Faric, also known as Snow Fox by a few, was striding through the forest of the Rift, on his way to Ivarstead to see what this group, so called "Dovahfeyn" is all about. Dragon Hunters? He had seen a few, but he always kept his distance. He had never heard anything pertaining to the the hunting and and killing of dragons. He had heard of Alduin through a book or two. "The World Eater". He shrugged his shoulders and stopped in his tracks to stretch his muscles and limbs. He slipped on his hood, as a cold, almost frigid breeze drifted through the forest. He began speaking to himself, more of a whisper than anything.

"Dovahfeyn...." He said, the look in his eyes was serious and alert, but there was a hint of excitement on his face. "How many man or mer can say that they actually stalked, hunted and killed a dragon? What a glorious task to undertake. My arrows and magic thirst for draconic blood." He mumbled lowly, an almost sick and demented smile stretched across his face. "I'm glad that young man in Windhelm told me of this. Life was getting to be a bit dull."

He looked up at the sky, clear as it could be. The sky was dotted with silvery-white stars that poked their face through the brilliant auroras that Faric loved to observe as the swirled and whisped their way through the pitch black Skyrim night sky. That was where he had to be, the Throat of the World. Sooner than later, he arrived in Ivarstead...but the inn was loud and boisterous, something alluded towards being full with no vacancy. 

"Damn it all...I guess it's another night with no sleep." Faric sighed and continued through the small little village toward that legendary Seven Thousand Steps; the gateway to his goal. Faric stopped just outside the village, up the steps and gathered enough dry wood for a fire and found a place where he would stay relatively dry if it decided to rain or snow tonight. After he got the fire lit, he laid out his bedroll and pulled out a book and began to read it. He recently picked up this book on Skyrim's vast history. It was about the Dragon Priests in specific. He perused the pages for any useful information for the rest of the night.

When the sun brightened the crisp morning sky, he closed his book, packed up his bedroll and put out the fire  before continuing up the mountain. Faric loved the morning, crisp air, clear skies, and most of all, great fishing and/or hunting. He smiled as he pulled out some bread and some cheese and began to nibble on it slowly. He heard the voice of someone farther along the ancient trail. 

"Aye, Breton." Am old Nord said, walking along with his staff for support. "Are you here for the Dragons as well? I would only assume. Not too many people walked all the way up the Steps before Alduin appeared." He asked, a wry smile visible through his thick, bright white beard.

Faric removed his hood and retorted, "That's correct, old one. I figure they could use someone like me." He said lowly and serious in tone.

"I see, I see. Well, judging by the bow on your back, I don't think they'll turn you down. Enjoy the trek up the mountain. It really is quite beautiful this time of day." 

"Pleasant travels upon you old one." Faric said with a small bow before he re quickened his pace to reach High Hrothgar by midnight at the latest.