The Man Who Cried Wolf

Dear Yisra,

The moment I saw you again in Riverwood made me realize that I cannot risk losing you again. I am writing this letter to tell you the one thing I have kept from you all this time, for your sake and ours. It is time for us to be honest to each other, because what lies ahead of us might cost us our lives, and I will not be able to bear the guilt if I had not told you.

Your wings did not surprise me. By the time the Greybeards had told me there was another Dragonborn, I could not help but think it is possibly you. I did not want to think that, however, for that would mean your life is in danger even more than it was before. We did not even have to talk about it since meeting once again, for it was fairly obvious that we were the only ones with wings. I am afraid for you, however. I know you might be feeling the same way because our task is extremely dangerous, but we can only hope that the Stormcloaks get out of our way until we finish dealing with the dragons. 

You deserve to know what I had been up to since I left Solitude burning. I had joined the Companions, a group of mercenaries fighting for money. I became one of them, and they treated me as brothers. You know this very well, if you have read my past letters. I left out one thing, however: they are more than brothers to me. They invited me to join them, be their blood-kin. To be a Werewolf.

Some things must be going through your mind right now. It makes sense now that once, you thought you were hidden really well and I could still detect you, yes? That even with your shadow-like armor, I could still follow you at night without tripping on rocks or hitting trees. That you had to change your scent to hide from me when I was in Riften. I knew that scent was familiar, but I do not know what it was. I did not think it was possible to change someone's scent. You outsmarted me.

Apart from that, I can call on ethereal werewolves to fight by my side, but they neither cast destruction nor healed me. I always welcome their company in a battle, though.

I keep trying, but it seems they can't talk.

 I wish you'd be able to ask me to transform into a werewolf, turn around, and wait for me to do so, but I will decline such request. Whenever I'm in my feral state, I lose all inhibitions. I attack anybody and anyone, looking to eat their meat for my own gains. I run where no one is around when the moon is high and bright before I transform. You might have even heard of my howls. It is not a pretty sight. Thus, I will only be showing you illuminations I took when I transformed once at will, in broad daylight. I hope you won't be disappointed.

"Heyyyy, baby, don't be mad."

It is quite painful to transform from a human being to a ferocious werewolf. My equipment and bags fall off, making them available for thieves to take for free. The skin on my arms rip from my fingertips to the shoulders and are replaced with fur from underneath. I could feel my head elongate, my nose turning to a snout along with my mouth, and my teeth turn to fangs. You can just look at the illumination I took, just in case you're curious.

Disgusting.

Where did all that equipment go?

I do hope that this revelation would not bring us apart again, only closer. We are both wild animals at heart, and I can feel it whenever we're together. You know I love you always, my dearest nightingale.