The dragon stood over the girl, almost taunting her. The Khajiit woman scrambled up, and ran, Alduin preparing to let out a might fire blast, that would surely kill her. The dragon braced himself, brought back his neck, and began to shoot fire from it's very mouth.
The girl hid behind a shrine of Talos, that wasn't far way, the fire ruining all its gifts, and the statue. She breathed heavily, staying as still as a sleeping bat. Alduin prepared for another roar of fire, but Ferin struck it's leg with his steel sword, piercing it's thick skin.
The dragon spun around, slamming Ferin with its tail, launching Ferin into a tree. On impact, Ferin was knocked unconscious, his armor ruined. Jorer, in a fit of rage ran to the beast, slashing at its neck, but, the sword simply bounced off of its thick skin.
"What!?" Jorer tried to yank the sword from the scales, but he eventually gave up, and ran to Tjorborn. "Tjorborn, ready your sword-" Jorer was engulfed by flames from the dragon, Tjorborn now running to the Caravan.
Sir Gerald was already in the caravan, and was franticly trying to find out a safe way to leave the caravan without being burned alive by Alduin. Tjorborn approached the door, and opened it quickly.
"Sir Gerald, run to Wind Helm, it's the closest city, I'll catch up!" Tjorborn said to Sir Gerald, pulling him out of the caravan. "No, Solitude would be safer! Meet with me there!" Sir Gerald stubbornly said, reaching for the other door.
As soon as Sir Gerald opened the door, he was engulfed in flames, and dead. Tjorborn began to run, but saw the girl behind the pillar. He decided to get her to safety too, and ran up to the ruined shrine where she stood.
"Thief, we must leave! Now!" Tjorborn demanded, pulling her by her arm. She did not compete with Tjorborn to be set free of his grip, because she knew she'd be safer with a warrior that knows the land, than by herself.
So, they began to run in the direction of the Wind Helm, but Alduin spotted them with ease. Alduin prepared to let out another burst of flames, and surely did. They just made it behind a small hut, where the fire hit the hut, protecting them.
Alduin lost them, and flew off into the distance, directly into the direction of Falkreath. "He's… gone…" Tjorborn said, breathing heavily and regaining his breath. "Into the hut. Now." The woman spat, and pulled Tjorborn to the other side of the hut, where the entrance was.
"Holy…" the woman said, looking at the front of the hut, all charred and completely destroyed. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about a locked door." Tjorborn stated, pointing at the knocked down, broken door.
They entered the hut with caution, and soon discovered it was empty. The hut was obviously a get-away home, having features only a noble could afford. It was filled with expensive animal heads, giving the sense that the person who owned the hut was a hunter, or was a rich noble that just liked collecting expensive animal trophies.
"Hm. I'd vouch that a hunter lived here." Tjorborn stated, staring at all the animal heads. "I think it was a noble man's hut. These heads have a pretty price on them." The woman said, looking around. "Well, thief, I saved you from a dragon, so could you at least tell me your name? I'm Tjorborn, by the way." Asked Tjorborn, curiosly.
"I'm Ja'liir. One of the best thieves in Tamriel. Without a doubt." Ja'liir boldy stated, obviously bragging. "Ok then… well, I'm Tjorborn, a simple caravan guard, as you probably know by now." Tjornorn said, obviously referencing how Ja'liir stole from the caravan he was guarding.
"Well, Ja'liir is tired now. Ja'liir will sleep in the bedroom. You will sleep here, on the floor. Make the best of it." Ja'liir spoke in third person, which most Khajiit do, and walked out of the living room to make her way into the bedroom.
Tjorborn shrugged his shoulders, and sat himself on a chair, instead of the floor, as Ja'liir. Tjorborn was asleep, as well as Ja'liir. Tjorborn had the nightmares he's had since he was a child, the day his mother died.
The dream always starts with Tjorborn as a child, in a buring village, he always runs out of his burning house, and sees his mother in the burning stables. Every time, he runs over to her, his father fighting of bandits, but, by the time Tjorborn gets to his mother, a large piece of burning wood drops on his arm, and the dream ends.
Tjorborn woke up. He looked at his right arm, a large burn scar could be seen, whether he was wearing sleeves, or not, because it ran all the way up to his palm. That scar has reminded him of that almost every day. And he'll never forget that day.