This time around, the scarf was actually looking usable. The plain white wool was soft where it hung from the needles, with only one or two tiny holes marring the consistency. As Vilkas had told her, each row was getting faster, and her fingers were beginning to move easily with the yarn.

Seeing her progress brought a smile to Vilkas' face, which in turn brought a smile to her own.

"You're doing beautifully!" he exclaimed as he examined the scarf, which was very nearly done. "If you continue at this rate, you'll be purling in no time."

Ria could feel the smile slide right off her face. "I thought I was learning to knit."

"Of course." He let out a low chuckle. "You are. Purl is just another stitch. It's the... the opposite of knit, if you will."

"How is there an opposite?" Her brain turned to mush as she tried to figure out what he meant. "Don't tell me I'll be unraveling the whole thing again."

"No, no!" he laughed. "Here, I'll show you."

His hands reached for his own needles, from which only a few rows hung off. "To knit, you push the needle upwards through the stitch." He demonstrated what he meant, a simple motion she was familiar with, before slipping the needle back out to its previous position. "To purl, you push the needle down." He flipped the pull yarn around to the other side of the needle before slipping the tip down through the front of the stitch. The yarn twirled around with a swift move of his hands. "Then, you push back up." The tip of the needle poked back through, tugging the stitch off the other needle in the process. "You see?"

It made enough sense, once he explained it. She had just begun to mimic his movements when she was stopped by his hands on hers. The moment he touched her, her head snapped up and her breath caught in her throat. Gods, she hoped he didn't notice.

"Here," he said, taking the needles from her hands and giving her his own. "I don't want you to lose your progress."

"What if I mess up yours?"

"I've only made three rows. I can pick up stitches again. Don't worry." His voice was gentle, reassuring her.

Ria looked at the needles in her hands. Over, under, over; front, back, front. Snug, but not taut. She pushed the needle through, carefully guiding it downwards, before wrapping the yarn around and pulling the needle back out again. "I did it!"

"So you did!" He looked at the stitch with pride before taking the needles back and continuing the row.

A question tugged at the corner of Ria's mind. "Vilkas," she began cautiously, "why do you like knitting?"

"I find it calming," he said softly as his fingers moved the yarn around in rapid movements. "As mercenaries, we spend much of our time destroying. It doesn't bother me, but all the same, it feels... nice, to be creating instead."

Ria nodded as she listened. "This coming from the man who claims to have killed one of every living thing in Skyrim."

He laughed quietly in response. "Fair point. But, there, you see? All the more reason for me to try to ground myself with a different activity. Something constructive. Death is everywhere in this province, and this brings warmth and protects life."

His last sentence struck a chord with her. She was going to finish this scarf it was the last thing she did.