Chapter Text
Won't you take me
As I'm meant to be:
Wild, wild
Don't mistake me
For the wind
- Moon Girl by Ha Vay
Atmika remembers the night it happened—the night Hircine visited her in her dreams, though she wasn't aware it was the Daedric Prince at first.
She was traveling to a little town called Riverwood, past what once used to be known as Helgen (rumor had it that a dragon burned it down), when a snowstorm struck her neck of the woods. She had no option but to find shelter under the wing of a snowy hillside, huddling close to a weak fire and trembling under her deerskin clothes and Alik'r linen cloak. Though she was no stranger to the harsh Skyrim weather, winter was not her best friend; she grew up in the sweltering province of Hammerfell, after all, where most were a stranger to rain and snow.
But dwelling on one’s miseries hardly ever made the situation better, so Atmika closed her eyes and hoped she didn’t wake up stone-cold dead. Sleeping seemed almost impossible (and, perhaps, a bad idea) when exhaustion from days of travel and fighting finally hit her. Darkness overcome her consciousness, dragging her away from Skyrim’s wintery hellscape. Usually, she was a vivid dreamer, often thinking about home or one of her many adventures, but she had never experienced a dream as vivid as her running through the Tamriel wilderness.
She could almost recall the details with precision; her mind refused to forget. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel the branches dragging across her skin, her feet sliding across mossy ground, her heartbeat loud in her ears. There was something freeing, and perhaps a tad bit animalistic about the whole ordeal, for there was not a care in the world. Nothing mattered, save for the moment, for the rush of freedom, her blood pumping through her veins.
But then came the howl that forced her to a sudden halt. A magnetic force coaxed her gaze upwards, where it met the silhouette of a stag-headed humanoid standing on a cliff in the distance. Though it was far, Atmika could see its eyes gleaming like enchanted rubies in the dark, matching the crimson moon behind it. It was more terrifying then breathtaking, and for the first time, she realized she was not in a mere dream. What it was exactly, however, escaped her; she was not familiar with Skyrim's dieties.
An inhuman voice then, quite soothing in a way she could not explain, entered her ears, even though the creature was miles away.
"At-" it drawled "-mika. I have watched you for awhile, child. You hunt well."
Atmika stayed silent, unsure of what to say. This pleased the entity greatly.
"Shall you accept my gift, At-mika?"
She was drawn to the power riveting off the entity, unlike anything she had ever felt before. Above all, she was curious. Gift? What could it have possibly given her that Atmika couldn't find for herself? She was never one to rely on anothers, much less expect "gifts" that interested her, but this--she wanted to know what it was. What it meant. A foolish sentiment, now that she thought about it, but Hircine wouldn't have chosen her if he truly didn't believe she was worthy of his gift; if he thought there was a possibility of her refusing it. At times, it seemed he knew his beastly children better than they knew themselves.
The next part of the dream was the only part she had difficulty recalling, perhaps because it was filled with pain and fire. All she remembered from that night was waking up from the dream with a scream, clawing at her skin as if she was being lit on fire from the inside, blood boiling as Hircine's Gift coursed through her veins. She sobbed and withered in her bedroll, screams joining the howling wind's crescendo as her bones snapped, broke, shifting under her flaking flesh to make room for the wild. The first transformation was the most grotesque, for her body was adjusting, learning, accepting this new version of her, when until finally the torture ceased.
And from the horror, a hunter of Hircine arose.