Scrambling to his feet, Derkeethus felt his heart swell in his throat. The mellow dripping of cave walls was torn with a grinding, scraping noise; his breath became shallow with fear. He hadn't heard that sound since he'd been carried down in ropes, and if this was Falmer coming to begin whatever he had been captured for, Darkeethus didn't think he'd enjoy it. The unmistakable shriek of his captors sent him sloshing through the water, straining to hear the slapping of flat feet descending to meet him.

He heard nothing.

Eye ridges furrowing, he crept closer. Listening. Approaching the stairs with his claws ready, feeling vulnerable and stupid, he struggled to keep his breathing quiet.

There was nothing.

He began the ascent, and in a rush grey eyes met his and it became a figure crouched in the shadows.

"You- you remind me of Shadowscales, from the old stories." It was out in a rush, a breath tumbling from him in a heap of relief, body unwinding with his tongue.

And his rescuer grinned behind purple warpaint.

0o0o0

"Here you are; Darkwater Crossing," she gestured over the entire town with one sweep of her arm. "Safe and sound."

"I don't… I don't know how to thank you," Derkeethus said earnestly. This woman had literally saved his life, saved him from torture or experiments or whatever other nasty things he couldn't bring himself to imagine just then; rescued him. She had single handedly executed an entire nest of Falmer to rescue him, and he had never laid eyes on her before in his life.

What do you say to a person like that?

"Wait!" It was loudler than he had meant, reaching out as she began her departure.

She turned with eyebrows raised, and he really looked at her. Obviously an honest to gods full-blood she-orc. Mage's robes, a pack. A bow and arrow. Tired eyes. What did she do for a living?

"Won't... You, saved me. I owe you. I owe you my life. Won't you let me, do something?"

"'Do something'?" She echoed. Gods, her voice was low.

He held up his hands, gesturing vaguely, feeling at a loss. "Food? Shelter? …A reward?"

She smirked then. "Is that what your life is worth?"

That drew him up short.

They stared at each other, for a long while.

"Take me with you."

"What?"

It was tumbling from him before he even though of it. "Take- take me with you. Let me help you."

"I'm sorry?"

"I want to help you." It was gaining momentum now, and he was shocked and excited and speaking faster. "I owe you everything. Let me give it to you. Take me with you."

"You don't know what you're asking."

"You lead, I'll follow."

"It's not some pleasant camping trip- you, you don't even know- it's not what you think it is."

"What, adventuring?" He was smiling broadly, becoming determined.

"This is a very serious request! It's dangerous and dark and morally ambiguous." She drew herself up and he held his ground.

"I won't be a hindrance- I helped you kill those Falmer, didn't I?"

The orc was silent.

"Let me help you," he repeated, and her eyes slid from his face. She glanced him over, and if he didn't know better he'd say she was sizing him up.

A breath. Eyes snapped back to his.

"Very well."

0o0o0

He may have needed rescuing, but at least he felt helpful dressing game.

The rabbit had put up a good dash; it smelled him first, took off and it had taken three tries before he finally hit the poor beast. Hunting, he knew. He could hunt and trap and fish well, having learned from his mother years ago. An Argonian's diet was meat-centric, after all.

In the present, summer rain poured down in thick sheets outside their little cave. Watching his companion- Rook Blah something awful- strike sparks from her flint to damp kindling, Derkeethus asked why she didn't just magic them a fire.

"The weakness of a Mage, is growing habits of dependence," she muttered in her low, low voice. She did not look at him, eyes never straying from her work.

Derkeethus thought that needlessly intense, but then again, that was a stereotype of orcs.

The flame caught, orange blooming hot from the kindling and sending jagged black shadows across her face.

Very… intense.

"Are you done?"

"Hm?" He blinked.

"The rabbit."

"Ah! Yes." He brought the cleaned kill to her, extending it a bit awkwardly. "How do you like your dinner?"

She averted her eyes from the meat, thick lips curling unpleasantly. "Without a head, please." Her tone was tighter than before, and he glanced at the meat in confusion.

She shifted. "I don't… I prefer working with meat when I cannot see its face."

His eyes widened at that, turning to the little furry face. "I thought…"

She lifted an eyebrow, cocking her head expectantly.

He looked at her again.

"…wrong, then. I'll quarter it."

She grinned appreciatively, showing off thick and jagged teeth spilling from between those savage tusks. "Would a rosemary and sage rub be alright with you?" She asked.

Perhaps not as intense as he would have thought.