Chapter Two: The Wolf Cub Makes Some Friends
"That vas fahn!" chirped the strange little imperial beside him. Though she was not of the Legion like he was, she wore the armor of one. Armor that was already spattered with blood and dirt, even though she'd worn it for less than an hour now. Her unruly brown hair was tied back in a high ponytail, with messy bangs framing her angular, soot-smeared face. She was also grinning like a madman.
Hadvar was sure he'd never get used to hearing such a heavy Khajiit accent come from a human. He cocked an eyebrow, "You call nearly getting executed, then just narrowly escaping a dragon... fun?"
"Moony is still alive, yes?" she asked him, her grin widening even further. (Was that even possible?) "And she has all her limbs intact, and she is not grievously wounded and bleeding to death! Good enough for Moony."
He didn't really know what to say to that, so he decided it would be best if he said nothing at all. Lacking conversation or action to distract her, Moony began to fidget restlessly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, eyes wide and snapping from one flicker of movement to the next. She looked for all the world like an energetic kitten, waiting for something to pounce on. How in all the world did she still have any energy left after all that fighting? She looked barely winded!
Hadvar himself was wiped. He could really use a hot meal, a bed, and a nice cup of hot mead. Or five. The dragon was gone, flown away far over the Barrows, and the adrenaline that had numbed the pain and fatigue of fighting his way through the escaped Stormcloaks, spiders and a bear of all things, was ebbing away leaving him weary and feeling thoroughly whipped. Add all that on top of the fact he still was trying to wrap his head around the cold, hard truth that a beast of legend was the cause of that bedlam? Yes, some mead would be more than welcome right now.
Thankfully, he knew exactly where they were. The dragon had flown away over Bleak-Falls Barrow, which meant that they weren't far from Riverwood. His uncle lived there. It would be a bit unorthodox to show up out of the blue like this, but they also needed to bring word of the dragon attack - for all he knew, he and this strange Moony character were the only ones to make it out of that place alive...
"Riverwood's not far up ahead," he told his companion. As soon as he drew breath to speak, she snapped her head around to stare at him with rapt attention. It was almost unsettling. "My uncle runs the forge there, I'm sure they'd be more than happy to help us out. Food, a place to stay, that sort of thing."
Moony looked surprised that he'd even offered. "Moony does not wish to intrude..."
"Nonsense," said Hadvar firmly. "You saved my life. I doubt I would have made it out of there alive without your help! Please, it's the least I can do."
Moony thought Alvor and his family were very nice people. Alvor's wife Sigrid seemed to be a bit insecure, though, and kept bringing up the fact Alvor was a married man. Moony didn't really understand why this woman would do that - did she think Moony would forget? Perhaps Sigrid was insecure, which was something Moony didn't entirely understand. Sigrid was pretty for a human, in Moony's opinion. Perhaps it was just some sort of Nord thing? Maybe they felt the need to establish these kinds of things often, in case everyone suddenly forgot? What a strange thing to do! Nords were a very strange people, unlike the many Khajiit Moony grew up with.
Even though Alvor and Hadvar's family offered her a place to stay for the night, Moony knew that as much as she would enjoy a rest right now the adrenaline still pounding through her veins was reason enough to leave as soon as possible - she couldn't lose control in this place, couldn't ruin their lives like that, not after they showed her such a rare and wonderful display of kindness. So, with this weighing heavily in her mind, when Alvor asked her to take word to Whiterun, she lept at the chance.
Moony was not very fond of Whiterun, in fact she avoided the city wherever possible - something about the outskirts just screamed of the territory of more than one other beastblood - but the sun was still high in the sky, and Moony very much doubted she would need to be there long enough that she couldn't be far, far away by the time night fell.
It was never a good idea for a lone little wolf cub to linger long in another wolf's territory, especially if that wolf had a pack to back them up.
Even though it pained Moony to leave so soon, she knew she was saving everyone much more trouble in the long run. Now, to get to Whiterun. She just had one stop to make before she could leave; the local merchant's store, which was right across the street from Alvor's home.
The merchant - an imperial man - was kneeling in order to reorganize the things on the shelves beneath the counter. He heard her enter, though, and popped his head up for just long enough to say, "Ah, I'll be with you in a moment."
Moony waited awkwardly by the door as he hurriedly finished. The merchant mustn't have trusted her to not make off with his goods while he wasn't looking, which was both a mark of both the typical Imperial and anyone with a half-decent idea of how to be a successful shopkeep.
She tried her very best not to stare at the very large, very shiny claw made seemingly entirely of solid gold while she waited. Thankfully, the man didn't take long in his task, and was soon leaning over the claw with a pleasant smile. "So, what can I do you for," he asked.
Moony suddenly remembered what she was here for. "Oh, you have potions for sale, yes? Of the healing kind."
Moony had perhaps been expecting some surprise for her (perfectly normal, it was everyone else who was speaking weird) accent, but what she was not expecting was a sudden proclamation of, "Hey, you're Bjiir's friend, aren't you?"
"Er," she said diplomatically.
The shopkeeper didn't seem to be making an accusation, unlike most people who recognized her in some way from somewhere else would - in fact, the man's face was lit up with a grin. The joyous kind, not the "I've got you now, criminal swine" kind. "You're Moony Delune, right? Bjiir told me to keep an eye out for a Imperial that spoke like a Khajiit."
Moony blinked away her initial surprise. Bjiir. The name finally sunk in - like hard ice shoved down her gullet, making it hard to swallow or speak. There was only one person the Imperial could be talking about; Bjiir Goldmane. A name she had been very happily not hearing for three moons now - and how in Mundus he'd managed to find out she'd end up here at Riverwood was one question she both did and did not want to know the answer to. But the imperial was still waiting on an answer from her, so Moony mustered her will and managed to summon a small, if completely fake, smile. "Yes. Yes, this one is she."
It was apparently the answer he'd been looking for, as his grin just got brighter. "Excellent! He had something he wanted me to give you. Hang on a sec..." The merchant knelt in order to rummage through the shelves beneath his counter.
'Please not another contract, not another contract, anything but another contract.'
"Ah, here we go," he stated triumphantly, handing her a rather innocuous wood-and-iron lockbox wrapped in crude roughspun canvas and thin rope - or maybe just really thick twine?
Moony took it without letting the empty smile to leave her face, "This one thanks you."
"Ah, no problem," the man said, waving it off. He paused, thinking for a moment. "Say, you were here for potions, right? Just the basic healing ones?"
Moony had completely forgotten. Any mention of that coldblooded leech had a tendency to do that to her. "Yes! Yes, she did."
The storekeeper smiled, turning to grab about five basic healing potions from the shelf, as well as a stamina restorative for good measure - the man obviously had taken note of the dual steel swords on her hips.
Her eyes ogled, knowing for certain the going price for each was about two hundred septims each in a store without a direct supply line to a professional alchemist. "Moony does not have enough for this many," she exclaimed.
The man laughed. "Any friend of Bjiir is a friend of mine! These are on the house."
Moony couldn't believe it. If this was how well she would be treated every day she nearly got her head chopped off, perhaps she should finally show her face in Solitude again! "At least let Moony reimburse you a little," she almost pleaded.
He was having none of it, though. "It wouldn't be a gift, then, would it?"
"This one doesn't even know your name!"
He was thoughtful a moment. "Lucan Valerius."
Moony paused. So that was the imperial's name. She filed it away for later, just in case. "This one will not convince you, will she?" Moony said at last, finally accepting defeat. A Khajiit always knows when they are beat, after all, and Moony was no exception.
Lucan smiled brightly, as if he'd won. Which he kind of had. "Not likely," he said cheerfully.
Moony decided then that there must have been something in the water supply to make Skyrim such a very, very strange place.
Nota Auctoris: You know, Moony, you might just be onto something there... :P
Bjiir'll show up soon. Can anyone guess when? ;D