"As much as she respects and likes the new member of the Companions, Aela finds the Dragonborn a disruptive influence. Since she first passed by at the farm as the warriors slayed a giant and being quite dismissive of the warrior clan, the Dragonborn has been a large part of Aela's life and those of her warrior brothers and sisters.

Aela and the Dragonborn had been working together to ensure the security of the Companions and their secret. Many Silver Hand, the self-proclaimed Werewolf slayers, have died by their hand to this end while they recovered precious pieces of the ancient battleaxe Wuuthrad. Now, the Dragonborn has conducted work for the Harbinger himself and this worries Aela. She knows of the old man's restless soul, his eyes turning towards his end and Sovngarde. Aela would never say it to the unofficial leader of her clan, but such thoughts are not the thoughts of a Companion. There is the hunt, the heat of the battle and nothing else except to drink and sing songs in honour of those great deeds. Without her beast blood, Aela knows she would just be another sell-sword, another hunter, adventurer at best but she would be returned to the drudgery of mortal existence. Aela's hot wolf blood defines her, but change is coming.

“Something has shifted in the moons, sister.” she simply says as the Dragonborn passes by in the main hall of Jorrvaskr, having spoken again with the Harbinger.

She wanted to say more. To tell her to stop the short sighted work of the Harbinger and to leave them be. The doubts that Aela has seen in not only the Harbinger but also Farkas and Vilkas, scare her and their doubts are only fuelled by the presence of this honourable warrior. As the Dragonborn exits the main hall, Aela assumes to conduct some unknown task for their mentor, she sighs and heads down to her quarters. Little is gained for the wolf blooded from sleep but the human within them needs that routine so she lays down for another night of tossing and turning, made worse by her worry. Worry that these events will tear down her world, disband Jorrvaskr and hundreds of years of tradition and history.

When Aela was very young, still with her parents, she was hard faced even then. Her father would joke that he gained the son he never knew he wanted as the boyish Aela would disappear off to hunt alone, the bow she used nearly taller than she. Once, she was gone far longer than her normal ventures and her parents became worried. They traipsed the woods searching for their daughter until they found her stuck fast underneath a slain bear, evidently having had to have finish the beast with her knife. Even though her wounds were great, the scars of which she still carries to this day, she did not wince or blub as her father carried her home, nor when her mother tended to the wounds.

But as Aela lays in her bed worrying about her fate, a tear falls from her face and her mouth downturns, even though she fights it. Aela would not show weakness even to herself but the thought that the loss of the beast blood could happen is too much to bare. As she loses her fight, Aela shudders a little in her bed, mourning the loss that has yet to happen and the loss of her soul mate, Skjor, still raw.

...

“I'll be leaving soon.” Aela says to Vilkas.

Just the two remain seated around the fire in the main mead hall of Jorrvaskr.

“Where to?”

“There's nothing here for me now. The Companions without the blood of the beast... like I said, there's nothing for me here now.”

“What will you do?”

“I'm...” she says with doubt in her voice, then with confidence, “For now, I'll head to the wilds and hunt. It's all I know. Maybe some beast of the land, or a great battle with a dragon will take me. I shall give myself completely to Hircine and he will decide.”

“You want to go feral?!” Vilkas exclaims.

“I can't stay here.”

“Will you reconsider? You're still a mighty warrior. You still have a place here. What you do with your beast blood is up-”

“Without Skjor I...” she interrupts but leaves incomplete, then turns her face away to hide her weakness.

Vilkas sighs. It was always unsaid, what she and Skjor had. Even Aela didn't admit it completely. Sometimes in the morning at Jorrvaskr, Skjor would sit with Aela in his capacity as the Harbinger's right hand man to discuss the day's plans or events, but hoping she would show some sign that they share their life but her too stoic and proud to ever do so. It pains her now that she never let him truly know, that their lives were indeed shared, and she cherished what they had. He is gone now. As is the Companions she knew.

“I wish she'd never come.” Aela says with a fierce horrible look.

“The Dragonborn-” Vilkas begins to try and defend her.

“Ever since she walked into our mead hall, she's meddled with everything we do. The old man I could almost understand but look at you and Farkas; you were proud Companions until she turned up, placing doubt in your minds.”

“You know we were never at peace.”

“Nor should you be! The peaceful await their death, a warrior hunts it! I do right to leave this place.” she says dismissively as she stands, “I need some air and a run.”

She walks to the doors that lead to the courtyard.

“Aela... you're not going to-”

“Are you going to stop me? Mortal.”

Aela slams the door as she leaves, Vilkas disheartened by the disgust in her last word."