'Lucan will be furious when he sees this,' Camilla said, her tone not too concerned, surveying the pillow fight battlefield, vast and worthy of being described in song and legend. Kiara scooped up two handfuls of feathers (coming from the worthy trader's favourite pillow, no more and no less) and blew them mischievously into her friend's face. 'We'll clean up after ourselves,' she smiled reassuringly. 'In the morning. About five minutes before he gets home from Whiterun. If we are in the mood. And now let's get this jolly old sleep-over rolling again! What's next on our busy-busy-busy schedule? How about snuggling somewhere warm, and eating honey nut treats, and braiding each other's hair, and talking about boys? Oh no, wait, scratch the braiding bit - our fingers will be all sticky!'

Camilla wholeheartedly agreed to this update of the agenda and proceeded to pile up blankets and the dishevelled remains of pillows to provide the perfect conditions for snuggling, while Kiara trotted up to her backpack - a brand new one, recently acquired from Enthir in Winterhold as part of a 'stop pestering me with stupid questions and we can do business' package deal - and fished out what must have been a week's worth supply of sweetmeats.


'So,' Camilla asked, with a good-naturedly sly smirk, having caught her breath after an exceedingly long-winded account of all the impossibly sweet ways with which Faendal would thank her for as much as noticing that he was there (Kiara had listened to it with the due amount of 'Aww's), 'Do you have anyone special? Anyone worth gossiping about?'

Kiara shrugged her shoulders, taking her time with replying. 'Nah,' she said at last, biting into her fifth honey nut treat. 'I've met tons and tons of really cute fellows, and we are great friends - mostly - but it never gets to that kissy-kissy bit. Though there was that old chappie in Solitude - his daughter sells this amazing spiced wine, I will definitely order a crateful for your wedding - who once started hitting on me, totally out of the blue... Or out of blackish kind of indigo, rather, because it was late at night. But I was wearing an amulet of Mara, and he was a bit on the tipsy side, so I guess he doesn't count. And then there was...'

She fell silent, blushing, her heart thumping gently against her throat. It was silly. Impossibly silly. It had already been more than a while, and she had promised herself that she would move on - she had solemnly sworn, then and there, after the metal gates of Markarth swung shut in front of her, with Barbas the hound and Spidey the steed as her witnesses, that she would treat him as the big old meanie that he was. And he had been mean as can be - after all she had done for him, after all the fun they had had together, after all those times she had saved his life, he had parted with her without as much as a 'Thank you'. No, instead, while all her sentimentally sniffing little self was silently screaming, 'Don't go so fast! Please, please stay! You are my friend! No, more than a friend!' she had been hit in the face with an icy, 'If you ever show your disgusting little human self in the Reach again, I will have you arrested'. She had laughed at those words, of course. But it's not that easy to laugh in front of a closed gateway, even if you have been laughing all your life. And to make matters worse, he had his face, that finely chiselled, arrogant face of his, firmly lodged in the back of her poor head. She did not know how he had managed to do that, but the bothersome thing kept surfacing from time to time, making her ever so soppy.

'Kiara dear,' Camilla mouthed anxiously, seeing her Redguard friend grow unusually, alarmingly serious, 'Is there something wrong?'

Kiara shook her head, with a broad, and somewhat forced, smile, 'It's nothing. Really nothing. I just remembered that once upon a time, when all the trees were bread and cheese (not really; they haven't ever been bread and cheese, not even in the Shivering Isles, and I know it for sure, because my mom went there loads of times when she was young, and she told me all about it)... Once upon a time, I made a bet with myself that I would make friends with a Thalmor. And the me that thought I could do it - well, that me lost... Say,' she added, her voice suddenly high-pitched and feverishly eager, 'Things really need livening up here. I suggest we play a little game of Truth or Dare - and since there has been a lot of truth told in these here walls for the past something something minutes, let's only dare each other to do things!'

'Your dares are boring,' Kiara declared in mock indignation. 'I mean, what's so daring about eating seven sweetrolls in a row? I can do it any old time, without being dared to...' She paused, putting her index fingers together and pressing them against her lips, deep in thought; after about three seconds - her average decision-making time - she clapped her hands and did a little gleeful dance across the room, 'I know! Since you are so bad at it, I dare myself to... to run to Bleak Falls Barrow and back in my nightie!'

'Are you out of your mind?!' Camilla exclaimed in alarm. 'It's freezing! And there are things out there, in the darkness... things that wake up when we go to sleep...'

'I know!' Kiara replied light-heartedly. 'That's what will make it so fun!'


Camilla agreed to follow her as far as the town gateway; the two young women walked on tiptoe - on Kiara's suggestion, in order to make things 'more exciting'. When they reached the invisible start line of the epic race, they stopped and stood in silence for a while, breathing in the crisp night air, listening to the murmurs of the sleeping wilderness. Then Kiara, who had not as much as shivered in the piercing wind that tugged at her light gown like a spoiled child trying to get his mother's attention, flexed her muscles, lowered herself on one knee, and dashed off into the darkness, her gown billowing in the wind, glowing white in the moonlight. She intended to run the whole way without using her secret 'cheat' (that is, her werewolf form, which allowed her to cover large distances faster than a galloping horse); that way, the dare would be much, much more daring. She laughed as the cold wind lashed at her face; and as the dark outlines of the bare trees, each like a skeletal hand with groping fingers, rushed past her, blending with one another, she laughed; the laughter coursed through her veins like liquid fire, making her blood rush faster to her heart, filling her limbs with ringing, heady energy, pushing her forward, ever forward; nothing else mattered but that laughter, nothing else existed, and the golden-skinned face with lips haughtily pursed together finally dissolved into oblivion.


The two armoured figures, darkly outlined against the silver and crimson moon disks, moved slowly down the path to Riverwood, taking great care to keep to the shadows of trees and rocks, their steps soft, cat-like. The young Redguard with flyaway hair, wearing nothing but a white night gown, did not notice them as she rushed past, on her way to the nearby Nordic barrow - but they noticed her. Exchanging meaningful looks, their eyes flashing bright yellow beneath their bird-winged helms, they slid out of the shelter of a large roadside boulder and ran after her, lightly, effortlessly, as though swept along in the wind's wake, barely touching the ground with the pointed tips of their boots. It was not long before they caught up with her. She did not cry out.


'I can't believe I am entertaining a talking dog,' Faendal muttered, setting down a bowl of meat in front of his nighttime guest. Barbas gave the bowl's contents a sniff of approval and glanced at his host, the corners of his mouth sliding upwards in a sly smirk, 'And that's jolly decent of you, I must say. I couldn't possibly stay at the Riverwood Trader, now could I? There is too much girly-girl stuff going on there for my liking. And for your kindness, I will be more than happy to share a few words of canine wisdom - wisdom being one of the illnesses you catch when you hang about Daedra Lords. You have any love life issues?'

Before Feandal could think of a coherent answer, the door to his humble home was flung wide open, and in burst Camilla, breathless, ruffle-haired, gesturing frantically. 'It's Kia!' she panted out, almost tumbling over the threshold. 'We... We were playing Truth or Dare, and she said she could race to Bleak Falls Barrow and back... She's been gone for two and a half hours... I went up the mountain trail a bit, and... Well, the earth in one spot... It's really dug up...'

'As if there's been a struggle?' Barbas asked in a most business-like manner. 'Lead the way! We are so investigating this!'


'There definitely has been a struggle,' Faendal said, getting up from his crouching pose; Camilla had not taken her eyes off him throughout his thorough examination of the deep, wound-like tracks a little to the side of the trail, and he was thankful for the poor light, for he could feel uncomfortable hotness

gradually spreading from his neck to his face. 'Two attackers. Armoured, I think. Can't make out much more'.

'Let me have a go,' Barbas piped in, a little impatiently. Faendal took a couple of steps sideways, making way for the hound; as he did, he found himself unexpectedly close to Camilla and, in a moment of inspiration, dared to take her hand in his and squeeze it reassuringly. 'She will be alright,' he said, barely moving his lips. 'I surely hope so,' she replied, with a faint smile, gently returning his touch.

They both started when Barbas finally dug his nose out of the markings in the earth and announced his verdict, 'These fellows that grabbed our poor Kiara are definitely Altmer. Most Altmery Altmer I've smelled in a while. Not that I've smelled a lot of Altmer. I have better things to do... Anyway, I'd say we're dealing with the Thalmor. From Markarth'.

'You can tell by their smell that they are from Markarth?' Faendal frowned incredulously.

Barbas gave a small, rather condescending snort, 'Pfft. No, of course not. I just did a little putting two and two together here. In fact, I'm known in certain circles as Barblock Dogges. Never mind what that means,' he added in reply to Faendal and Camilla's blank looks. 'Unlike me, you sweet little mortals don't get to travel to other universes'.


When, late in the following afternoon, Lucan Valerius returned from what he pompously called his 'business trip' to Whiterun (which had basically involved buying some supplies from Severio Pelagia and swapping stories with Belethor at the fireside at the Mannered Mare), he found the following missive carelessly tossed onto what but twenty four hours before had been his sister's pillow,

'Gone to the Reach with Faendal and Barbas to save Kiara.

Won't be back for lunch.

Sorry for the mess.

Kisses, C.

P.S. I have no idea where those copies of The Lusty Argonian Maid came from'