Silverlight Terrace who first turned us to the ways of the beast

The trek through the crag had been difficult enough for the burly Nord. He had found an inspiration in the climb, and he reveled in the feel of the stone against his feet. For all the challenge, Kodlak still belonged to the jutting mountainside. He was as much a part of the intimidating formation as were the northern lights to the sky.
 
It was midday when he had arrived in the lush and rolling hills of the terrace. Light danced from the green grasses, playing a swaying game with each pass of wind. Kodlak stalked carefully across the plain, doing well to keep his head up in search of other unwary travelers. Various birds chirped overhead and from the far perches in the trees. The quiet song of grass bugs could be heard beneath the rest. Though the sun cast a jutting light through the clouds, plumes of pearly white and deep grey rolled overhead in a sea of murky blue. The dusty Nord trekked on in a sweeping stride.

one terribly annoying aspect of living in the Between was that she still had to eat; Mildred had hoped that with death would come the end of having to hunt for every damned meal. it seemed most of her attempts ended in failure, and yet somehow she did not attribute this to her gauntness. rather, she believed her thinness to be another side effect of being dead, and that perhaps it was destined for only a small fraction of her hunts to succeed. 

nevertheless, disappointment still left her in the form of a ghastly moan when the mole she'd darted for disappeared beneath the earth. a great many things were disappointing, which resulted in, fortunately, a great many things to moan at. just for the hell of it, and because it was surely a requirement of a soul inhabiting the Between, another moan filtered from her maw. she'd grown remarkably adept at the perfect haunting moan, and perhaps some small part of herself was proud for it. 

it was the scent of a male that the ghoul picked up next, and she clung to his trail like a moth to light. she followed him without bothering to hide her coming, gaze settled somewhere on his rear when he came into sight, expression set in the haunting, forlorn look that seemed to come so easily to her features.

In the days of old, the Nord would have found himself in the opposite position; instead of the dusty leader to a trail of shadows and followers, he would have been the stalker behind. While he could note that there would be a hint of hypocrisy toward the notion of chasing away a tagalong, Kodlak was not fond of the thought that someone might be searching for him. The Companion was a good man – noble – and he took a great pride in his abilities, but he did not appreciate the sneaking of others.
 
Whirling, the Nord’s coat bristled just so that she might know he could sense her. Had the winds not been favorable to him, Mildred could have continued her following path. Instead, the sea swell of his gaze searched for signs of the shield maiden that he could scent. The brutish male sniffed deeply and then released a quiet, dull-toned boof.
 
“Come on out, sly follower,” he beckoned in a booming baritone.