowing look.

“<I presume you’ve run into others of my coven?>” J’hasi’s muzzle wrinkled a little before Jeer gave him a look, to which he dropped to sitting in the grass as well, fingers still curled around the handle of his dagger.

“<Could say fhat. Fhey said fhey cured me, but next mooncycle I shifted. Been looking for fhem ever since.>”

“<Names?>” J’hasi hissed a little.

“<Ettiene, Isobel, and Fallaise.>” Grantham hummed, nodding a little as he poured a cup for the Khajiit, setting it in front of him, then a cup for himself, corking his waterskin and placing it back into his cloak once more.

“<I’ve heard of them. New, relatively speaking. Imperials from Cyrodiil that learned the art. Wouldn’t trust them for an inch.>” J’hasi’s ears flicked back.

“<I got fhat already.>” Grantham chuckled, smoke ghosting between his teeth before he removed his pipe, inhaling the fumes from his tea before drinking.

“<Yes, which is why you hunted me down like the wolf lurking just under your skin. Persistent. Focused. You wear it well. Better than most.>” J’hasi scowled.

“<I want it gone.>” The Breton smiled, replacing his pipe between his teeth.

“<Rejecting a blessing from Hircine himself is a bad move. But I understand not everyone sees it as such.>” The Khajiit’s ears flicked back.

“<It wouldn’t be the first time I rejected a Daedra’s ‘gift’.>”

“<Aren’t you a bold one.>” Grantham turned to Jeer-rah.

“<The tea is fine to pair with fish, my friend.>” Jeer frowned, glancing at J’hasi before stuffing the fish that the Khajiit had ditched earlier into their mouth.

“<I’m just following them. And listening.>” The Argonian picked up the tea and gave it a sniff, fans spreading before taking a sip, eyes closed. Grantham chuckled.

“<You’ll go far. It is a pleasure to meet you.>” He turned back to J’hasi.

“<If it’s a cure you want, you’ve caught the wrong bird. My specializations lie elsewhere. Hircine and I are not on speaking terms currently, and I haven’t been in contact with the rest of the coven in some time.>” J’hasi’s muzzle wrinkled, the Breton holding up a hand to stop him when his mouth opened.

“<However…I will make inquiries the next time I come in contact with them. Sniff me all you want, you’ll find that I rarely lie. Little point in it when you’re conversing with one who can smell deceit. Speaking of…>” He pulled a smaller pouch out of his cloak, sprinkling a few petals into the Khajiit’s tea before handing him the rest of the pouch.

“<Having a bit of that before bed will ease your temper. I’d suggest allowing your wolf some human flesh now and then. While most would be opposed to that sort of diet, I understand that some Saxhleel tribes practice cannibalism, so perhaps that isn’t outside of your comfort zone.>” J’hasi’s eyes narrowed.

“<I fhought you said fhis wasn’t your area of expertise.>” Grantham smiled.

“<Learning to appease lycanthropes is part of the job. Many of Hircine’s faithful are blessed in a way as you are, and do not handle it well. A cure isn’t as widely distributed.>” The Breton smiled, taking another sip of his tea.

“<Feel free to seek out other witches if my answers do not please you. You’ll find that a great many are not as sociable as I. Especially after such rude treatment.>” Grantham took a deep pull of his pipe before looking at J’hasi more seriously.

“<Mind your temper. Even with the full moon approaching, not all witches are so accommodating.>” The Breton finished his tea with a sigh, a few more puffs on his pipe before the smoke abruptly ceased from the bowl, breathing the rest out in a curling stream from his mouth.

“<And now…I must take my leave. Enjoy the tea. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.>” Grantham pulled his cloak around himself, then a puff of smoke and he was an enormous raven once more, and now that he wasn’t flying away, the Khajiit noticed that his feathers were faintly patterned with the same markings as his tattoos. And then he flew away. Jeer smiled.

“<For a smoothskin that turns into a bird…I like them.>” A moment’s pause and the Argonian looked over to J’hasi’s tea.

“<Are you gonna drink that?>” J’hasi sighed, picking it up and smelling it, finding nothing that seemed to be poison, then took a sip.

…it was delicious.