A/N: Hooray! Look, another chapter, and so soon after the last one! I told y'all I had more stuff in the works ;)


Baurion stood outside, ankle-deep in the snow, his torch sputtering in the wind.

What a miserable night, he thought to himself as he peered into the darkness before him.

Behind the small Breton man, a broad path wound upward, ending suddenly at a small, secluded lodge that backed into a sheer, rocky cliff. This was the Hall of the Vigilant, and Baurion a Vigilant of Stendarr. He took pride in his work—rooting out and destroying, or banishing back to Oblivion, the vile abominations of the Daedra—as did all his brothers and sisters in Stendarr's mercy.

The Hall, in the far-northern hold of the Pale, was tucked cozily onto the side of a lone mountain that stood well apart from both of the mountain ranges that ran nearby. Snow was virtually ever-present here, but that suited the Vigilants just fine: the snowy conditions made it more difficult for people to travel in the area, affording them some privacy from the prying eyes of the outside world.

Baurion shivered. How did his Nord compatriots deal with this frigid weather? He willed his torch to stay lit, though the winds were rapidly picking up; if it went out, he would have no light or heat (meagre though the torch's output was) and would have to make the long trudge back up the path to re-light it at the Hall.

Suddenly—What was that? The snow naturally muffled sounds, but Baurion squinted into the darkness, certain he'd heard something…

A sharp gust, and Bauron's torch was at last extinguished. More frustrated than frightened, he squinted at the darkness for a moment more before turning to head back up the mountainside.

But there it was again—that sound. Or was it? Baurion turned back, and to his surprise—though it was hard to make it out in the darkness—he saw what looked like a dog limping up toward him. From what he could see, it appeared that the poor thing had been injured in a fire: it had no hair and was black as the night, its skeleton visible beneath its dark hide. Feeling a rush of sympathy for the poor creature—surely injured by some foul fire Daedra—he approached it, kneeling down.

But something was wrong. As he stretched out his hand to pet the wretched beast, its eyes opened wide—horrible, eerie, and glowing red—and its teeth…its teeth…!

Powerful jaws closed without warning on Baurion's neck, and he could feel its fangs—long and razor-sharp—sinking into his own soft flesh. He felt a warm liquid cascading down his woolen mage robes and tried to call out, but he couldn't make a sound. The only small comfort he had was that he could no longer feel the bite; the first seconds had been agony, but numbness had replaced the pain, as though an icy cold were leeching into him from the from the dog's bite…but surely that couldn't be; that was absurd.

Baurion felt weak now, lying on the ground, the dog's jaws clamped down like a vise. Unexpectedly, more figures swam hazily into view out of the dark void before him. He saw them laughing at him, these men and women in strange armor the likes of which he had never seen…

The closest figure, a gaunt, grey-skinned man, was smiling malevolently at Baurion, his eyes glowing orange—no, surely not—despite the total lack of light. He inspected Baurion, who was now barely conscious, a long silence hanging on the air. At long last he spoke, and his voice, deep and gravelly, struck fear into Baurion's heart.

"CuSith…finish him."


Siri had managed to steal a few hours' rest before venturing forth once more, this time bound for Riften's Ratway in search of a man named Esbern. As she walked the scenic road toward the city, Siri recalled that Ra'Zha had been bound for Riften as well—perhaps she could find him and ask for his assistance in locating Esbern.

The trip from Riverwood to Riften was a long one, but Siri moved briskly: who knew when the Thalmor would move in for the kill? Perhaps she was already too late; it was entirely possible that Esbern was already long gone, either captured by the Thalmor or in flight to safer environs. Esbern, however, was not her only concern; she now had to watch her own back, too, lest any Thalmor agents get the drop on her.

The day wore on and Siri continued her trek, pausing occasionally to collect a specimen for her alchemy and, around midday, to pull some rations from her bag for a quick lunch—still on the move, of course. As she passed a small cave, marked "Haemar's Shame" on her map, she had a fortuitous break: tied to a tree nearby was a horse, its rider—an imperial scout, by the look of him—lying dead on the ground. Looking around cautiously, Siri shrugged and approached the horse, holding out a friendly hand. The horse, a beautiful palomino, looked rather skinny and careworn, and it shied away from her touch. Siri wondered whether it had been somewhat traumatized by its previous rider's untimely, and somewhat gruesome, end: the horse had pulled its tie-rope taut, staying as far from its dead rider as possible.

Siri looked down at the fallen soldier with a sigh. Someone had probably mistaken him for a courier; his satchel was torn apart, papers and old food tossed helter-skelter, as though someone had been searching for something. In an attempt to calm the horse, and out of a sense of duty to the fallen, Siri bent down and grabbed the man under his arms, hoisting him up and hauling him bodily across the road to lie in a patch of snowberries, where she laid him out, hands resting on his abdomen, eyes shut. With a murmured "Talos guide you," Siri turned back to the horse, which had calmed considerably—though it was still rather nervous. Moving slowly toward it, Siri pulled an apple from her rucksack and, recalling the word wall from Ysgramor's Tomb, uttered a single word.

Raan!

At once the horse calmed completely and Siri could get close enough to offer it the apple. The horse devoured the fruit quickly and stood still, allowing Siri to climb up. Now on horseback, the journey to Riften would not be nearly as time-consuming, and Siri and the palomino set off at a good pace.

Traveling south out of the mountains now, the snow on the ground thinned again and snowberries were replaced by wild mountain flowers of various colors. Siri pressed onward, sometimes at a brisk trot, other times at a full gallop, stopping at signposts now and again to confirm that she was still on the right course.

South and east she traveled, passing by the northern fork to Ivarstead; she needed to make haste if she was to beat the Thalmor to Esbern's hiding place, and stopping in the small town would only delay her journey further while accomplishing nothing substantive whatsoever. Occasionally a landmark would rise out of the otherwise serene wilderness: on her left, the fort of Treva's Watch; on her right, the ancient ruins of Angarvunde; eventually she found the small cut-across she was seeking—a narrow, winding trail of hard-packed dirt, and coaxed the palomino onto it, slowing her pace to compensate for the uneven terrain.

On she went, past Heartwood Mill to the small stone bridge nearby. She passed Faldar's Tooth at a full run, the snarling of the pit wolves echoing behind her. Speeding along the shore of Lake Honrich, she passed Merryfair Farm and followed the trail up the hill. Finally, after several hours of hard riding, she reached the Riften stable, where she dismounted in a quick, fluid motion. Hofgrir hurried over to greet her.

"Looking to stable your horse, miss?" he asked. As he approached the horse, he was taken aback. "By the Divines," he exclaimed, "what's happened to her?"

"She was like this when I came across her in the wilds," Siri answered. "Her rider was dead. I've no need for a horse right now," she added, "so I'll sell her to you if you're interested."

Hofgrir shrugged and examined the palomino, much to Siri's chagrin—she didn't have time to lose haggling over a horse right now.

"Well, she's got a good constitution, and she's built solidly, although she looks half-starved," he said. "Sure, I'll buy her. I'll pay you 500 Septims." Siri agreed and accepted the gold from Hofgrir, tucking it into her rucksack and striding purposefully toward the gates and into Riften. In her hurry, she forgot to inquire after Ra'Zha in the keep, instead making a beeline for the Ratway.

In her haste, Siri also overlooked the Khajiit woman who was standing by Haelga's Bunkhouse. As Siri descended to the lower level of the canal, the Khajiit looked up; then, with the practiced air of an experienced professional, she followed her quarry into the bowels of the city.