Arwen glanced around at Thessaly as Ennis just about choked to death on nothing, a cracking a grin. She waved for Thessa to relax, sitting back on her hands.

"I guess I'll take that as a 'no,' Ennis," she said, starting to laugh. The more she watched him, the more she giggled, her own cheeks tinged with pink. "Have a good nap?" Arwen wiped her eyes and sat up, turning so she faced a point between the two of them. "We were just talking about the day we met Ennis outside the tavern, remember? Apparently he and I had met before that moment down the road, when we held him upside down." Smile softening slightly, she propped her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands again, turning her head to Ennis. "Sorry for not remembering you. Either you were unremarkable, or I was really drunk." There was a pause, in which she stared at him, looking entirely serious. "I'm joking, of course. You're not totally unremarkable. That red hair does it."

Thessaly yawned and stretched. Her muscles were still sore and tired from going so long unused. Even her arms protested a little from her earlier session with her swords. But the warmth from the stone and her covers made the soreness much more bearable.

She blinked when she realized that she hadn't fallen asleep covered in a fur. And it wasn't the ratty old thing she'd taken from Hrothgar, either. She glanced up and saw Ennis grinning pointedly at her.

Ah.

She considered scowling at him, just to discourage this type of display, then realized the feeling of the fur between her fingers was soft and clean, as though recently cured. It was rather nice, actually, like something she'd have picked for herself, given the opportunity. She looked up at him again. A little of the glamour of his grin had faded, making clearer the hopeful shine to his expression. Maybe she needed to stop thinking about this kind of thing as a display, she realized. She'd let Ennis join them because she'd missed the feeling of belonging to a pack. If she didn't start treating the others as part of that pack, they wouldn't ever be one. And it could have been the warmth and the nap talking, but she was feeling a bit fuzzier than usual.

"Thanks for this," she said, hefting the fur and nodding.

The earlier doubt fled the bard's expression. He proudly threw out his chin and grinned unabashedly at her.

"My pleasure, lady Dragonborn," he said, sweeping a short bow.

She rolled her eyes and began packing up the fur, shivering a little at the cold air. She scooted closer to the fire that had been set up while she slept. She took a moment to appreciate its presence. This was why she wanted a pack. To wake up to friendly faces and a fire.

"Nothing exciting happen while I was out?" she asked of Arwen.

Arwen watched Thessaly pack away the fur, glancing at Ennis. She had noticed his silly, proud grin, and realized she made the same gestures when she was proud. This troubled her. While she had grown friendly enough with the bard, she was still a ways away from finding him to be a close companion, and if she were being truthful, she thought it was a rather silly motion. She vowed to stop doing it- if she could.

"No, nothing really," she replied. Arwen sat back on her hands and shrugged, crossing her ankles. "Ennis and I had apparently met, before I met you. I thought he remembered me because we'd slept together, but that terrible coughing you heard was him choking on his one spit." She grinned and started laughing, covering her mouth and completely unable to control it. "It was the funniest thing," she cackled in mirth. After a few moments, she calmed down and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Sorry, Ennis. I legitimately thought we'd slept together, I'm sorry. That's usually where people in taverns around Whiterun and Riften remember from from. Usually women, but the occasional man remembers me."

At Arwen's teasing mention of their assumed first association, Ennis' bag slipped from his fingers and clattered to the stone.

"We did no such thing!" he cried, sounding perfectly scandalized.

Thessaly, just finishing with her own pack, glanced up with a grin. When he met her gaze, the crimson splotch across his nose grew deeper.

Arwen began laughing.

Thessaly laughed a little herself, but decided against comment. She was very interested to find out what Arwen's first impression of the man had been, before he'd been in their mixed company, but she knew it would be better to ask once outside of earshot. Arwen may have been shameless, but Ennis was too clever by half to let anything go without side comment, and Thessaly trusted Arwen's judgement as it was. About people, anyhow.

She shouldered her pack, but misjudged the weight of it. The momentum threw her to one side and she felt herself tipping.

Ennis' hand was suddenly gripping her arm, the other one bracing her pack.

"You sure you're ready?" he asked. "We could rest a bit longer here."

Thessaly got her feet back under her and shrugged him off.

"I'm fine," she insisted. As fine as she was going to get at this point. "Let's get moving."

With the fire starting to die, Arwen packed away her blanket and stood before she put her bag over her shoulders, leaving it on the ground as she stretched her arms over her head.

"Honestly, Ennis, did you expect any other answer from Thessa?" she said, dropping her arms. She bent to pick up her bag and pulled it over her arms, hitching it up on her back. "She's tough. I don't know if you remember, but she got shot in the shoulder with a barbed arrow and didn't even cry. I'd probably weep a little bit, at least. Those barbs are painful...." Arwen looked slightly thought for a moment, but turned her head to shake it from her mind. "Especially when it's just on the skin."

Without waiting any longer, Arwen moved to stomp out the remaining fire, crushing bits of dehydrated wood under her boot until they stopped glowing. Once the embers had almost entirely faded, she stopped and dusted off her shoes.

"I'm ready. That was some desperately needed warmth."

Ennis took the lead as they made their way out of the valley, map in hand. Thessaly let him get several paces ahead of them before falling back so she could talk with Arwen, all the while keeping the bard in sight.

"So," she said. "You'd met him before you met me? Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

Arwen followed along behind Ennis, happy to be moving again. Maybe it would warm her up some.

As Thessaly dropped back to speak to her, she responded and lowered her voice.

"I honestly didn't remember," she said quietly, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. "I was probably drunk off my ass, to be truthful with you. I vaguely remember a redheaded person in the tavern across the room, but after talking with some people, I don't remember anything. You've seen me drunk. I don't remember what happened that night we returned to the inn after the barrow. Well, I remember seeing a pendant, but that's all.... I'm sorry. I'd have told you if I remembered."

Thessaly shook her head, a little frustrated. It made more sense than it didn't. Arwen did have a penchant to get black-out drunk when it suited her. And she wouldn't have any reason to hide something like this from Thessaly. Still, it would have made her feel better to know just a bit more about this duplicitous bard who was leading them through an unfamiliar wilderness.

"You don't suppose he planned all this, do you?" she mused aloud to Arwen.

She wouldn't have put it past him to have staged their first meeting. Not that his series of first impressions had done him much good, she figured, but he had successfully wormed his way into their lives.

Ugh, this guesswork was making her head hurt. There were just so many angles to consider where this boy was concerned. She supposed there wasn't much reason to worry, if all she was going to do was give herself headaches. Better, perhaps, to think more on his current motivations. What he wanted, more than how he'd gone about getting it. But those were linked. All were parts of the puzzle that made up -

Lost in thought, Thessaly missed the half-buried root that caught her foot and pitched her forward.

"Ah!"

"No, I don't think so," Arwen replied, shaking her head. "No.... Though, he'd probably know where you were headed the same way I did. I suppose it's possible."

Arwen thought about it a little harder. It certainly was possible. But, even if he'd known where Thessaly was going, he hadn't known who she was as he followed them through the barrow, had he? She didn't think so. Perhaps he had been feigning his surprise, however. The more she thought about it, the more confused she got. She could see on Thessa's face that the elf was also contemplating this intently, maybe a bit more penseive than Arwen.

"Okay," she started with her hands out, "maybe there's a good chance that he did plan this. He's kind of a sneaky, sort of coniving jerk." Arwen glanced at Thessaly. She didn't seem to be listening, but she continued to talk anyway. "And he pulled my hair, so maybe I'm more inclined to believe that. And I'm pretty sure he's the biggest liar I've ever met. And that he's hiding a lot that could be detrimental to us. But you can't have adventure without-"

Thessaly suddenly started to fall, and Arwen's first instinct was to grab her by the arm, but she missed, instead getting hold of her pack.

Thessaly jerked to a halt at an angle, held just barely upright by Arwen's grip on her bag. She righted herself quickly, getting steady and making a business of brushing herself off, like a cat cleaning itself after being caught doing something undignified.

"Thanks," she grunted, hoping nothing more would be made of it.

She wasn't back up to her full strength yet, however much she wished she were. The nap on the warm rock had done wonders, but she knew it would only go so far. She hated looking weak. She could just imagine what Ennis and Arwen were thinking now. They'd gone on some grand adventure though a demonic dreamscape and fought a daedric prince. The mighty Dragonborn sleeps through the lot of it, and comes out weaker on the other side. The thought bit deep. She grumbled indistinctly to herself as she trudged through the snow, trying to keep to the trail Ennis was forging ahead of them.

As they traveled, Thessaly made a point of checking her swords in their sheathes at her back. The sun was bright enough above them that she was fair certain she wouldn't have to worry about frost buildup, but fate had a funny way of sticking your steel when you most needed it, and despite her fatigue, Thessaly wouldn't be caught unawares.

She glanced over at Arwen, wondering what she wouldn't give to have her weapons on hand whenever she needed them, like the mage had with her magic. The Dragon shouts were well and good, but they wore her out fast. She couldn't use more than one at a time, and only in short bursts.

"Say," she said to her friend. "I know we're sorta on the move, but is there any kind of magic you can show me? I hear there's a spell to summon magic weapons. Do you know that one?"

"Run! Run! Get out now!"

Leto ran, following her partner as they mounted the dark stone steps of the temple, desperate to escape its confines before the Priests of Vaermina released the miasma and doomed them all. She didn't know where the others were, but couldn't spare a thought for them in her panicked mind. Tears flooded her vision. It was shameful of her to be afraid now, when her people needed her, but all she could think about was the heat in the air around her, and how far they were still from the cold, clear air outside.

"Leto, look out!"

She turned around just in time to see the Orc rushing at her, blade coming down as he roared. She shrieked and dove aside, just as her partner's blade came between them, catching the axe and holding it in the air. Not for the first time, Leto marveled at the strength Phoebe held in one arm.

"What are you waiting for?" Phoebe shrieked at her. "Go!"

For a breathless moment, Leto considered the sword at her side. She could take it out and help Phoebe fight back her foe. Together, they might be able to take him down. But then Phoebe leaped over her and swung hard at the Orc, bearing him back, and Leto saw the ferocity in those swings and knew that she would only get in the way. She scrambled up and made for the stairs, running until the clang of steel began to fade behind her.

She came around a corner and she could suddenly feel it - the cold of snow still falling outside. She filled her lungs and dove for the door, hauling it open and tumbling out into the blinding white. She raced around the fallen bodies of the giant spiders, their innards nothing but green stains on the snow, churned into gorey mush by the boots of the orc warriors, and put several yards of distance between herself and the temple door before turning to wait.

No one followed her. No angry orc with a blood-stained blade, nor dark priest with a handful of fire. And no Phoebe. No robed vigilant, tired from battle, to help to safety. No one.

Suddenly, there was a deep hiss and a cloud of unnatural color poured out of the open doorway. The miasma. The spell had been cast.

She sunk to her knees, heart pounding in her ears. What had she done? She had run off and left them. She had made it out alive, but at what cost?

She put her face in her hands, tears spilling hot onto her fingers. Phoebe and the others - they had been killed or worse, and Leto had done nothing to help them. Not that she could. She was worse than useless with a blade, and everyone had known it. They had shouted at her to run because that was all she was good for - getting out of the way.

Now here she was, away from the fight, and all alone. And soon, it would be dark.

“No trouble,” Arwen said simply. She shrugged and continued on behind Ennis, copying Thessaly’s lead and retrieving her bow from its hold. She inspected it for a few moments as if searching for imperfections in its ornate surface. With a bit of a smile on her face, Arwen held the bow by one of its limbs and began to strum its string.

“I can play the lute, look.” She hopped along sideways, kicking up snow and making nonsensical noises. After a moment, she stopped and turned herself to face the same direction as her friends, though with Ennis in front of her, she couldn’t resist. She properly held her bow, aimed it at Ennis, and pulled back on the string to mime shooting him, unable to restrain her laughter. “Target practice….” she murmured to herself. With a shake of her head, Arwen let her bow fall to her side. She was partially playing with it for the same reason Thessaly touched her own weapons- to prevent frost buildup and risking the string snapping.

When asked about magic, Arwen paused. Magic was one of her favorite things to talk about, but that particular question threw her off guard.

“I know one of those spells,” she muttered as if already suited to talk about something else. “I can summon a small dagger. I don’t like doing it, because it’s Daedric magic and it makes me feel poorly.” She shrugged and held her hands up, wiggling her fingers. “But if you’re interested in seeing, I can do it for you. I don't think most people can feel it the way I do. It's not so much that the weapons themselves are magic, and more that they're made of magic. The marks they leave behind, if someone lives through a blow from them, never really heal. You can't hand the weapon to anyone else. If it leaves my hand, it'll disappear. It just kind of fades through the other hand until it goes away." Arwen tugged a lock of hair out of her ponytail and twisted it in her fingers, looking thoughtful.

"I could teach you some destruction magic. Being able to throw lightning at people is a useful skill," Arwen offered, wiggling her fingers again. "Or I read that Oakflesh spell in that cavern. I could teach you that. It's supposed to make you something like impervious to blade wounds. I'm not sure how, and I've never performed it, but it seemed like a simple enough spell. I could teach that to you after doing it on you."

Thessaly had very nearly rethought the request after she'd asked it. How could she have thought attempting to learn more magic was a good thing? The higher the complexity of the spell, she'd gathered, the more magicka it took to cast, and her own pool was pitifully low. She barely had the capacity for a decent flame. And she wanted to learn more? From a teacher like Arwen?

She glanced back, and saw the look on Arwen's face. Like showing her was no big deal. Thessaly turned back to her path, sour twist in her mouth. It was unkind of her to think of Arwen that way, particularly when the mage was just trying to accommodate her request. But she couldn't help it. She'd always been frustrated at the fact she needed a teacher if she was to learn magic, all because she couldn't read the words of a spell book. It was just something else that made her weak.

She kicked a rock out of the snow, venting more energy than she'd meant to. The stone sailed through the air and narrowly missed hitting Ennis in the back. The bard shrank down and covered his head, as if expecting another one, and looked around for the source. Thessaly just stared back, a little surprised.

"What on earth was that for?" Ennis demanded.

Thessaly's face puckered. There was no call for that tone.

"It's not like I meant to!" she shouted back.

"Could have fooled me!"

Scowling now, Thessaly scanned the ground for another rock and kicked that at him too, just out of spite. Ennis watched as it landed several feet away from the intended target, fixing her with a curious look.

Thessaly threw up her hands and growled, then moved off the path and into the woods, seeming to want as much space between herself and the others as possible.

Having fallen silent with the rest of them, Arwen happily stomped along in the snow- that is, until Thessaly kicked that rock. She took a step backward asEnnis rounded on Thessaly, avoiding walking right into him.

As the two had the shortest bicker in the world, Arwen looked back and forth between them, eyes wide. She watched as Thessa stormed off into the trees, staring. "I don't know how to deal with people being upset at anyone other than me. Do I go after her?" Arwen fidgeted with her hair, biting her lip. "Would that be inappropriate?"

Ennis stared after Thessaly as she stormed off into the woods, consumed with disbelief. How? How was it that he constantly attracted their ire? He thought he'd done good - more than good! He'd done nothing all day but try to help, and in return he'd been the butt of several jokes and the target of several projectiles. And Arwen wanted his advice on social conduct?!

"I'm sorry, you're asking me?!" he blustered. "How in blazes am I supposed to know what to do? I don't even know why she attacked me in the first place! I mean, really! What is it going to take before either of you start treating me like a human being?"

Arwen rolled her eyes at first, but her expression quickly changed. She raised her eyebrows and a smile crossed her face.

"Like a human being?" she said, clearly in disbelief. "Look, if you weren't a human being, you'd be dead by now, because I don't let vicious animals live. And besides, I wanted to kill you- twice, in case you didn't remember- but Thessaly's curiosity and kindness left you live, both times." Arwen shrugged her shoulders and shook her head a little before she turned and walked into the forest in Thessaly's direction. She turned back after a moment of walking, however.

"Also, you're a filthy little sneak. You haven't been fully honest with either of us this entire time." She threw her arms out before placing them on her hips in outrage. "Don't think I don't know when you're lying, okay? You and I both know how to read people, but until you learn to do it for the better of someone else, we'll not want you around forever." Arwen huffed and crossed her arms, though she seemed satisfied at having given him a good talking-to.

It wasn't so much that Arwen was angry at him that prompted the telling-off. He hadn't really done anything to deserve it except be outraged at both of them, but that's how such confrontations usually went for her: justified outrage or anger, an anger-fueled rant, and parties going their separate ways.

Despite everything she'd said, Arwen still wasn't sure whether or not she should go after Thessaly. It seemed like a good idea, but at the same time, the elf seemed the type to desire alone time. Of course, should would consult with Ennis.

"So what do I do?" she asked, hands dropping to her sides. "What do you think would bring her back?"

It was oddly startling to hear the thinly-veiled threat of death from Arwen now. Ennis hadn't gotten one of them in a while, and he wondered if he hadn't needed a bit of a reminding that either one of these women could probably take his life if they so chose. It would behoove him, he knew, to tread more carefully.

It was hard, though, when he felt so put upon by the both of them. Sure, what Arwen said about Thessaly sparing his life was true, and he was grateful - more grateful than he thought either of them would ever understand. But why then, if she harbored him any good will, would she join Arwen in using him as 'target practice'? It was infuriating! All he wanted to do was help them, and Arwen had basically demonized him to his face.

Better than some have done, was the thought that suddenly calmed his building rage.

He blinked a moment, realization coming to him slowly. He had never kept company with other travelers who had done things like been merciful to him, or cared for him when he was ill, or asked him to be honest with them, or been honest enough with him to let him know what was wrong instead of simply casting him out, or worse. And he had more than earned that treatment over the time he had been with Arwen and Thessaly - stealing from them, attacking them (even if he hadn't planned on following through, they didn't know that, or probably wouldn't believe him if he said so), bringing danger into their lives. Arwen was right.

Ennis took a deep, steadying breath, and let it out in a weary sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said, forcing himself to look Arwen in the eye. "You're... you're right. I have a lot to make up for. But there's lots you don't.... I just want.... Ugh!"

He leaned back against his tree, thudding his head back in frustration and palming his face. How was he supposed to say this right? How could he let her know what he wanted without seeming selfish? Would she even hear him? He took another breath and tried again.

"I want to be more honest with you and Thessaly," he said. "I just... it's not a way I know how to be. It's never struck me as advantageous. There's just too much risk involved. If you don't think about what you tell people, they can learn things that will hurt you. Or hurt them." He looked up at her. "Think about how you felt when you saw the mask and what I was doing with it. I thought I was helping you. But all you saw was the face of something that had caused you pain - and might cause more." He looked away again, pinching his fingers together nervously. "I can't promise I won't use it again. Back there, I felt I had no choice. You two were in trouble. You might have died. I... didn't want that."

He fell silent for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. This wasn't what he wanted to talk about. He stood away from the tree, moving with a bit more of a jaunt in his step. He looked back up at Arwen and grinned lop-sided.

"Heh, if that's not honesty for you, I suppose that little outburst of mine counts, eh? Guess I've got a bit of a temper." The grin became a grimace. "It's just frustrating, you know? I want to believe that...." The words caught in his throat. What if she didn't like what he had to say? He had to try. It's what they wanted. "I want to believe that what we have here, you and me and Thessaly, means something to all of us. It means something to me. I've never had anyone who would fight for me like you two have - and few enough people for whom I'd want to do the same. Sometimes I think you both like me, at least a little, and then things like this happen and... I don't know what to think."

He felt tired. Like saying all of that had taken more out of him than he'd counted on. He found a rock and sat down on it, putting his face in his hands. He needed sleep. Or a drink. Or both.

"You should go after Thessaly," he said from between his fingers. "Ask her to tell you what upset her. It'll show you care and who knows? She might actually tell you."

Ennis’ frustration was more genuine than an excited dog, at least as Arwen could tell. It was sincere enough- but she still doubted him in the back of her mind. Despite her concerns, her expression fell as he spoke, turning from indignation to confusion and worry.

Arwen was still unsure of how to deal with the way he was spilling his heart out- the perfect example of river mouth if she’d ever seen one. It was like he really could not stop talking. She let him go on for as long as he needed. It felt good to actually listen to the guy, to learn more about the way he perceived their actions toward him, but she still wasn’t sure what to do with this information.

She thought she could call him a sensitive puppy and walk into the forest, but that would be rude and probably the most callous thing she’d ever done. No, that wouldn’t be appropriate.

The idea of actually speaking to the bard was...surprisingly alluring.

“I appreciate your apology?” Arwen started, highly befuddled. “Um…. You’re right, you do have a lot to make up for. You pulled my hair and you’ve been a liar. But you’ve done good things, too. You have to remember that trust doesn’t come back right away after pulling someone’s hair.” She held up a hand to make him wait, clicking her teeth, looking at his feet. “Thessaly and I can take care of ourselves. We don’t need shielding from you, or anyone. If we all went our separate ways, we’d be more concerned about you than ourselves. At least, in my opinion.” Maybe she was rambling. She couldn’t tell. Was it as much as Ennis had said? It somehow felt like more.

“Um…. I...know it’s hard to be something you just aren’t. I spent half my life being told to be a lady, you know? But you have to try harder. Instead of listening to that little voice that tells you we might use it all against you, you absolutely must learn to do the opposite, because neither of us wants to hurt you. We just...don’t. I don’t know how familiar you are with traveling in pairs and small groups, but you have to have trust in each other.” Arwen realized she’d barely been breathing while she spoke when she punctuated her sentence with a gasp. She wanted to get her thoughts out before they went away or morphed into something angry. Venom would do no good here, and she certainly had a deadly tongue.

“I don’t know if I said it, but thank you for saving me, and I’m sorry about the target practice thing.” Arwen made a strange face as she tugged at her ponytail, her face growing warm. “If something bothers you that much next time, please say something. That’s part of the whole honesty thing.” She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. She was saying too much, she knew it. She suddenly had river mouth, too. It just wouldn’t stop. “To me, this means something. It’s hard to get people to have faith in me as much as you guys do. If you had any less faith in me, I think, you wouldn’t have let us use you as an archery target, though I think it also has something to do with the fact that I often catch people in the eye with one shot.”

She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. Although she usually had no problems being open and honest about her feelings and desires, she found it hard with Ennis. What made her feel this way about him? Was it the fact that he had truly been one of the most dishonest people she’d ever met before he had vowed to turn him around? What if he’d only said that to get close to the mighty Dragonborn? It was clear he was more obsessed with her than Arwen ever was, and probably ever could be. She was more interested in good friendships.

"Look, sometimes people are moody. Thessaly…. She very clearly thinks we think she’s become some kind of lazy slug, or something. I’ll go talk to her. Don’t move. I don’t know this forest and if you keep moving this spell doesn’t work.” Arwen swung her arms to return to standing upright, having been supported by a tree halfway through her talk. She made to turn away from Ennis, but ended up spinning back around.

"Actually, maybe you should come with." Arwen lifted her shoulders in a shrug as if to say it could do no hard. "Show off your empathy a little, maybe?" She pointed her thumb over her shoulder, walking backwards into the trees. "Want to find her together?"

Ennis listened as carefully as he dared to what Arwen had to say, and though it gave him a lot to think about, spurred a thousand thoughts that made him want to shout or cry or panic or protest, he kept his mouth shut and let her have her say. Every time a thought came up, he would squash it down angrily. This wasn't about him or what he wanted. The more he focused on that, the less luck he seemed to have getting it. There were so many arguments he wanted to start, points he wanted to make, and questions he wanted to ask - he wanted to vent and to learn and he knew that trying one really wouldn't help with the other, so he decided the best choice he could make was to choose neither. He would listen, he would learn better what these women wanted from him. If he could keep them happy, maybe they would let him stay. Maybe they wouldn't betray him or cut him loose the way the others had.

Oh, who was he kidding? He had no say in the matter. If Arwen and Thessaly decided they didn't want him around any more, it was well within their power to get rid of him.

Oddly, this thought was more comforting than he'd expected. Truly, if they'd wished to be rid of him, they would have done it already? Asked him to leave, or abandoned him, or chased him off with fire and steel? And yet, they had not. Here was Arwen, explaining to him the odds he faced, and not telling him to simply shove off or get over it - she even seemed to want to be encouraging.

When she turned to go, he looked down at his boots. He'd replaced his rather worn boots with new leathers and furs. He could barely feel the snow beneath them. They were the boots of someone who could follow in the path of the Dragonborn and survive. He had no idea if the person wearing them lived up to their purpose, but he knew he was going to try anyway. All he had to do was find a way to get them to keep him around.

He looked up when Arwen made her suggestion, surprise plain on his face.

"You... you think that's a good idea?" He remembered the look on the elf's face as she'd stormed off, like he was the source of all her problems. "She did kind of try to hit me with a rock."

Arwen let out an extremely labored sigh and clapped a hand to her face, closing her eyes.

"Now, do you really, really think she tried to hit you with a rock in the first place, Ennis?" she said as if he were stupid. "Do you really think that? Why would she have wanted to hit you with a rock? You weren't doing anything. You were walking. She didn't want to hit you until you rounded on her, and that wouldn't have killed you." Arwen shook her head and looked up, apologetic. "Sorry. But all she did was kick a rock a little too hard. If she wanted to hit you with it, you being six feet away and all, she wouldn't have missed. She was telling the truth about it being an accident. Besides, even the second probably wasn't meant to hurt you. She was just frustrated. Her thought was interrupted. Just come with, okay? She didn't try to throw a rock at you the first time. She probably just wants you to apologize for rounding on her like you did and tell her you didn't mean it," she offered, trying to actually be helpful. "Just apologize and leave it at that."

She had never felt such melancholy. The loneliness that had invaded her heart was all-encompassing. It felt like some kind of incredible, dark weight had settled over her shoulders. The Bosmer buried her face in her knees and cried, the sobs wracking her body with shakes. She had done enough crying for a year, but it just wouldn't stop.

Everyone had left her. Her home was likely in ashes, or vandalized to the point of being uninhabitable. The shrine she prayed at daily- desecrated, no doubt. The only thing she had been able to save from the onslaught was her best friend, her Big Guy Malakai...but he was gone now, too. That dragon had snatched him up like a dried meat treat and flown off with him. She would never forget the way he cried, how loud and pained it sounded, before it stopped entirely. That silence marked the moment she had felt part of her soul shrivel up and wither away. It had actually been painful. The memory caused her heart to ache. She clutched her chest as she wailed into the fur of her knee guards, choking on her own breath.

Galuthel did not sleep that night. She had spent it staring into the fire, replaying the moment over and over in her head and wondering what she could have done differently. Nothing came to mind, of course, but that did not stop her from feeling like an abandoned beehive- empty and useless.

Come morning, the fire had gone out, and all that remained were earnestly glowing embers. She was cold, but was it worth it to put more wood on the fire? She was already half dead, she reasoned. No one else was around to enjoy it. Why bother? In the end, though, Galuthel sat up and listlessly stoked the fire until it crackled again to warm up. She might as well be warm and miserable.

Hannah was angry. Hannah was in pain.

She couldn't believe she had trusted that elf. What had she been thinking? Putting her life in the hands of some damn, dirty, gods-forsaken Necromancer? Looking back now, she couldn't believe how foolish she had been. She should have just killed the elf when she had the chance. What would Delphine say when she found out?

She tried to keep those thoughts to a minimum as she stomped purposefully through the woods, knowing her attention would be better put towards attempting to close the gaping wound in her side. It wasn't easy. Tracking the trail of a swift-moving wolf through these unfamiliar woods while attempting to cast a spell for which she had no talent was a tricky task. But as her unfortunate choice in companion had informed her when he'd slipped it on her finger, "If you cannot do this, you will die here and now."

He hadn't even sounded upset about it! Just told her in that cold, empty voice that she was going to die. Looked down at her with that hairless, expressionless face with those thick, obscuring spectacles hanging from those ridiculous ears, and couldn't even muster a frown of sympathy. Elves. Puh. Necromancers. Scum of Tamriel. How had she allowed herself to get mixed up in all of this in the first place?

An image of Delphine, her guardian and teacher, swam dutifully into her scattered mind. Of course. She had done this for her. The woman who could easily be called the closest thing she'd ever had to family. She'd wanted to do this for her.

Delphine would be so disappointed in her now.

"You're going the wrong way."

Hannah snapped back, out of her internal reverie, and returned to the woods. That dispassionate voice cut through her like hot steel. She desired nothing more in that moment than to feel the crunch of his spectacles beneath her gauntlet, but when she realized what he'd said, she saw that he was right. She'd lost sight of the wolf's tracks, and there was no other sign of the beast to be seen.

"DAMN!" she screeched, punching the nearest tree in frustration. Her wound stretched and a hot lance of pain went through her. She hissed, then launched into a new string of curses. "DAMN! DAMN!"

"Are you not finished healing?" the elf asked.

Hannah rounded on him, but saw that his attention was elsewhere. If he had been looking at her, maybe he would have seen his answer plain as day. She had bled straight through her clothing, and could see some of it dripping down onto her boots. She'd probably left quite the colorful trail. Unlike their quarry, who'd had no wounds to speak of when he'd raced off into the woods. Whatever healing Hannah might have expected for herself, the beast they chased had stolen from her. And now she had to muster up all the tracking skills Delphine had taught her in order to pick up that trail once more. And this elf had the nerve to press?

"No," she snarled, tasting bile. "I am NOT finished healing."

If I could just get this damn ring to work again.

"Perhaps you ought to before we continue," the elf suggested offhand. "A wound such as the one you took tends to slow one down."

"We cannot stop," she spat, still scanning the ground for the freshest tracks. She kept having to blink salt from her eyes, interrupting her search. "We will lose the beast."

It was no use. She couldn't find tracks anywhere. If only her head would stop spinning!

"You may have more luck healing your wounds if you concentrate."

"I am concentrating!"

"On the wolf," said the elf. "Not the spell."

"Ugh!" she cried finally. This was getting her nowhere.

Hannah picked the nearest fallen log and collapsed onto it. Sitting just pressed her armor into the wound and a fresh blossom of pain opened up in her side, but she was no stranger to pain. She grit her teeth and tried to remember what Delphine had told her about using enchanted items.

"It is just like drawing from your own majicka, deep within," she had told her young pupil. "Only instead of your own well, you draw from within the item. Drawing from enchanted weapons will be easy for you, Hannah. You have a warrior's heart, and the power of an enchanted blade will respond to your will. But tools of the mage, like the staff or wand, those will be more of a challenge. You must learn to think like a mage. Draw on that well of power gently, like an artist draws inspiration for a canvas."

Oh, Delphine, thought Hannah. If only you were here.

If Delphine were here she would be shocked and disappointed, Hannah was sure. To see her pupil in such a state, having embarked on the most foolish journey either of them could have ever concocted. And to have ruined this armor… Delphine's gift to her….

"Are you losing consciousness?"

Hannah's blood rushed to her head, heating her cheeks and clearing her thoughts once more.

"I am not passing out," she croaked. Her throat was dry. "I'm not some milksop to faint at the sight of blood."

"You might if you lose enough of it," the elf said as Hannah grabbed out her water skein and took a long drink.

He had the right of it, damn him. She had to get the hang of this now, or she was done for.

Think like a mage, she told herself. It responds to your will….

How had she done it earlier? She had been about to die. She had felt the icy breath of death upon her. But she had not wanted to go. Not now. Not in this way. She was a Blade, and she would choose her own death. This was not it.

Is that what you want from me? She mentally interrogated the small golden ring on her finger. To feel my will to live?

The ring did not respond.

"Augh!" she cried, thudding both fists down on the rotting wood.

"That does not look as though it is helping."

"It's your damn ring!" Hannah roared. "You make it work!"

"It is not a target-directed enchantment," said the elf. "It is only--"

"I KNOW WHAT IT IS."

She thought she saw him blink from behind the thick glass of his spectacles.

He can't help, that little sensible place inside told her. He said it before. "If you cannot do this, you will die here and now."

Or as soon as I bleed out.

The bleed wasn't so bad. She'd recovered before from worse. But she'd had time to rest, then. The longer she sat here, trying to fix herself with unfamiliar magic, the further away the beast got. And what did she think she was going to do once she found it? In her state, it would rip her apart.

She put her head in her hands.

"It's no use," she said. "The beast is gone and I can't fight it in my condition. Might as well--"

"The wolf is just reaching the foot of that distant crag, west by northwest of us."

Hannah looked up. The elf was looking off into the distance.

"What?"

"The wolf," he said. "He is still moving rather quickly, but it is not yet out of my sight."

Hannah frowned. She was surprised he could see anything through those bottle-thick spectacles. Perhaps they were enchanted?

"You can keep an eye on it while I try to get this poke in my ribs sorted?"

"He's a bit hard to miss."

Hannah had no idea what to say to that, but so long as there was hope to follow, she could lay that worry to rest.

"You might have mentioned earlier that you knew where it was," she grumbled as she closed her eyes.

"You didn't ask."

Hannah sighed, but tried to put her companion from her mind as she concentrated on the ring that was supposed to heal her.

"Apologize?" Ennis sputtered, bristling. "What have I done that needs apology for? If anyone needed to apologize, she--!"

He saw the look on Arwen's face and rethought where he was going with that one.

"Right. Well. Maybe an apology wouldn't hurt," he admitted, tamping down the little flame in his belly. "Might result in less rocks to the head than trying to ask for one, yeah? Lead on, sir archer."

---

Thessaly's storming had taken her quite a ways off the path. A little farther than she's strictly meant to go, but her temper had grabbed the reins and dragged, and even her sensible side could say nothing for it. Now, of course, as she labored to drag each foot from the snow, her sensible side was loud and clear, berating her for utter stupidity.

"Aw, give it a rest," she growled softly. "I know."

She needed to go back. Just the thought of it made her exhausted, though. Both the idea of walking all that way back and having to explain herself to the other two. Arwen's curiosity and Ennis' affronted look were not things she wanted to be dealing with right now. All she wanted was rest. A warm ale and a soft bed. A bath, too, if she could get it. Ah, what she wouldn't give for a bath.

She certainly wasn't in a bath now. Without realizing she'd done it, she was sitting hip-deep in the snow. Her clothing was slowly soaking. Her arse was so cold she could barely feel it.

So long as I'm down here....

She lifted a hand and conjured a small flame. She could do that at least. It wasn't anything impressive, like Arwen could do, but it was something. And she'd learned it all on her own, too. No help from anyone.

Perhaps this was what you got when you didn't get any help, she mused. Just a little thing. Maybe if she listened to Arwen, tried to learn something, she'd manage something more impressive, or at least useful. Learning things, though - it sounded hard. Like work. She hated work, and book work most of all. How were you supposed to learn things from books when you couldn't even read?

She let go of the flame with a bitter chuckle.

It was cold out, but the snow was surprisingly soft, and the tree at her back rough but supportive. Maybe she could just rest here for a minute in the quiet. That would be nice.