Hello again. It is midnight where I'm at and this is the time for my most random ideas to spawn. This is likely one of them, but I'm going for it because hey, why not? I'm not going to describe the story here like I did the last one, and instead I'm going to just plunge in and allow questions to be asked later.

In case it needs to be said, this is the disclaimer. Skyrim and all its associated plots, quests, characters, etc., does not belong to me. That's Bethesda's stuff.

Where am I?

I am standing in a void, floating through darkness that feels almost tangible enough to touch, but when I reach out, groping with desperate hands, it's no more solid than a mirage. Words, images, thoughts almost seem to coast through this intangible space, and I reach out to grab them before they dart out of reach like insects.

One thing connects. Narika. I think it is my name. But I'm supposed to know that for sure. Aren't I?

Who am I?

There are flashes of thought that cannot connect; something has been shattered and I cannot recover quickly enough. I grasp and reach for the memories I feel slipping away, until I don't remember why I am reaching and grasping. Only through instinct do I continue to fight. I am a fighter. Aren't I? Is that a memory I have managed to keep? Or is that just, like I thought, instict?

Fear. I feel the need to duck my head and clench my teeth. But there is nothing here, there is nothing—no one—to fear in this empty world. There is a voice raging at me. I have displeased it. No longer do I know who it is that I have angered, but for a brief moment, I want to get up and scream for silence, for some peace and quiet.

And then, I have gotten my wish. I am not in the void where I feel as though I have lost something important, something crucial. I am...somewhere cold.

"Ysmir's beard! That woman...she just...she came out of nowhere!"

"Is she alive?"

"She's breathing, but...ma'am, what should we do with her?"

"Throw her in the cart with the rest. We can question her if she wakes up before we reach Helgen."

"And if she doesn't?"

It is a particularly cool night in the Pine Forest. An indigo aurora streaks the starry sky like shimmering ribbons across a sheet of black velvet. A slight breeze makes branches on evergreen trees creak and groan slightly; bushes rustle in response, creating a nighttime duet that Alarael Bluestone has heard for many years now.

Tonight, however, she isn't stopping to listen.

Rael was never worried about anything: either things would work out like they were supposed to, they could be made to work out, or they couldn't. There was always a solution and nothing was too out-of-bounds for her to consider. There was no solution, however, for Narika vanishing without a trace.

Living as a survivor all her life, Rael had learned how to track like a master out of sheer necessity. She'd had to hunt and kill her own game from the time she was seven years old, and she was almost legendary in the underworld of bandit clans. Notorious was likely a better word for it. It was once said she could track a man across a province, predict where he was going to go, and beat him to his destination. There was no one she couldn't find, no piece of information she couldn't seek out or find the source of.

Now, though, Alarael Bluestone was worried, and she was completely, utterly lost.

Narika is missing. She never just vanishes. She leaves hints for me to follow her if she doesn't feel like waiting for me, but she never disappears. I've never not been able to find her, and suddenly I'm deaf and blind as a newborn. I think that is the scariest thing of all.

Rael forced herself to take a deep breath. Narika would either be found or she would not, though things would end much better for Rael if Narika was found. With a slight exhale to attempt calming her nerves, Rael set off through the trees at a stiff, tense pace.

She wore a set of old and battered light Imperial armor with a brown leather hood that resembled one worn by the members of the Thieves Guild. Her skin color almost seemed to blend with the armor color in a certain light, but in daylight, it was clearly a light bronze. Raven-black hair that she kept short was tucked behind her pointed, perceptive ears, and her golden-brown eyes were darting back and forth, subconsciously scanning for threats. A single scar trailed from her left eye down her cheek, and she occasionally reached up to brush it with light fingertips, almost as though ensuring it was still there.

Contrary to her very simple armor style, Rael's bow was elven-made, along with a quiver of arrows made of the same materials. She forged and improved all her weapons herself, a necessary skill for someone without a paying line of work or a steady flow of gold to keep her sustained. Both were always honed to near-perfection after several years of mediocre smithing skill.

Boots crunching the litter of pine needles and brush, Rael emerged onto the road and glanced up and down. It seemed too much to hope for that she might simply spot Narika here and the both of them could continue traveling like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Rael's luck had never been so favorable, and she was unsurprised by the disappointing outcome. Shoulders slouched, Rael shouldered her bow a bit more securely and set off down the road headed north. Hopefully she would reach the lake before the sun rose and she could leave a message at Narika's home.

Crickets chirped and jumped frantically away from Rael's feet as she scattered them. Rael focused on reviewing everything she could remember Narika saying over the past few days, wondering if she'd missed some obscure plan Narika had divulged to her without knowing it. No, no, she would have certainly noticed something like that.

Rael was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of wagon wheels rolling across the cobblestone road, and she quickly stepped out of the way, ensuring she remained as unobtrusive as possible. The one cart she'd heard turned into two, and she cast a quick glance back at the second cart and noted that they were Stormcloak prisoners, likely being taken to Helgen for execution. Rael was about to turn around and continue walking when she saw the last prisoner: vibrant red hair, lightly tanned skin, long scar on her right arm, wearing a ragged tunic instead of her preferred steel armor...

Narika!

She appeared to be asleep, though, or unconscious. Rael quickly melted into the shadows beside the road and laid a hand on her bow. She couldn't rescue Narika now, not while she would likely be disoriented and while there were so many guards. Her only attribute in this situation, and Narika's only hope, was stealth. She would have to tail the caravan of prisoners discreetly to their destination. Considering how far they were, and the slow speed at which they were traveling, Rael would have to execute this very carefully. For her best friend, though, Rael could pull it off.

"Just hold on, Nari." Rael whispered as she ducked down behind a series of brushy plants and crept a safe distance behind the wagons. "Just hold on."