Meanwhile, in Whiterun 

(stealing the modern werewolf hunter au. I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist)

The sheep lay open on the field, insides spilling out onto the snow in a spray of red: always more vivid than you expect. It looked almost comical, if you thought about it in a certain way.

Skuld covers her nose and mouth with her coat sleeve and squats down. Behind her, she can hear Erik trying not to gag. Irileth had kicked this up to them as a punishment for the goat thing, she was sure.

“Third sheep this week.” says Nimriel Pelagia, her sharp face pinched further by a hard life and too many winters. “Keep telling you, and you do nothing.”

“And we keep telling you, it’s wolves.” Skuld says, voice muffled by layers of thick wool. Nimriel shakes her head, a small, tight motion.

“Not wolves. Too many to be wolves, too brutal. Someone’s killing my livestock, and I want to know who.”

“I know that this must be difficult-” Erik begins, and Skuld rolls her eyes. Erik’s always got to be the hero. That’s his problem: he thinks he’s a cop in the movies, helping the needy and avenging the weak. But Nimriel’s not needy or weak. She’s tired, and angry, and getting desperate.

Skuld decides she’s seen enough and stands up.

“Look, I’ll make a note of it and see what we can do.” She gets out her pencil and notebook and makes a show of taking down Nimriel’s details. “We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

“Are you really going to look into it?” Erik asks, shortening his stride to hers as they walk back to the car. Skuld raises her hands and shrugs.

“Maybe.”

After all, there’s sod all else to do in Whiterun.