Finishing the camp site was easy enough; the tent was secure against the wind, a fair distance from the edge of the cliff. It lay closest to the path, the far side against the mountain too cluttered with thin brush and rock to make a fine shelter. The wind was generous; billowing soft tufts of the flaky powder free from the stone and earth.

Bastrii began to fiddle with the flint and tender once again, wood ready to light. She held the bundle of fine wood shavings out of the wind, sparking the back side of her skinning knife against it.

Midna watched, amused as her friend cursed and fumbled with the task.

"I SWEAR this NEVER happens." Bastrii said, the 'survival expert' growling in frustration as the sparks just can't seem to land in the flammable material. "It's the wind, or I'm crazy."

Midna raised her right hand, whispering the word to herself. "Ignis aereo."

The Bosmer tumbled out of the way as an endless burst of fire poured from the Imp's free hand, the flames dancing over the wood before they sparked and took to life. Heat soon followed, the fire crackling in the twilight sky.

"You could warn me next time!" Bastrii yelped, brushing fallen snow off of her armor. Braehoof watched the fire curiously, seeing it dance and flick before him.

"Hot?" He asked, stepping closer to the flame. The warmth tickled his fur, and he gave a sigh. "Yes. Hot. It is good. Warm."

"It's going to be warmer in the tent, Braehoof. I left room for you in the back. The fire will heat up the inside tonight, so we don't have to sit around it in the cold."

Braehoof nodded, but continued to stare. He mumbled to himself for a while, shaking his barren back to dislodge any pesky snow. Midna turned to the saddlebags, gently setting her helmet to the side as she withdrew the small cooking pot. She handed it to Bastrii, the Elf setting it up deftly over the fire.

"So…" Bastrii began, tying a knot in the leather strip. "Why do you keep that helmet? It probably weighs a ton, and it doesn't seem like a good choice for armor."

The Imp held the stone mask in her hands, sitting down by the fire side. "Let's just say it's not protecting me, so much as I'm protecting it."

"Is it some kind of… heirloom?"

"No no, more like… A source of power." She said thoughtfully. She ran her fingers over the stone face, frowning as a piece of the rock came off. It chipped between her fingers, from just a touch.

"So it's like a soul gem, then." Bastrii withdrew one of the jewels from her bag, resting it in her palm. "Filled with power, at a great cost."

"Soul Gem? What are those?" She asked, stretching her hand out to take it. Bastrii gave it willingly, the Twili balancing it in her fingers.

"It's a crystal that houses the life essence of a dead enemy. Or… as the name implies, its soul. Most creatures have a white soul – those of pure, or simple minds that do not stray into the life ordeals of Men and Mer. Animals are a fine example of this. People – Argonians, Bretons, Khajiits, Bosmer, Altmer, Imperials and so forth – house black souls, and can't be captured by ordinary gems."

Midna gulped, holding the gem up to the coming night sky. "So this holds the very life of a fallen creature? Its essence, its memory, everything its done?"

"Yes. That would be a petty gem. You can use it to power enchantments, but it's not useful for creating them. It's much too small to be effective."

Midna returned the gem to Bastrii, as the Bosmer looked over the crown in her lap.

"Do you mind if I take a look?" She asked, nodding towards the stone helm.

Midna reflexively tucked the object closer to her torso, as if protecting it from her words. But, realizing who she's with, she timidly placed the item in Bastrii's open hand.

"Be very careful. Don't put it on, it could hurt you. And please… don't break it or lose it." She said. She didn't let go for a second, driving the point home with her eyes. Midna seemed desperate for her to follow her plea.

Bastrii nodded, gently bringing the relic towards her.

She held it aloft in her fingers, looking at its ornate design against the backdrop of the fire. She could feel… something within, a power that clung to the very surface of the helm. It was nothing like the tingling touch of a soul gem – this felt absolutely malevolent, as if contained behind a thin glass.

And a thought reached into her head, taunting her. Why not put it on? Wear it around. Feel that… power slipping inside. Engraving into your fingers, willing the world under your control.

Her thoughts were cut short as Braehoof pressed and nuzzled against her face, waking her up from her stupor. She felt the panic coursing through his veins.

She returned the helmet to her companion, who quickly brought it back into the tent – and out of mind.

"Don't do that." Braehoof said, much to Bastrii's confusion.

"Do… what?"

"Don't hide… your antlers." He said, stomping a cloven hoof. His words came with a little more vigor, the confidence in his voice showing that his speech was improving.

"…I understand. I promise Braehoof, I wont put on the helmet." Bastrii nodded to her friend, running a hand over his snout. He gave a tiny bugle, nuzzling in.

"Family." He said, closing his eyes.

"Are you two done having your moment?" Midna asked, yawning. "I thought you were going to work on gear tonight? It's already freezing out here, I'm sure Mr. Giant Horns would like to not freeze to death later on." She said, tapping her boot on the ground impatiently. "If you don't recall, that's why we camped early."

Bastrii slowly made it to her feet with a sigh, "I guess you've got a point. Alright big bull, let's get you measured up. After I start dinner. Alright?"

Braehoof flicked his antlers, happy for the attention. Turning to their rations, she withdrew the large, wrapped canteen that Ralof had left in her pack, all those days ago. She had filled it up at the Darkwater River, and it sloshed merrily. She brought over to the piping hot pot, setting it to the side. She gathered her other ingredients, drawing out a pound of the smoked venison (which she made extra careful to hide from Braehoof's curious eyes, just in case he questioned it), a few potatoes, garlic, and a whole onion from Klimmek's bag.

She tossed the meat in first, letting it sizzle on the bottom for a minute on each side while she roughly chopped up the potatoes. Excess oil ran off into the bottom of the pot, and she withdrew the meat to rest on a clean plate. In the mean time, she worked on the other ingredients.

Her skinning knife worked tirelessly on the onion and garlic, adding the raw ingredients to the bottom of the bubbling fat. A few quick stirs seared the veggies, a splash of water joining the mixture. Slicing the meat into chunks, she added it in with a heavy dose of salt from her seasoning bags.

The majority of the cooking done, she cleaned her tools and turned to the extra pelts. She had used a few plates to cover the bottom of the tent, and she had four mountain goat furs left. Looking him over, she decided that the best place to cover was his torso, as it housed the vital organs.

"Alright Brae, let's get you a nice winter jacket." She smiled, reaching up with the first pelt. He questioned the word.

"Jacket?"

"Yep! A jacket. It will help keep you warm, though I don't know if it will be comfortable for you to wear all the time.

She held the treated fur to his torso, wrapping it around his neck like a large bib. The Elk fidgeted as she withdrew the fur, Bastrii ducking under him.

He stomped his cloven hooves a bit, giving a very gentle bugle.

"Oh hush you big baby. I'm just going to measure your torso." She slid the pelt up, pressing it tight to his belly. He stepped forward, nearly bumping Bastrii with his… unmentionables.

"I am NOT measuring that, Brae. Calm down!"

Midna nearly fell over laughing, the Elk turning his head away to avoid eye contact. He stomped his hoof in agitation, unable to speak what he felt.

After a moment, the word came to him.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, Braehoof. Just be careful where you point your uh… 'sword' in the future." Bastrii blushed, as Midna wiped away tears.

"Oh for crying out loud, at this rate, you might as well marry him! He's all ready to go! Ha!" Midna slammed her fist into the stone, heaving from the thought.

"Marry?" Braehoof smiled. He knew that word!

"I'm not marrying an Elk, Midna." Bastrii glared at the Imp, tossing the pelt over his back. The Elk frowned.

"Aw..." He cried, head hanging low. But he would love to marry the pretty two-leg lady! She was very nice. At the very least, she would sire his calves, right?

Wait… could she do that? The Elk felt sadness eating away at him. How would she be a part of his family if she couldn't have his calves? Does she understood what he meant by family? Maybe he should explain it to her again. Later, when the small two-leg wasn't listening. When he understood the Bosmer's language just a bit more.

Bastrii sat down on the nearby stone, her fingers working tirelessly to stitch the clothing together. It reminded her of when she pieced together Midna's current clothes. Her eyes flicked to the garments; they looked… worn. There were a few stains across the front, though the wearer didn't seemed bothered by it. In fact, from the looks of things, Midna hadn't been taking care of herself lately.

Bastrii decided the group would have to stop by the hot springs to the north east eventually, so they could all wash up. While Bosmer didn't naturally stink, the sweat did make her armor stick to her body more than she liked.

Several minutes passed, she stood up to fit the pelt. Bastrii belted it across his neck, the Elk taking this chance to give her a soft, caring nuzzle.

"It's okay boy. I forgive you. Now, let me work." She smiled, scratching him behind the ears. They flicked with joy, as the protection settled nicely across his front. "That will help break the wind. Now, to keep you warm..."

With three pelts left, she managed to hurriedly bind a jacket for his torso. It ran down his back, ending at his tail – several holes at the edges showing the make shift bone buttons.

She was happy she kept those old antlers – they were perfect for this kind of work.

With the potatoes soft, she tossed a hearty helping of flour into the pot, stirring it in graciously. Minutes passed, the stew thickening into a wonderfully simple concoction.

Midna found her bowl, hovering in front of the fire impatiently. Eager for another meal. Bastrii ladled her a serving, the Imp sticking her spoon in before shoving a helping into her mouth.

"Ow! Hot hot hot!" She shouted, gasping billowing wafts of steam.

"No! Really? I thought that the fire was going to cool it down, Midna." She chuckled to herself. "Can you wait five minutes, or will you die before then?"

"Of course I'll die! We haven't eaten all day, and I'm ravenous!" Midna whined, blowing on the next spoonful impatiently. "You should have let me dig around the bags for something to eat at noon."

"If I did, we wouldn't have any bread to go with our stew. Speaking of which..." She withdrew a loaf, cutting two large slices from the hunk. Midna snatched her portion up, biting into it with a growl.

Braehoof nuzzled at her shoulder. "Food?"

"Yes, yes, here – give me a second. I'll set up your feed bag."

She raised the pot from the flames, unloading a heavy linen bag from the cart. The Bosmer set it down, unrolling the top to expose the horse feed within. The Elk dove into his dinner, chewing happily.

"Finally..." She whispered to herself, able to tend to her own needs. She filled her bowl with a few ladles, plopping down next to Braehoof. She even managed to give him a small bucket of water, too, much to his satisfaction.

Funnily enough, this somewhat reminded her of the day she met Midna. Warm stew by a fire. It brought back memories, though Rolf's cooking was much better than hers. Probably because he was an Alchemist, and had a thousand more ingredients than she did.

Midna finished her bowl, using her slice of bread to sop up the remaining droplets of stew. She eyed the pot for a moment, cautiously reaching a gloved hand for the ladle.

Crack! Bastrii's utensil slapped the back of her glove hard, the Imp withdrawing it with a scowl.

"Don't touch breakfast. We still have a long way to go, and our rations has to last us the way down, too." She eyed the Imp, who shot daggers back at her.

There was a stony silence between the two, as they fought through the use of determined glares.

"Yep, if I were queen, your head would be the first to roll." Midna smiled, stretching. "I'd serve it up on a platter with lots of those potatoes, and I'd stuff your mouth with the beans that are green."

"Long beans."

"The nasty ones, yes. That taste like dirt. Fitting." She smirked, while the Bosmer slurped her stew.

"I'd honestly like to see you try. I came back from the dead once, do you really want me haunting you over a meal?"

"Well, I wouldn't be able to hear you over all of the stew eating I would be doing, so I don't see the problem." She giggled, drawing a smile from her companion. "But it's late anyway. I think it's time for me to head to bed."

She gave a yawn, standing up. For the first time in ages, she actually used her legs to walk. Midna took her bedroll from the underside of Bastrii's backpack, rolling it out on the warm pelts on the floor – just out of sight of Bastrii and her companion.

"C'mon buddy, you too. Let's all get some rest tonight." She scratched behind Brae's ears, packing up the bag of grain and returning it to the cart. "You'll be sleeping with us tonight. Just keep an ear out for any trouble – though there isn't much that would attack us on the side of a mountain."

Braehoof smiled again, pressing his snout to his rider's chin. "Yes."

She entered the tent, letting Braehoof clop inside after her. The fire had kept it cozy in the large chamber. She fiddled with the flap at the entrance, lowering it until it rested just high enough for the heat of the flame to fill the room.

In the dim light of the embers, she quickly unrolled her bedroll and stripped her hauberk and chain, leaving her chest covered with a simple strip over the front. She left her boots at the end of her blankets, her dagger resting within short reach of her hand if she needed it.

Braehoof laid right next to her bedroll, his eyes trained on her as she slipped beneath the furry sheets. He wanted to say something about her comment from before, but he felt like the words just weren't there yet.

Bastrii closed her eyes, curling up into a bundle beneath the blankets. He scooted closer, until his chest was resting against her back – sharing his warmth with his family.

The words clicked into his head. "Good night." He said, nuzzling against her neck. Bastrii mumbled her thanks, before slipping off into dreamland.

And just like that, Braehoof was alone. He gazed down at his companion, wanting to just hold her. But his hooves were too clunky to make the effort.

"It's the magic." He thought to himself, his mind growing less hazy by the hour. "Do I really want to have mind of man, but… body of Elk?"

He could leave. He could leave and return to the wilds – Bastrii would be saddened, but she would understand. Things like this aren't meant to be. His mind would grow hazy, dull, and the instincts of the wild would slowly come back to him. He wouldn't be able to speak again. He would be dumb prey, fighting the elements alone.

And for what? His mother was killed by wolves. He wasn't the alpha of his herd, the one he was surely an outcast from. He never found love there.

He reached inside of him, feeling the magic coursing through his veins. How deeply rooted it was to his soul, how it let him see the knowledge the Elf had. It's why he could understand her, the reason he could speak. How words became clear to him. He could ask the connection between the two, and it would give him an honest answer.

And he asked it. What should he do?

The word came to his mind after a minute, like all the knowledge has – and it said one word. "Pray."

So he did. He bowed his head, and he prayed to Y'ffre for guidance. Should he give up his life in the wilds, and stay with the young elf? Even if it meant he would never have a family? Y'ffre gave him his shape, when he shaped nature to be – could he shape hearts as well?

No response.

He closed his eyes, resting his head on a nearby pillow. No response… for some reason, he didn't expect one. But it still hurt, none-the-less.

And when he opened his eyes again, dawn was breaking on the far horizon. Did he really sleep? It didn't feel like he did, though the sun's rays clearly proved otherwise.

He brought his head up, his mind feeling clear. "Bastrii, it's time to wake up." He said. For the first time, the words came naturally to him. Though he hardly took notice; his mind was still wandering from the conflicting thoughts.

Her eyes shot open, looking up to the Elk in shock. "Huh? Oh. Good morning Braehoof," She yawned, stirring under the sheets. "You sound different."

"I feel different." He flicked his ears. It was true; every day, he felt different than the last. More… insightful. Intelligent. "The sun has broke the horizon. It's time the herd moves."

"Uh…" Bastrii looked up to him, dumbfounded. When did he get a dictionary?

The Elf slowly made it to her feet, stretching the sleep from her bones. The Elk watched his… companion, set to work dressing herself. He used an antler to prop up her gambeson, the Elf flinching at his aid.

"Braehoof?" She asked, adjusting her mail jack. Her gaze never left his.

"Yes, Bastrii? Is something wrong?"

She didn't respond, only stare at him. Just the other day, he could hardly form a single sentence without thinking on it. Now? He was talking as if it was natural. And it really wasn't – it was unnerving to the woman. She looked into his eyes, seeing the intelligent pools searching her own.

By now, the magic had most definitely become near irreversible. She had no idea what this could possibly mean to her, in the long run – but it was unsettling to know that she gave sentience to him, and that he may never be a free spirit again.

"I wanted to ask you something, last night..." Braehoof said, in the awkward silence that followed. "I couldn't think of the words. They're still hard to… come up with, but I want to know."

"Okay. I'm listening." Bastrii said. She kept her distance, watching his mouth move in the fluid motion of speech. Before, his lips only parted and the words came out. Now? It actually looked like the Elk was talking.

"When I said 'family', you… you knew what I meant, right?" He said. Bastrii took note that his face couldn't wear many expressions, but his eyes could. And they seemed to gleam with hope.

"Well, yes. Like brother and sister. A herd. Companions. A group – something you didn't have with your… clan, when you decided to stay with me. Right?"

He frowned. A new emotion took his mind, one he hadn't experienced before. He felt his heart sink in his chest, an inch deeper than before. "Oh, yes. Definitely that. That's what I meant." He nodded, giving her a smile.

Bastrii flinched. Did… did he just lie?

No. He couldn't. He wouldn't lie to her – would he?

"Alright. What's wrong? Be honest with me."

"Honest?" He thought for a moment. He never had to lie before, so the word blindsided him. "I am honest."

The Elf stared right through him. Her mother had taught her one important thing when it came to speaking to people – if you stared at them long enough for an explanation, they would give it.

Then again, Braehoof wasn't exactly 'people', was he?

Right?

"…I wanted to know if you could… well…"

"Bastrii, who's talking?" Midna mumbled, stirring in her sleep. The blankets obscuring her head, making it hard to discern what she's saying. "He's being really loud, can you two talk outside of the tent or something? You're going to wake up Braehoof."

Bastrii's eyes widened, as Midna suddenly bolted straight up.

"This isn't a dream, oh my Goddess this is NOT a dream! The Elk is talking!" She shouted, startling the two.

This new information seemed to take not just Bastrii, but Braehoof by surprise as well. It also didn't help that Midna was stark naked, though it didn't matter – her form had nothing to really express beyond a few feminine curves.

"But I've been able to talk since yesterday?" He said, stumbling to his hooves. Midna fell flat on her rear, the elk's horns pressing against the roof of the shelter. He reflexively ducked down, avoiding toppling Bastrii's hard work.

"And you were hiding it from me?! The whole time?" Midna shouted, slamming her fists onto the bed. "What! Hold on, Bastrii, pinch me – this can't be real. Light dweller animals don't talk. If they could talk, I would feel bad about eating them! Please tell me they don't speak!"

All eyes turned to Bastrii, as she raised her hands up to defend herself.

"Well… no, it's not normal. It's really not. But it can happen. It's happened before, I mean – though under different circumstances. And it can happen in reverse, to – uh… Bosmer can turn into Animals, and back again – with the correct rituals and magic present. But… look, when I used my call to Brae… ugh. This is hard to explain.

She breathed deeply, controlling her thoughts. She hated speaking under pressure. "Okay. So, when I used Y'ffre's Blessing on Brae, it wasn't just magic that I called. I literally broke off a piece of me, and implanted it in him. For one hour, Braehoof would be under my direct control; afterwords, he could choose to leave or stay. When he chose to stay, he held on to that piece of me. And as long as he decides to keep it, we will share a deep connection. This means that he slowly learns from me, just by being in my presence. The closer he is, the faster he learns to speak, and the more 'tainted' his soul becomes."

"Tainted? Is he going to get sick? He can't get sick! Who will pull the cart?" Midna threw her hands up in frustration, fretting over the potential labor.

That comment made Braehoof upset. He wasn't here to just… pull a cart, was he?

"No no no. Okay, remember when I told you about soul gems, right? Animals have pure, white souls. And Men, Beastmen, and Mer have black souls. The longer my soul interacts with his, the darker his soul becomes – until it turns black, and he absorbs that piece of my soul until he passes. That's what happens when he doesn't 'return' to the wild. We become bound to each other until one or the other dies."

Midna looked between the two, absolutely not buying it. "And all of this can happen in like… what, four days?"

"I think the magic number is seven. On the seventh day, our souls are bound together. And as long as I live, so will he, and I will never be able to call Y'ffre's Blessing until he passes."

Braehoof fidgeted uncomfortably. He somehow knew that living as long as Bastrii was going to be a very, very long time. But Midna brought up some more valuable information.

"You said something about… transforming into an animal. I thought Bosmer could only turn into that… beast thing, you mentioned. The Wild Hunt?"

"There's more to it than that – I'll tell you on the road. Let's just… drop it all for now, and get packed up. We'll talk later." Bastrii threw on her clothes, hoping to avoid more questions. Suddenly, Wood Elves were all the rage it seemed, and everyone wanted to know more about them.

She started by adding a log to the dim coals, kicking up the heat while the pot returned to the fire. Braehoof and Midna soon joined her outside, Midna having returned her gear to its proper spot on her body. Bastrii ripped the roof down, folding it neatly.

"So..." Midna said, floating next to the Elk. "Uh… Do you have anything interesting to say, then?"

The Elk looked her over. "You're wearing the fur of the enemy Clan of the Branch, from the southern folds of the Shallow Glen. I'm sickened that you wear a pelt of my cousins, but… happy it's one of theirs. They were a horrible Herd, and had it coming." He said bluntly.

Midna scratched the back of her head, giving a small, unsure laugh.

"Uh… thanks."

Bastrii rolled up the cords she used to bind the stakes, tucking them in to her travel pack. She undid the leather wraps, letting the tent walls topple. She gathered the frame together, setting the extra long poles back into the wagon. The leather quickly joined, followed by the pelts and bedrolls. With everything in its proper place, she went back to stirring the stew.

A thick layer of snow had formed on the ground from their rest, making it uncomfortable to sit on the rocks around camp. Regardless, it had to be done. Bastrii filled two bowls, offering Midna a cool slice of goat cheese.

Bastrii withdrew a round, green apple from the bag, holding it up to Braehoof's muzzle. He smiled brightly, immediately knowing the word.

"Apple. These are rare in Shallow Glen. Thank you." He nodded, graciously accepting the fruit. He bit into it voraciously, plucking it from Bastrii's hand. She set out the grain, and everyone enjoyed a quick meal before taking to the road once more.

"Alright. We're moving. Now it's your turn to talk, Dragonbird. What's going on with transformation magic?"

Bastrii sighed. "Okay. In Valenwood, there are many Clans – or Families, and each has three animals that represent them. In times of need, a Bosmer can take the shape of one of these three animals. My father's Clan claims the Elk, the Wolf, and the Hawk. Many Clans can share these animals, but we have the bloodline of these three.

"A Bosmer, with a dire need or intense willpower, can shift into one of the three animals by choice. The transformation is very draining, and should be used sparingly to prevent adverse effects. It comes from our teachings of Y'ffre.

"You see, in the Dawning Era, the Aedra came and took on the Earth Bones. Also known as the first flesh bodies. Y'ffre was one of the first Aedra, and she brought order to the land. And she gave us the knowledge to hold on to one shape, as during that time, Bosmer were endlessly shifting their form in chaotic bodies. Mashes of vegetation and beast, with this knowledge, could finally retain the form of Mer we have today.

"But, if we ever needed to, Y'ffre taught us the ritual to turn back to these chaos creatures. We call it the Wild Hunt. By channeling it, you lose your shape and return to your uncontrolled form, and begin an endless rampage across the land. Those who stay in this form too long, and try to turn back, often fail – and become a mismatched creature of a feral mind, who will ravage the land. It's said that with every hunt, came every wild monster you see today."

Bastrii glared onwards and up the path, hiding her anger. Bosmer hated speaking of the Wild Hunt, especially in great length. She was no exception. It was a shameful ritual that should only be used in desperation, yet she found herself bringing it up at random to keep things lively. It was something she hated about herself; kind of like how one would peel a scab off of a wound, when it's best left to heal.

"You said you could become an Elk, right?" Braehoof asked, his ears perked up high.

"Yes. An Elk, a Wolf, or a Hawk. During my fourteenth birthday, known as the Burning Year; it's tradition your father teaches you the ritual, and that you spend one night in each body. The ritual is very short, but requires drinking the blood of the animal you wish to transform into. It's partly why certain… aspects, of the Green Pact revolve around consuming your enemies, on top of not letting meat go to waste."

Braehoof nearly jumped for joy, ignoring the last part. Yes! Bastrii could feel his emotions, but didn't turn to look at him. She only focused on the path ahead.

Midna found this the perfect time to speak in length about her own travels.

"Say, I do have to tell you something about Link." She said quietly, floating in close to the Elf. "He can transform into a Wolf, too. Without blood, but… only under certain circumstances."

Bastrii turned her head to face her. "Then he's a Bosmer. Simple enough. You only need to take the blood once; after that, it's all about focus, willpower, and determination. Though having some on hand makes it much easier to obtain the form. I have a million reasons to think he's one of my Kin, and that's definitely not helping."

Midna clapped her hands. "Wonderful, you understand then. Now, turn into a Wolf so I can ride you." She said, excited to have her own mount again. One that was more her own size, unlike Braehoof.

"Uh… no."

Midna pouted and glared, turning to face the Elk.

"Antler Boy! Make her do it, and I'll give you another apple."

Braehoof ignored her, marching steadily up the hill. But he did want to ask…

"Can you… turn into an Elk instead? I want to see what you look like."

"No."

He gave a tiny, sad bugle. His head laying low. "Aw."

"Why does everyone want to see me transform? It's painful, it sucks, and I don't want to. Can we just climb the mountain in peace?" Bastrii complained. "Besides, I can't bring my gear with me when I do. Everything I'm wearing either gets ripped to shreds, or falls off of me. I would have to be naked to give a demonstration."

Midna remembered the first time Link took on the form of a Wolf. If it hadn't been for the generosity of the Ordon light spirit, he would found himself barren. Midna was extra careful to hold his gear for him when he transformed, placing it in the pocket dimension she had access to in Hyrule.

The idea struck her. If she could have just a moment to access Link's belongings, she could withdraw a few potentially useful items. A spring loaded claw mechanism came to mind, which would definitely save time when it came to scaling mountains, or exploring dungeons.

This brought another realization to her mind. What if Link needed any of that? He had his bow, of course – his sword, and his shield. But he didn't have anything else with him.

It all rounded back to her nightmares, the ones she wanted nothing more than to throw away. What would Bastrii do with this kind of stress?

Midna smiled to herself. Bastrii would look forward, shut up, and keep walking. She'll complain later, when there's time to do so.

A stiff breeze rolled across the mountain path. A bend ahead showing a steep decline and a flight leading down to a lower path, before ascending safely along the distant edge. The rock grew sharp and jagged along this part of the mountain, the stairs slowly raising higher, tighter, and steeper – at some points seeming partly like a ladder. Luckily, Braehoof wasn't a horse, and could easily scale these sections. After Bastrii tied down their goods, of course.

The path ahead grew more treacherous, the wind slowly beginning to pick up; the day growing dark from the clouds above.

"So, Braehoof," Midna whispered to the Elk, being certain to keep our out of earshot "When are you going to tell her you like her?"

Midna already knew that when he did get around to it, Bastrii was going to absolutely crush his feelings. All she could do was hope it was sometime after their trip down the mountain, so they'd at least make it safely to the bottom.

"…How? How did you… how did you know?"

Midna smiled. "Come on. Bastrii isn't the best with words, but I took her advice last night. I can see your intentions with her. I mean, I'm disgusted – but absolutely curious, too. Why not chase a cow, or a horse, or a deer – something a little closer to uh… your type? Seriously Antler Boy, you're just going to get yourself hurt."

He shook his head, whispering. "Because I'm a stupid Elk with nothing left. My parents are dead, I have no herd, and all I have left is her. She took me in when I wanted to give up."

Ow. That hurt. Not just the Elk, but Midna's heart, too. Misplaced love was the worst, especially… with… someone you can never be with.

They both looked away from each other, as Midna's thoughts turned to her… companion. Her previous companion. The one she dreamed about, and…

Her heart ached. Except this time, it wasn't for Braehoof.


Hello everyone! Wow, that got weird, fast! But, I had to make a mirror situation for more character development. I was thinking of having a Khajiit join the party, or maybe a distant character that wouldn't fit Bastrii's type; but then I realized that weird relationships like those are pretty common in Skyrim. Especially considering how you can marry Argonians as any other race, it really made me question how I could push the envelope. How I could make Midna relate to someone on a level she didn't expect.

Then I realized; I had a talking, soul-bound Elk in my party already. One who shared a lot in common with all of the characters. Why not use him? Why not give him a better reason for being there?

I have absolutely no weird intentions to write a lewd scene between the two. This isn't that kind of fiction, I'm afraid. If I did, it would be in a bonus chapter, or a varied ending. And even then, it would not contain MA content, as per request on site administrators. Curse you creative freedoms, why can't you truly be free?!

If the pacing is too slow, let me know. The first several days are intended to take a while to build character; any backtracking will be much quicker, especially considering how I could write a whole day in five minutes, or five minutes in a whole day. I like lots of character interaction over lots of progress, so it's just how I write. Thanks for reading!