Chapter 10

Five days have passed since my conversation with Farkas behind Breezehome, and while I've been busy enough with the planning of our heist, I haven't been able to get his last comment out of my head.

Following my sister indefinitely.

Truthfully I did always look forwards to our trips as it was a nice break from the monotony of Guild life (and the Cistern) even it was something simple like a Giant killing or to fetch something for someone.

Some of my best loot came from the 'quests' we went on – the Dwarven and Nordic ruins being especially lucrative – which the guild certainly appreciated even if it wasn't gathered in the 'correct' way.

The more I think about it, then more appealing the idea gets. And even if I do eventually want to go my own way (and do what, I've no idea) Kara will not hold it against me. Sands, she'll be the first to urge me to go for it.

"By Dagon's ugly mug, Farkas, you win." I growl as a greeting when I enter Jorrvaskr that afternoon.

It takes him only a second to puzzle out my meaning before he laughs heartily and toasts me with his bottle of Nord Mead. The few others in the Hall – Aela, Ria and a new recruit I don't know – stare quizzingly at us, but seem too afraid of the answer to press us.

I stride past them to break the news to my sister-friend.

I swear her excited scream was heard all the way in Riverwood.

"Yayayayay! ThanksFarkas!" She screeches as she takes the stairs two at a time. "Meadsonmetonight!" she informs him as she tries to bear hug the amused larger man.

I roll my eyes in exasperated fondness. "Sister I think you might actually be choking him." I am not jealous. No. That's stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid girl.

"Comeonsisterletsgocelebrate!"

I swipe a paw across my face to try and hide my smile. "What do you have in mind?"

Her face lights up with a slightly mad grin, "well those Battle-Borns are Legion supporters-"

A snicker pushes past my lips. "Say no more; let it be a surprise."

We leave the boat-hall not looking at each other lest we descend into giggles. We take a quick detour back to Breezehome to pick up several items and then take the 'long' route past the guard barracks to the Battle-Born house.

The large house is nice and empty – the son lollygagging around town for no reason – so we quickly get work with our items. The bright blue Stormcloak banners contrast nicely with the warm coloured wood.

Kara giggles madly as we tie the longest across the rafters of the main room.

By the time we tie the short piece up in the latrine even I'm hard pressed to keep my mirth in.

"Oh they're gonna have sabre-kittens!" She exclaims as we duck out the back door.

"Sssh sister!" I admonish with a wide grin. Kara is not a natural sneak but she can pull a prank off with some help. "Now what shall we do?" I ask at a more normal volume. The rest of the day is before us still.

She shrugs. "Balgruufe says there've been some complaints about bandits coming from Loriensis farm. I'm sure Halted-stream is occupied again by now."

"Mmm. I could take my Deadric bow; it feels like the right time to name it." I muse.

"Ugh that thing is scary." She comments. "Give me good old steel."

I tsk. "Spellbreaker."

"Targe of the Blooded."

I laugh in agreement. "Is there not another bandit camp close to Halted-Stream?" I ask. "If we are quick we could hit them both." I suggest happily.

"Yeah Silent Moons. We haven't heard any noise from there though." She replies absently.

"Shall we go anyway?"

She nods.

Our conversation has taken us all the way to Breezehome so I nip in to grab Hircine's Faithful and my Deadric bow and a quiver full of glass arrows – glass being good at slicing through light armour, which is mostly what bandits wear – and then we are on our way through the city gates.

An easy familiar silence wraps around us until we are ankle deep in the scrub of the plains.

"It didn't go anywhere with Rune then?"

I sigh and mourn the shattered silence. It never lasts long with my sister. "No." I answer indifferently. "He is honestly a sweetheart, but thieving was his life, he's never gone outside of Riften except for jobs..."

She smirks. "You'd like someone to swap stories with."

I scrunch my nose at her. "I'm no storyteller. I just mean I would like someone who truly understands when I disappear for a few days."

"Ha! You're in the right place for that, sis." She giggles.

I roll my eyes. I know exactly what she's doing, she not subtle about it, but since Farkas clearly seems to have no idea, and genuinely like spending time with us, so I say nothing about her matching schemes.

"What about you?" I ask curiously. Kara has a few lovers dotted around Skyrim, but as far as I know hasn't shown any interest in settling down.

She shrugs. "I'm happy where I am now."

"None of the Companions have caught your fancy?" I ask with humour.

"Ew no." She replies in horror.

We both burst out laughing scaring a hidden rabbit into the open. I briefly finger my old bow but the tiny thing is already gone from sight. That would be a good chase but Kara would throttle me if I went dashing off now.

"I'm worried my Dovasoul will do more than give me weird knowledge." She admits slowly. "Dragons live outside of time, meaning they age very, very slowly. If that goes for me too..."

I frown with concern.

Kara shrugs a shoulder trying to pass off her worry. "As I said I'm good where I am now."

I say nothing knowing Kara hates empty platitudes just as much as I.

Halted-stream Camp is an hour and a half's walk from Whiterun. To call it a camp though is to mislabel it, as it is in fact an iron ore mine, and it happens to be a strangely popular retreat for bandits. It was the first place Kara and I killed a person, our first adventure – as it where, and our first bounty.

Four years later it still looks exactly the same (from the outside at least), from the messy pine bulwarks, to the lone bandit sentry stationed at the entrance. We are carefully alert as we edge in closer to the camp – from the East, which is really the only way to approach.

With a pull of my bowstring the sentinel goes down without a sound.

We hear a low exclamation but do not panic as this was our plan; opening the large entrance gates would be as suicidal as lighting a bonfire in announcing our presence. Instead we are letting the bandits do all the work for us since we can then pick them off as they rush through the gates to investigate.

Two burst through the gate, weapons draw, a Bosmer and an Imperial by their statures, and a third is hanging back in the entrance with a bow at the ready.

The archer goes down with an arrow in his left eye – mages first, then the archer, as Kara used to repeat every quest – and then the Bosmer who had caught my movements, and finally the oblivious human dies with an arrow in his jugular.

"Is it just me or do they get stupider every year?" Kara mutters.

I laugh huskily. "We've picked off all the clever ones, sister."

"Oh don't remind me. That bastard in Journeyman's Nook died far too cleanly." She mutters hotly.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing too loudly. Kara glares all the same before her expression turns into fighting a smile.

Hilarity over we creep through the doors, heads swivelling, on the look-out for more bandits. One sits atop a ridge the mine is dug into, and another sits with his back to the world working at a grindstone. No wonder these two didn't hear the commotion outside the camp; the squeaking noise of that contraption is deafening.

Kara keeps an eye on the grindstone bandit as I take out the one on the ridge.

This time the Grindstone bandit hears the meaty thud of his mate's body hitting the ground but by the time he gets up and turns around I've readied and aimed another arrow. The mace he had been working on drops from dead hands. He falls back onto the grindstone gurgling blood.

We pass inside cautiously.

Dirt crunches loudly under even my silent pads as we shuffle down the slope, loose stone tumble and clack together, and the air is stale and musty, clogged with the debris from the bandit's mining efforts.

I blink away a strong sense of déjà-vu when at the first level we encounter a bandit mining with his back to us. I'm sure the ratty old table and chair by the gate are the same from our first raid all those years ago.

The sweating Nord falls face first into the ore vein, arrow protruding from the base of his skull, and we slink silently through the unlocked gate.

The rest of the mine seems like one long dream sequence – so thick is the familiarity. It must get dreadfully tiresome for Kara and her band of merry men.

There is even another fresh mammoth corpse in the last, main, room and I still don't understand how the bandits managed to get it in here, even considering the slope from the pit trap. They might have actually worked together without getting into a squabble.

Also like our first time the bandit leader – obvious from the heavy armour as opposed to rough light stuff – notices his underlings dying from arrows in time to hide like the cowardly dog he is, so Kara goes roaring into the room, literally.

Unlike last time Kara is by far more skilled than her opponent.

I watched on from beside the forge as Kara gorily ends the fight nearly before it even starts. After ducking a messy axe swing Kara punches Spellbreaker into his face, staggering him, and then swings it across his throat.

The blood sprays impressively far.

We find the loot is passable, for a bandit camp, and this particular lot were doing quite well, judging by the amount of coin and junk they have, so by the time we've looted the last corpse our money pouches are bulging and our packs are almost too heavy to have on in a fight.

Emerging into the sunlight we judge it has been about an hour since we entered Halted-Stream thus we decide to push eastwards to Silent-Moons camp, which according to my sister is a half hour walk away.