It had been three months since the dragonborn had seen Lydia. Three months had passed since the two had been caught in a blizzard on the way home from Windhelm after killing the great Jarl Ulfric. They were cold, battered, tired, and all too ready to be in front of a fire eating too many sweet rolls. It was a complete whiteout. The two women couldn't see but an arm's length in front of their faces. It was all too easy for a dragon to swoop down from overhead unexpectedly and take them by surprise. Of course, this was the dragonborn and her, so the initial shock was quickly overtaken by a determined valor. The fight was short, as Rowena had become pretty damned used to killing dragons since her first encounter with one a little over a year ago. Like all other fights with dragons she had been a part of, it ended with the strangest sensation of strong wind filling Rowena's lungs forcefully until she couldn't breathe, and the slow burning of the dragon's corpse until it was nothing but bone and an assortment of shed scales. When the dragon's soul was fully absorbed, Rowena was lightheaded. She curled forward, coughing and gasping for air. Usually it didn't take such a toll on her, but she hadn't slept in two days.
She gathered herself, though, and started collecting bone and scale to sell later. Belethor had quickly become the biggest dragon material seller in all of skyrim since Rowena had taken residence there. He bought it from her for a high price, and sold it for a much higher one. Many exotic travelers came to whiterun to buy dragon bones and scales for armor or souvenir, and it gave the city plenty of money to recover with after the stormcloak attack. It also gave a lot of traffic to the Bannered Mare, making poor Hulda both extremely wealthy and extremely exhausted. Rowena laughed, thinking about the exasperated middle aged woman's face the night that Farkas drank too much mead and let his beast form take over in the middle of the inn. Thank the gods that the companions had been the only ones there that night. Hulda wasn't even surprised, she just turned around and left before she could witness any damage to her business take place.
The dragon bones were getting heavy in Rowena's pack. She took her head out of the clouds, and shouted out for Lydia. But instead of a reluctant "I am sworn to carry your burdens," she was only answered by the sound of the wind whistling through the cracks of the mountains around her. She called out a second time with more urgency. Still no reply. Rowena started to panic. She looked out for a sign of her housecarl: a mop of black hair, her shining silver armour, anything. She saw nothing. Of course, the blizzard was still making everything fuzzy. It wasn't as bad as it had been before the dragon's attack, but it still kept everything in a white haze.
Rowena stayed around the area searching for her lost follower for about an hour with no avail. She had to keep a steady head. They were halfway to Whiterun by then. If she kept going now she could get back before the sun rose. It was no use staying any longer and freezing to death out here. Lydia was a strong nord woman, and she could survive in the cold. Rowena's (mostly) imperial blood didn't grant her that ability. She decided to continue on, go home, rest, and see if Lydia would make it home by morning.
The rest of her walk home was filled with thoughts of the battle with the dragon. Come to think of it, the last time she actually saw Lydia was right as the winged beast ambushed them. She was too consumed in fighting and killing the beast that she hadn't noticed the lack of Lydia's battle cries and storm of arrows accompanying her own. Did Lydia even fight at all? Was Rowena too distracted by the dragon to notice someone or something come and take Lydia? Did Lydia...desert her? No. She couldn't have. She wouldn't have. Rowena was her thane, and she was sworn to honor her. Wasn't she? Rowena always thought that it was a little weird and possibly even slave-like, but Lydia always seemed honest in her efforts to help her, and even enjoyed going adventuring with her. In truth, she was Rowena's best friend. Was it possible that she could have abandoned her?
No. It couldn't be that. Something probably happened while she had her back turned, and she would ask the companions to go help look for her once she got back to Whiterun. Rowena may have lost her lycanthropic abilities, but Aela would probably lend a helping hand… or snout. There were perks of being the harbinger of the companions.
Rowena could see the walls of Whiterun appearing in the distance. She was almost there. Her legs were tired, and her pack was heavy. Her back ached. It had been too long since she had been home.
In the three months that passed since that day, not once did Lydia appear. Every day Rowena came back home, she half expected to find Lydia eating sweet rolls in her bedroom or polishing her armor in front of the fire. She never was, though. The companions helped Rowena look a few times, but no one was able to track down where she had gone. In Skyrim, life was fleeting. It was a hard fact to face, but everyone faced it. Rowena, at this point, had basically given up all hope for ever finding Lydia, and was forced to believe that she was probably dead. But she still hoped. She also needed to find a new follower to help her on her many adventures. Even though she knew it wouldn't be the same without her best friend.