I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood as my eyes flicker around the courtyard. Skjor told me to meet him here at night, and now the moon dominates the sky. It's time. I'm not sure for what, but I'll find out soon enough. The damned waiting proves to be too much; I start pacing as my breathing and pulse begin to speed up like a runaway horse. My own heartbeat fills my ears, and eventually it causes a dull throb behind my eyes. I find myself cracking my knuckles, a tick I picked up when I was just a kid. I force myself to stop and throw myself into the pacing. It doesn't work in the slightest. A few seconds later my hands are back in position and I'm cracking as many joints as I can.

My fur is sticking to me and I've broken out in a cold sweat. I take a moment to find a reflective surface to look at myself. My gigantic tangerine mane is plastered against my peach colored fur, the long hairs of my thicker mane tangling with the shorter hairs that cover the rest of my body. The white splash around my mouth and nose is the only other color on my face. And, below my armor there are spots of white on my hands, feet, stomach, and the end part of my fluffy tail. Throughout my pelt are thin lines of vermilion color that break up the flow of the peach color. Kind of like tiny rivers of darkness. They're barely visible, but in the light of day they brighten up my entire pelt. Usually I'd call myself quite beautiful.

At least, I think I'm beautiful. My aquamarine eyes and light orange nose are my best features, but there's more than just that. Like my ivory claws and decent sized breast. On any other day I might even stop to admire myself more. But today isn't any other day, and right now I'm terrified. My sweat is causing my fur armor to stick to me, and my leather boots are even starting to feel the heat. Oh well, it could always be worse. I could be wearing gauntlets and a helmet. Besides, I'm wearing the fur armor that leaves most of my upper body exposed. In fact, the only thing doing any real protection is the strap of fur around my breast. I'm the first to admit that my armor's shit, but in this instance it's actually helpful.

Now I can reach every part of my body in my attempt to hide the fact I'm sweating like a pig. I somehow manage to pat myself somewhat dry, and by the time Skjor arrives I'm presentable. However, the man still eyes me like I'm something that got stuck on the bottom of his shoe. "Are you ready?". I nod and hear my hide shield and iron sword bang together on my back. Skjor gives me a dirty look at the sound, so I quickly stop nodding and squeak, "Ready.". He looks less than impressed, but doesn't say anything as he begins leading me around the side of Jorrvaskr. When we stop we're standing beside the stone cliff that holds up the Skyforge. Skjor looks around, then reaches out and pushes against one section of the wall.

The rock slides away and Skjor steps inside. When I hesitate (following strange men into dark places doesn't seem like a good idea) he motions me in and promises, "Nothing bad is going to happen.". I slowly go into the cave and nearly jump out of my skin when the door slams shut behind me. Skjor scoffs and commands, "Come on.". I follow him deeper into the cave. We enter what appears to be a sort of sanctum. Four empty alters are around the rugged room, and a basin is raised in the middle of the area. Beside the basin is a sight that nearly causes me to run away in fright. The monstrous wolf-like creature turns its head towards me. The werewolf's black little eyes dig into me as a red tongue licks its dagger-like teeth.

Skjor walks over to the monster and places a hand on its shaggy black fur as he explains, "Aela here has volunteered to usher you into the higher ranks of The Companions.". I take a moment to digest the information before weakly asking, "Are all members of The Circle werewolves?". He nods and seems almost irritated as he further explains, "Lycanthropy is a great power that's rarely bestowed upon lower members. You should be honored that we consider you worthy enough to join our ranks and receive our blessing. Now, are you ready to move up and become one of us?".

I eye Aela and ask one last question. "What if I don't want to become a werewolf?". Skjor shrugs and looks offended as he snarls, "You won't move up in rank or be blessed with our gift.". Aela lightly hits his shoulder with her gigantic clawed hand. The man sighs and mumbles, "But I suppose we could wait until you're ready.". I take a few seconds to take in what's happening, then manage to squeak, "I'm ready.". Skjor seems slightly relieved he won't have to wait for me to make up my mind. The man pulls a dagger from his boot and struts over to Aela. He grabs the woman's arm and yanks it above the bowl, then slashes her wrist open. The blood splatters inside the basin and slowly fills it.

Once the cup is overflowing Aela pulls back, licking her own wound in an attempt to stop it. Skjor motions at the basin and commands, "Drink, and become one of us.". I slowly walk over to the raised bowl and climb onto the rock that holds it. My uneasy reflection looks back at me from the red liquid. Skjor motions again and sighs. "You said you were ready to share our power. Were you lying?". I shake my head and tentatively lean down, using my hand to scoop some of the liquid in my mouth. I nearly gag at the hot blood, but somehow manage to chock it down. A large buzzing noise fills my ears and I feel myself falling backwards, my head connecting with the floor.

Aela POV:

The second the Khajiit is down Skjor and I are beside her. My fellow Companion checks for a pulse while I sniff her. Skjor looks up at me and starts to say something, but he's stopped by a howl from the woman. Both of us spring away as she struggles to her knees, the transformation already overcoming her. In a trance-like state she frees herself of her items and begins rapidly twitching in a sick dance. Finally, thick black fur begins to burst through her normal pelt. The woman's fangs become longer and her entire body begins to morph as her insides change. When she's finally done she rises, and something different becomes apparent. She's an entire foot taller than me, and it's clear she's more heavily muscled.

The Khajiit sniffs the air and looks around. When her gaze falls on Skjor I realize something's gone wrong. All my companion can do is scream as the woman launches herself at him. The werewolf uses her gigantic arm to knock him aside. Skjor hits the stone wall and slides down to the floor, stunned. I howl and grab onto the Khajiit's leg, yanking on it as hard as I can. The woman stumbles and turns around, her lips curled back to reveal fangs similar to mine. I can see it in her eyes that she's no longer a reasonable and thoughtful human being. She's become a monster. A monster that's bigger than me.

I take one step back in preparation of a fight, but the woman's attention is elsewhere. She's looking behind me. I look over my shoulder and see the door Skjor brought the woman through is still slightly opened. It appears it didn't swing shut all the way. In one sickening moment I realize what the whelp intends on doing, but I'm too late to stop her. She rams into me and successfully forces me to the side. All I can do is howl and attempt to strike her as she charges past me. My claws brush harmlessly through her fur and my howl only seems to make her go faster. A crack tells me the woman's knocked the door open, and a howl tells me she's thrilled at her new freedom.

Somehow I don't think the citizens of Whiterun will feel the same way. I scrabble over to Skjor and nudge him with my nose. My friend grumbles and opens his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to get to his feet, but by then I already have a plan. I point outside and hop up and down slightly. Skjor gets the idea and kneels down, his transformation far faster than the Khajiit's. When we're both ready I rush outside, screams already reaching my ears. Skjor and I charge down the steps and instantly freeze. We're too late. We're far too late. Amren, Jon Battle-Born, Nazeem, Ahlam, and multiple guards litter the area around the Gildergreen. The werewolf stands in the middle of the mess, and she's not idle.

Some of the corpses are missing arms, legs, the stomachs, or any other part of their body that can be easily torn off and eaten. Even now the werewolf is shuffling among the dead bodies, sniffing at one and snapping off its hand. The werewolf is completely splattered in blood, and bits of muscle and meat are clinging to the fur around her muzzle. She's a grizzly and terrifying sight, but if we don't stop her she'll continue her rein of terror. So, I crouch down and prepare to leap at her. Unfortunately Skjor blows my plan to oblivion. My fellow roars and charges. The Khajiit looks up and leaps to the side. My companion can't stop in time and ends up hitting one of the poles that surrounds the small square.

He whimpers as he goes down, successfully knocked unconscious. The larger werewolf scoffs and begins walking over to him, licking her lips as she goes. I don't waste any time and leap, but don't snarl or growl. Making a noise is the stupidest thing to do during a battle, as Skjor just proved. I go flying through the air and land dead on the woman's back. She yelps as she goes down, too surprised to begin bucking or really fighting. I take her moment of distraction to keep attacking her. My claws dig into her flesh and tear as I chomp down on her ear, shaking my head in my attempt to subdue the larger werewolf.

For a few moments my attack works and she simply lies down underneath me, then she regains herself and fights back. All it takes is one buck from her and I'm sent tumbling off. The second she's free she bolts away, howling at nothing. Looks like my plan only served to make her pissed. I'm standing up when I hear screaming from the inn. I run there as fast as I can, but I'm still too late. An armored warrior is hanging from the Khajiit's claws as she desperately tries to bite through his armor. Ysolda, Hulda, and Mikael are all huddled together in the corner and shaking in fear. When they see me all three of them let out moans of terror and begin shaking harder.

Finally, the bloody werewolf manages to rip the dead man's armor off him. With a triumphant gleam in her eye she drops the man, settles down beside him, and begins feasting. I carefully look around the room and make preparations. I shove a table in front of the two doorways that lead outside, then begin stalking up to the woman. She's eaten the man's insides and is busy gnawing on an arm. Without a sound I charge at her. The woman doesn't even look up as she holds her closed fist out, allowing me to ram into it. I stumble backwards as the woman stands up. For a moment I fear she'll attack the huddled citizens, but instead she heads for the door.

The gigantic werewolf tosses the table to the side and struts through, bloody paw prints pointing at where she went. I manage to force myself to my feet and charge outside, leaving the citizens to cower behind me. I follow the prints until they reach the steps leading up to Dragonsreach. I freeze and can't decide what to do. Surely she wouldn't have the guts to go up to the Jarl's living place and try to kill anyone. More screaming answers my question.