DF: After two weeks of editing, I have finally gotten this chapter out. The next chapter will be released next weekend.

Chapter 7

Bran and Lyz left Kynesgrove as soon as dawn came. Bran watched as Lyz broke down the camp she had built behind the wreckage of the inn. Lyz occasionally glared over her shoulder like she expected him to help her even though he didn't have hands. While she worked, Bran tried not to think about his dream from last night. Already, pieces of the dream were falling away and leaving behind mere fragments. He could only remember bits and pieces.

Golden fur. Whispered words. Find me. Come to me.

Bran swallowed thickly and forced himself to think about something else.

In the pale light of early morning, the little village still showed signs of destruction. Rubble was still covering the roads and several of the buildings would have to be torn down and rebuilt. Despite the damage, the villagers appeared happy that they were able to harvest the dragon's corpse as compensation. Elderly women and worn-out miners alike walked away with armfuls of scales, bones, and meat to be sold to traders and collectors. It was almost macabre seeing children dance around with hands full of dragon bits bragging about whose family was going to be the wealthiest. Lyz had eyed the villagers with wistfully and muttered about lost earning potential as they left the village. Bran had shaken his head and snorted in amusement at her.

Lyz was eager to leave Kynesgrove at first light. On their way out of the little village, Lyz bowed before a statue of a bearded man placed alongside the road and recited a short prayer. He found it odd that Lyz would stop and pray before an altar or statue every time she came across one. She even had a small one inside her cabin that she would pray before every morning. He wasn't sure if she was doing it out of habit, or if she was more religious than she appeared. It seemed hypocritical to him that someone could be so devout, then happily murder someone the very next moment. It was just one of those things that made Lyz strange. He considered interrupting her prayer to see if he could get her to explain what she was doing. However, he didn't get much of a chance as Lyz was already back on her feet and marching down the road before Bran could react.

The path leading north was getting rougher and the rocks were beginning to dig into Bran's paws. He had spent so much time lying in a cabin or walking on soft soil that his paw pads had grown more sensitive. The itchiness between his toes was starting to get to him. Thankfully, the road to Windhelm was rather short and in less than an hour, they found themselves standing before the city gates.

The city gate was preceded by a stone walkway that bridged a narrow winding creek. As they crossed the walkway, Bran noted that the weather had gotten significantly colder since they had left Riften. The temperature drop seemed a bit extreme for such a short distance, but Bran reasoned that the heat radiating from the hot springs in the valley had hidden the change in climate until they had reached Windhelm. As it stood, it was not quite cold enough for snow, but there was definitely a bite to the wind. Lyz must have been feeling cold too because she pulled her scarf a little higher over her face.

Guards were stationed along the bridge. Their postures were stiff and their bodies were leaner than the guards in Riften. It was as if they had trained to become soldiers rather than city guards. However, as Bran and Lyz walked past them, the guards only spared the pair a glance before returning to their sentry duties. The bridge ended at a set of large castle doors flanked by two guards. These guards also ignored the pair as they entered the city of Windhelm.

The gateway opened into a large plaza lit by the occasional fire pit. People meandered around the plaza in thick clothes meant for cold weather. Their expressions were as solemn as the climate. An old man coughed harshly as he held out a pan and begged for coins from people who ignored him as they walked by. A dark-skinned elf made his way down one of the alleys leading out of the plaza, earning himself sneers from some of the humans who saw him pass.

Bran already disliked the city.

Lyz ignored the other people in the plaza and made her way towards the building on the far side of the plaza. The door to the building led to a small bar where a woman sat inspecting her nails.

"Come on in," the woman said without looking up. "Take a seat by the fire and we'll send someone to take your order."

Lyz nodded to the woman and made her way up the stairs with Bran hurrying after her. On the second floor was an arrangement of tables and chairs. People sat at the tables and sipped alcohol and nibbled on bread. In the center was a fireplace that filled the room with a soft, warm glow.

Lyz scanned the room before her eyes zeroed in on a golden-haired man wearing a plain tunic. Lyz casually strolled across the room and lowered herself onto the chair across from the man as if she had been expecting his presence. The man, on the other hand, jumped in surprise as Lyz sat down then jumped a second time when he saw Bran standing next to him.

"Just a dog," the man sighed in relief.

If only, Bran thought.

"Was this seat taken?" Lyz asked as she poured herself a drink from the bottle resting on the table.

The man stared at her, stunned. "A-Actually, I was waiting for som-"

Lyz took a sip of the ale, frowned and placed the tankard back down. "Alcohol in Windhelm is just as bad as I remember." She turned her gaze towards the man. "Mr. Cruel-Sea, Delvin told me you had work for me."

Cruel-Sea looked momentarily caught off guard by her directness. Then his face sank into a frown and he leaned in closely.

"My daughter," he said solemnly. "She was murdered a few months ago. The bastards left her laying in a puddle of her own blood."

Lyz raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I assume they were after her valuables," Cruel-Sea continued. "She liked to wear too much jewelry in public. Always told her that it would be the death of her. I never thought…."

"It wasn't one of us," Lyz cut in.

Cruel-Sea stopped her with a raised hand. "No need to explain. I am quite familiar with your Guild's ways."

Bran's ears perked up. Guild? What Guild? Lyz had never mentioned a guild.

"I found the killer after a couple weeks. A bloody Altmer at that. Can you imagine that?" The man gave a disgusted look, as if the very name of the race foiled his tongue. Apparently the man had a distaste for elves.

Lyz gazed at Cruel-Sea intently. "Tell me more. What happened to the killer?"

"Let's just say that an eye for an eye applies in Windhelm as much as it does anywhere else." Cruel-Sea took a deep breath and the scent of his rage dissipated slightly. "He claimed to be a member of some new guild around here. Gave me some good information before...you know."

"You killed him before I could question him?"

"Um yes…."

Lyz was silent for a long time. Cruel-Sea squirmed in his seat uneasily as Lyz stared at him with her cold gray eyes. Bran couldn't tell if Lyz was angry or impressed. Looking at her blank expression made him nervous too.

"If the killer is dead, what exactly am I being hired to do then?"

"I set up a deal with Delvin. You recover something I'm looking for and get to take down a rival guild in the process. I'm sure the mistress will be pleased with my aid."

"If you think the mistress is ever pleased, then you must not have ever met her," Lyz answered sourly. "It's your daughter's jewelry that you want back, right? Tell me what it looks like and where I can find it."

"It was a silver locket. It was a family heirloom, you see. I can't bear the thought of those monsters keeping it. I want it back. I'd start my search in the market. There's a woman named Niranye who sells goods there. She's a dark elf who has a shifty look to anyone with a good eye. She knows something."

Lyz stood up suddenly, causing Cruel-Sea to nearly fall back and tip over his seat. She stood until she nearly towered over Cruel-Sea.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she stated robotically. "The Guild will remember your cooperation."

"I.. you're welcome?"

Bran staggered to his paws when Lyz abruptly walked away. He trotted after her as she headed back down the stairs of the inn. Bran expected her to turn towards the door, but instead she stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

She frowned. "Altmer thieves in Windhelm of all places. And sloppy ones at that. A dead body attracts the type of attention a thief really doesn't need. Hmm…."

Absently, Lyz's hand began stroking Bran's back. Her magic felt ticklish against his skin.

Bran pulled away from her with a hiss. He did not wish to feel the taint of her magic on him. He did not wish to feel the taint of anyone's magic on him again. Never again.

Lyz's eyes widened at him. Then her face molded itself back into a blank expression. Her hand moved away from him.

"Let's find this dark elf Cruel-Sea spoke of." Her voice was cold. Colder than it had ever been.

Bran shivered. His son occasionally got this way. Charles was normally unexpressive, even around his own family. Bran blamed it on his job of killing disobedient and dangerous werewolves, a trying but necessary job. On particularly bad days, when Charles took the death of a werewolf badly, he became even more closed off than usual. Sometimes, not even his mate, Anna, could ease him out of his shell.

Bran looked up at Lyz's dark expression. Her face was blank and her eyes were ice-cold. People were not born this way. That Bran was sure of. What could have happened to this woman to cause her to get this way?

Bran followed Lyz out of the inn.

"Can I help you with something?" Niranye said boredly.

They had found the dark elf in a market on the west side of Windhelm. The locals had referred to the part of the city as the Stone Quarter. The market was packed with stands set up by traders selling a variety of goods. The trader at the stand to their left was claiming to sell 'exotic' meats. As far as Bran was concerned, the stack of cliff racer meat smelled like regular elk meat dyed a different color. Strangely enough, when Bran and Lyz had arrived, the trader had started shouting about selling exotic dog food.

Niranye was standing behind a stall selling weapons and pieces of armor. She had an exasperated look on her face and seemed none too impressed by Lyz's lukewarm expression.

Lyz leaned in close. "Fjotli."

The intimidation tactic must have failed because Niranye simply tilted her head and tapped her chin as if she were thinking deeply. "Fjotli...Fjotli... Hmm. Where have I heard that name?" The dark elf's mouth fell open in exaggerated surprise. "Ah, that was the girl who got murdered not too long ago. What a tragedy."

"Drop the act," Lyz bit out. "I know you were involved."

"How dare you," Niranye exclaimed in outrage. "Accusing me of participating in a murder? I would do no such thing!"

Lie. Bran could almost taste the falsity on her breath and he made that clear when he growled at her. Lyz glanced down at Bran and gave a small smile of appreciation. Then she looked back at Niranye and gave her a dark look.

"Let's make something clear. You may be a good merchant, but you are a really bad liar. I'm beginning to lose my patience. You have two seconds to start squealing before I sic Fang on you."

Lyz gestured at Bran who grinned at Niranye with all of his big teeth. The elf shot a look at Bran's fangs and shuddered.

"Y-You wouldn't do that here in the middle of the city with all the guards watching." Niranye tried to sound confident, but her shaky voice betrayed her.

Lyz narrowed her eyes, then nodded to Bran. Bran walked around the stall and cornered the dark elf. He didn't bother to hide how dangerous he was this time. Niranye pressed herself against the stall and shrieked in terror. Some of the other shoppers were alerted by the commotion and glanced in their direction. The guards started making their way towards them.

"So be it then," Lyz said to Niranye rather cheerfully.

"N-Now just a moment." Niranye held up her hands between her and Bran as if that would be enough to stop a hungry werewolf. "No need to resort to violence. Let's think about this, you know, discuss it like two rational women."

"What's going on here?" A guard demanded when he reached them. His hand rested on his sword as his eyes fell on Bran.

Lyz's face blossomed into an innocent smile as she responded brightly, "Nothing, sir. My dog here just likes to greet people and just wanted a pat on the head. Sometimes people get a little spooked by his friendliness. Isn't that right, Niranye?"

Niranye looked between the guards and Lyz. Stuck between a hard place and a rock it seemed.

"O-Of course," the elf finally responded. She slowly reached down and gingerly patted Bran on the head. "A-Aren't you s-such a g-good boy."

To Bran's credit, he wagged his tail and gave Niranye another grin.

The guard looked mildly disturbed. "Just try not to disrupt the rest of the shoppers again."

"Yes, sir," Lyz answered obediently. She watched as the guard walked away. Once he was out of earshot, she turned back to Niranye. "Talk. Now."

"I-I had no choice," Niranye answered desperately, fake confidence now abandoned. "These men are crazy. I could be killed if they find out I talked."

"You will be killed if you even think about acting against the Guild again. Who are they? Where are they hiding?"

"They are a group of thieves who call themselves the Summerset Shadows. Their leader is the worst of the lot. Linwe steals valuables off of corpses."

"He kills people for their valuables?"

"No, no. He prefers to dig up corpses in the Hall of the Dead to collect their jewelry. He even stole the locket off of that poor girl's body."

So he wasn't killing his victims, Bran thought. If he didn't kill Fjotli, how did she die?

"If Linwe does the dirty work, then what is your role in this?"

"I used to work as a fence for the Thieves' Guild a long time ago. When Linwe and his band moved into Windhelm, he said that I would have to fence for them or else he would kill me."

Bran tilted his head. Thieves' Guild?

"So where are they?"

Niranye hesitated then smiled. "How about this? If your Guild promises to forgive my actions and renew my fencing services with them, I will be more than happy to tell you where the Summerset Shadows are hiding."

Lyz paused for a moment as she considered the offer then she nodded her head. "Go on."

Niranye gave Lyz directions to the thieves' hideout. Lyz listened carefully and took notes in an old journal she kept in her pocket. When the dark elf was done with her explanation, Lyz put the journal away in her pocket. Before Bran and Lyz left, however, Lyz paused to ask one more question.

"One last question. Fjotli's father didn't give too many details about the manner of his daughter's death. How did the Summerset Shadows kill her?"

A trick question, Bran realized. Designed to see if Niranye was lying. She had already told them that the thieves didn't kill Fjotli.

Niranye shook her head. "I know that you think that I had something to do with her death, but that could not be further from the truth."

"That's the same lie you told me earlier," Lyz said darkly.

"It's the truth," Niranye insisted, trying not to look too hard at Bran. "There's some psycho known as the Butcher who has been killing women in Windhelm for the past few months. The guards are offering a pretty high bounty for his head."

"Money, you said?" Lyz's voice sounded too hopeful for Bran's liking and he nipped her side. "Ouch! What was that for?"

Bran simply narrowed his eyes at her in annoyance.

"Yes," Niranye continued undiscouraged. "It was a pretty high reward too. They must be getting desperate. Ahem. It appears that I have answered all of your questions, right? No need to hang around any longer?"

Lyz's eyes lingered on the woman. "I suppose. Pleasure doing business with you, Niranye."

Niranye's information led the pair to a place called Uttering Hills Cave. It wasn't too far away from Windhelm. It was simply a short walk following a creek up a hill towards where the Summerset Shadows had holed themselves up.

During the walk there, Lyz had looked down at Bran and said, "You've been real quiet lately. Is there something on your mind?"

Bran hadn't responded. Instead he had chosen to play his role as the dumb dog. To his surprise, Lyz had stopped in the middle of the path and really looked at him.

"What are you?" She had said. "Sometimes you seem like a normal dog. But other times I feel like there is someone actually intelligent in that head of yours. Are you a daedra?"

Bran had remained silent.

In the end, Lyz had pulled her scarf back over her mouth and continued walking as if nothing had even happened. That hadn't stopped Bran from noticing that the stiffness had returned to her posture. But she wasn't running away either.

It seemed that Lyz hadn't quite decided what Bran was. She had clearly seen werewolves before. There were plenty of them in the Silver Hand's hideout, including the one that had tried to eat her. Although it appeared that werewolves in Skyrim were significantly different from the ones on Earth. More different than Bran probably realized. That most likely explained her confusion.

Despite her clear suspicions towards him, Bran had no intention of revealing his true identity. Not yet, at least. Although Bran had to admit, he couldn't tell her even if he had wanted to. He wasn't exactly in the right condition to have that conversation with her. He still couldn't Change.

For now, he would have to keep Lyz guessing.

Besides the matter of her suspicion, Bran found it interesting that she was able to tell that he was quieter than normal. Granted, wolves couldn't talk. But she must have learned his pattern of behavior well enough to notice the difference. Lyz was turning out to be a highly observant person. Unfortunately for her, Bran was even more observant than she was. He had been listening carefully to her conversation with Niranye and had noticed how the two women spoke of "The Guild." They had called it the Thieves' Guild. Did this make Lyz a thief?

Bran's thoughts had been interrupted when they reached the cave Niranye had told them about. In an instant, Lyz dropped to a crouch and listened carefully. There was a faint chattering sound just down the path from where the pair stood. Voices drifted across the wind along with the smell of smoke. Bran counted at least three voices. There must be a camp nearby.

Lyz tilted her head as she thought. Bran considered the gesture adorably wolf-like. A stray thought drifted into his mind and he wondered what Lyz would look like as a wolf. He shook the thought out of his mind, irritated that he was letting himself get distracted. Lyz appeared to have made up her mind and kneeled down. She looked at her hand and muttered a word so quietly that Bran's wolf ears barely caught it.

"Bow."

In an instant, magic curled itself around Lyz's hand and formed into an ethereal bow. The bow appeared so suddenly that Bran wasn't able to suppress his flinch. Lyz's eyes turned towards him and she chuckled in amusement.

"Conjuration magic," she said, wiggling her fingers. "Makes carrying weapons a lot easier." She frowned. "You don't have any armor and we're about to walk into a fight. Here."

Lyz reached towards him with a hand oozing foreign magic. Bran recoiled away from her with a snarl. There was a moment of silence. Lyz looked at her hand then back at Bran. Her smile fell from her face.

"Fine."

Lyz looked away from him and continued up the path without another word.

Bran stared after her as she walked away from him. He had made a mistake. His goal had been to get her to trust him, not push her away. Yet, every time he felt her magic wrap him in its peppery feeling, he remembered what the witches had done to his former mate. He still felt the familiar burn of her death inside his chest.

True, he had allowed Lyz to use the healing spell on him back in Kynesgrove. But that was an exception. The heat of the battle and his desperation to find her had clouded any concern he would have felt at the time. It was a small lapse in judgement. This time was different. He was not suffering from the pain of a dragon's icy magic. The only pain that came to mind now was the pain he had experienced as his mate bond was severed.

No. He could not let Lyz use magic on him again. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

Bran hurried his way up the rest of the hill until he caught up with Lyz. Lyz didn't acknowledge his presence. Her eyes remained locked on the three elves left to guard the door leading into Uttering Hills Cave. When she was close enough to the elves, Lyz raised her bow and began pulling back the string. An ethereal blue arrow appeared on the string between Lyz's fingers and hummed with magic. With practiced ease, she released the arrow and let it fly. The arrow zipped through the air like a bolt of lightning and buried itself into the back of one of the elves. The elf dropped like a log, catching the other two elves' attention in the process.

Golden eyes met gray ones. One of the elves lifted a war axe and charged towards Lyz with a battle cry. But before the elf could reach her, Bran materialized out of the cover of a bush and sank his teeth into him. He had caught the elf off-guard and made quick work of him. By the time Bran finished the elf off, Lyz had already taken care of the third elf.

Lyz sank down to her knees before the elves and searched their pockets. She collected coins, jewels and other valuables from the bodies and shoved them into her pocket. Bran was about to grumble in disapproval when she fished out an old key.

"There we go," Lyz said in quiet triumph.

She inserted the key into the shabby door blocking the entrance to the cave and turned it until the lock clicked. The door creaked open slowly. Before entering the dark tunnel, Lyz cast another spell and a blue light slid over her body and vanished.

A warding spell, Bran surmised. In his world, witches and wizards alike used these spells to protect themselves from their enemies' magic. Bran was certain that Lyz was of the same type, though he wasn't sure which variety it was. Some were good against specific types of magic, while other warding spells could be used for other purposes.

Without looking back to make sure Bran was still following, Lyz disappeared into the cave. She was ignoring him. With a sigh, Bran went in after her.

The inside of the cave was wet and only slightly warmer than the outside. A cold breeze eased its way through the cave and chilled the stone walls enough to allow small piles of snow to form against the rocks. The cave weaved its way away from the surface then opened up into a small cavern. Summerset Shadow members wandered the cavern, their dark uniforms keeping them well hidden in the darkness. Most of them held their positions, however, either keeping watch or boredly waiting for something to happen.

Good, Bran thought. That meant that the commotion outside hadn't alerted them.

Lyz studied the thieves with the intensity of a stalking cat. Her eyes darted left and right, possibly counting the number of thieves in her head. Then she abandoned the magical bow with a flick of her wrist and exchanged them for the pair of daggers at her waist. She looked at Bran for the first time since entering the cave and gestured for him to wait before proceeding deeper into the cavern.

Bran did not like how cold and emotionless her face had been when she had looked at him.

Lyz snuck up to the first thief and dispatched him with practiced ease. Then she did the same to the next two. The final one reacted fast enough to swing his sword at Lyz as she dug her daggers into his back. But the sword caught on the magic coating her body and bounced off her body harmlessly. A ward against physical attacks rather than magical.

Bran whined when Lyz made her way towards one of the corridors leading deeper into the cavern and out of his line of sight. Lyz glanced over her shoulder at him and again motioned for him to stay. With the obedience level of any wolf, Bran ignored the command and padded up to her side.

"What are you doing?" Lyz glared at him. "I told you to wait."

Bran pinned his ears back and growled stubbornly.

"You're kidding me. All you have to do is sit in one spot and wait until I get back. Is that too difficult to understand?"

Bran stared at her like a dumb animal.

Lyz dug her fingers into her hood and groaned. "Fine. Fine. Don't wait. Just one dog-looking whatever-you-are against a horde of armed thugs. Definitely a great idea."

Little did she know just how extensive Bran's fighting experience was. In a display of affected confidence, Bran took a couple steps ahead then paused. He looked back over his shoulder and waved one paw in a walking motion.

Lyz put her hands on her hips. "You're telling me to come? Really? Have you forgotten who was leading just a moment ago?"

Bran gave her a toothy grin and led the way.

They dispatched more of the guild's members along the way. Eventually, the path led them to a spiraling stairway leading deeper into the cave. Bran's ears faintly caught the sound of several voices clustered at the bottom of the staircase, though he was sure that Lyz wouldn't be able to hear them. Instead of allowing her to go first, he made his way down the stairway ahead of her, his steps quick but silent. He paused when he reached the bottom of the stairs. There were three more thieves left to deal with and one of them looked like the leader. Bran glanced back at Lyz and waited for her to make a decision.

Lyz glanced around the corner and studied their enemies carefully. Then she responded by summoning her bow and planting an arrow in one of the thieves' chest.

Bran rolled his eyes. So much for strategizing. He joined the fray as the fight broke out.

The leader, Linwe, put up a good fight. Unlike the previous elves who appeared to be simple thieves and pickpockets with no fighting experience, Linwe fought with confidence and determination. He ducked and weaved around arrows then danced around Bran as the wolf closed in on him. He flashed a dagger at Bran that nicked the wolf on the shoulder. But in the end, Bran was the more experienced fighter and the guild's leader fell before the wolf's jaws.

Once Linwe was down, Lyz set about searching for Fjotli's locket. Like the ones guarding the cave entrance, the minor thieves didn't have much on them. Mostly small valuables that they had likely stolen from someone else. The silver locket, on the other hand, was in Linwe's possession. Lyz found it around Linwe's neck and she yanked it off his body without a second thought. All they would have to do now is return the locket to Fjotli's father.

Bran was preparing to leave when he noticed that Lyz was still bent over the thief leader's body. She had already begun yanking off the elf's armor and inspecting his weapons to see if anything was valuable. She studied his belongings with the intensity of an expert appraiser who had just spotted gold. She sniffed a piece of armor then shoved it into her bag while muttering to herself. Something about depreciation? It was such a sight that Bran stopped to stare.

Lyz looked up from her appraising and tilted her head at him. "What?"

Bran glanced at the pile of armor and shook his head in disapproval.

Lyz had the audacity to look offended. "Don't be ridiculous. I am not letting these high quality goods go to waste. You'll thank me later."

Bran rolled his eyes. Yep. She was an odd woman indeed.