Alvor's forge wasn't unlike the one Svana apprenticed at in Kynesgrove. The fires burned hot, the metal sang with each hit of the hammer, and displayed on a simple wooden rack, were impressive weapons and tools to serve the people of Riverwood.

Svana didn't know how long she slept for. Judging by the cool breeze and gentle singing of the insects in the grass, it was either late in the afternoon or early in the evening. Hadvar had taken his leave, probably off to see Ralof, and Sigrid had given her permission to explore their town if she wished. "Just be back for supper!"

The town was quaint enough, with bright mountain flowers peeking out from bushes and wooden fences. The river sparkled in golds and pinks as the sky waned into darkness, and the inn sang with merriment and mead.

But it was the forge that drew her in first. She wrapped the borrowed over-cloak around her shoulders tighter as the wind picked up, and made her way around the house. Leaning against the wooden frame of the house, and watched Alvor at the forge. She couldn't help but smile at the way Dorthe tried to help in any way she could.

"Ah, there you are, you're finally up!" Alvor gave her a big, friendly grin over the fire. He wiped the sweat off his brow, smearing dirt across his skin as he did. "How are you feeling?"

Svana shrugged. "Rested, I guess."

"You guess?"

She pushed herself off the wall. "Dreamt of dragons."

It was a solemn answer, one Alvor empathized with. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, unless you brought the beast down to Helgen yourself."

Alvor smiled grimly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Papa!" Dorthe called, "Papa, I'm done!"

"Oh?"

The young girl bounded over excitedly, proudly presenting a misshapen knife in gloves too big for her, "The front part's a little wonky, but everything else looks okay!"

Alvor inspected it, giving it as much thought as he would any other weapon. "Well, I wouldn't sell this in the shop," Dorthe deflated, "But I think we can keep this one. My girl's first knife!"

Svana smiled at the scene before her, "You want to apprentice for your Pa, Dorthe?"

The young girl gave a bashful smile, "Only if you don't tell Mama."

Svana winked. "Cross my heart."

"Ay, you mentioned you were an apprentice yourself, what did you make?"

"A little bit of everything." Svana shrugged, "I had days where I ran the forge myself, too!"

Alvor's eyes widened with surprise. "That so? How long have you been apprenticing?"

A proud smile spread across her lips, "Since I could pick up a hammer."

"Hear that Dorthe?" Alvor looked to his daughter, "She thinks she can do a better job than you!"

"Nuh-uh, no way!"

Alvor laughed, "Why don't you show me what you can do? I've got some scrap iron you can use."

Svana smiled at the opportunity. It was a welcome break from questions of Helgen, or dragons, or her brother. She shrugged off her over-cloak, and made her way to the forge.

Like second nature to her, she began to select the iron scraps that Alvor had pointed out, checking the quality for any flaws. Then she moved to stoke the flames of the forge and melted the iron down. Though the forge wasn't her usual one in Kynesgrove, her technique and timing were all there for Alvor to see and inspect.

She waited til the metal turned the right color before shaping it into a simple dagger- nothing fancy like what was sold in cities to mercenaries or nobility, but one an everyday person in Skyrim would use in their travels.

She smirked at the bit of flourish she liked to add, a simple knotwork detail into the blade, before finally finishing the dagger off.

The hilt was simple- wrapped in soft, supple leather, and tied masterfully. After the last bit of polish, Svana presented the gleaming blade for her host to inspect.

Alvor was impressed. Dorthe was starstruck.

"Ay, that's good work lass," Alvor picked up the blade, nodding in approval, "Your master must have been very proud of you." He laughed, pleased with the result. "Keep it up and soon you'll be working the Skyforge."

Svana blushed at the compliment. "Oh, please, what nonsense!" She leaned against the wooden banister over the river, enjoying the cool breeze over her sweat-slicked skin. "I just make nails, mostly."

"And yet everybody needs nails!" Alvor gave her a good-natured pat on the shoulder, "I think Dorthe might have found herself a new idol."

Svana knelt down as Dorthe approached her, hands behind her back, shy as a fawn. "Mama says I shouldn't do this stuff, it's not very ladylike."

Svana scoffed at that. "Don't worry about it," she said, patting the girl on her head, "Don't remember any skald-songs singin' about ladies not being allowed near the forge."

Dorthe gasped in realization. "That's true."

"Plenty of songs about shieldmaidens and warrior women though, and tell you what, they usually need a good blacksmith for all that upkeep."

There were practically stars in the young girl's eyes as she hung on Svana's every word.

Alvor laughed, "Don't encourage her too much, lest her mother hunt you down for sport."

As if on cue, Sigrid called from the kitchen window, "Dorthe! Can you help me set the table for dinner?"

The girl's face dropped, but Svana tapped her on the chin affectionately, "Ay, but even good blacksmiths help their mothers in the kitchen."

"Even you?"

A sad smile spread over Svana's face. "Even me."

She missed them. All of them, even Onmund. Especially Onmund and Elsie.

"-Dorthe!"

"Coming, Mama!" And with that, she threw her gloves off, and ran into the house, only to be met with Sigrid's disappointed sighs. Muck and dirt from the forge…again.

Svana got up and joined Alvor overlooking the river. The fading light in the sky painted the forest and river in hues of golds and reds. It was so painfully quaint and beautiful, Svana hated the thought that not too long ago a dragon had razed a village just like this.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, and hugged herself tighter against the cold air that began to settle in.

"I never got to thank you properly," Alvor said after a long pause, "For bringing Hadvar and Ralof back. It…it was nice that you brought them home."

"They looked like they were going to kill each other, who'd have guessed?" Svana never took her eyes off the water. It was the only way she knew to calm herself, a trick her Oma taught her so long ago. When anger boiled her blood or when the world seemed like too much, seeing her reflection in the water always reminded her of who she was. "Far as I knew, they were both someone's sons- someone would've wanted them back."

"That's a kind thought," a pause, "Thank you."

But the quiet that seemed to befall them hadn't been an easy one. There was a sadness to the way Alvor gripped the wooden banister, the way his brows furrowed in frustration.

"This war's going to do a lot more than keep those two boys apart."

Svana said nothing. There was nothing she could. She knew nothing of war; what could she say to a family so deeply affected by it?

"-My brother, Hadvar's father, died in the Great War. Fighting for a cause we knew we couldn't win but… we had to try."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, those are old hurts, old wounds." Alvor matched her gaze, watching the water's reflections. "But with dragons now flying about…" He shook his head. "I don't know."

Svana looked to him, silently urging him to finish his thought.

"If the soldiers don't tear up Skyrim one hold at a time, then those dragons are going to make a mess of things sooner or later."

That was a terrifying thought, and a fear Svana wanted to keep to herself. But Alvor had mirrored it word-for-word, and she wondered if the news had spread to her village yet. Would they be forced to move? Where would they even go?

"You've done me and my family a great kindness bringing Hadvar home in one piece… but news of the dragons? That's going to keep me awake at night. And if the soldiers are all cut loose and running wild…"

He pushed himself off the banister and looked to Svana with all the seriousness a Nord could possess. "I need to ask for one more favor."

Svana straightened up. "I'm all ears."

She could see he struggled with asking more from her, as he rubbed his arms and cast down his gaze. "If trouble really is coming our way, then the Jarl needs to know."

She only scoffed in reply. "What could the Jarl do?"

Alvor shrugged. "Spare some guards, maybe spread the word to the other holds- either way, don't you think all of Skyrim should know if a dragon's coming?"

"Dragons are hard to miss." It wasn't that she didn't want to help, but… it seemed so futile. "What could anyone even do? Can a dragon even be killed?"

He sighed, tired and defeated. "I don't know. But we need to be prepared somehow, even if it's just knowing. Maybe we could all hide somewhere, figure out a way to kill it."

"And the soldiers?"

Alvor frowned. "That I know the Jarl can help with- he hasn't picked a side yet in the war, and I don't think he plans to."

"So you want me to send word to the Jarl?"

"I wouldn't want to send you off into the night, but if you leave soon, you could make it to Whiterun by nightfall. Once you're there, you can speak to the Jarl first thing in the morning."

Svana looked around the village, trying to get her bearings and make sense of things, but nothing looked familiar at all. She was used to the lush, autumn-colored forests of the Rift, the flat lands of Eastmarch and the snowy peaks of the northern shore. The rolling hills and tan farmlands were not at all what she was accustomed to in the slightest.

She didn't even know Skyrim could look like this. She was out of her element, that much was clear. But someone had to do something.

"Enough. How do I get to Whiterun?"

Alvor snorted in amusement. "Before you go finding yourself some trouble, have a meal with us first. Then I'd recommend talking to the traders— get some supplies for the trip. You can take the road north to the city, it's a straight shot from there."

"If he hadn't picked a side in the war— do you think he'd lend a helping hand?" Svana was cautious, she always found it hard to find any good-nature in nobility. The Thanes of her hold did nothing but get drunk, harass villagers and demand higher taxes.

So what was a Jarl going to do in a situation like this?

"I know everyone says this about their leaders, but Jarl Balgruuf the Greater isn't like the others," Alvor spoke as if he had some personal experience in dealing with him. "He'd listen, and he'd spread the word."

Svana wanted to help. These people were at the mercy of dragons and soldiers overlooking their village entirely. And with the way the world went when it came to mindless destruction, quaint villages like these were so often the first to go. Helgen being a recent example in Svana's experience.

She relented. "Alright. A quick meal, then I'll be off."

"Thank you, Svana," Alvor smiled. Quietly, he added, "Talos guide you."

Her journey had been set then. After a quiet meal with the family, Svana accepted what gear they could lend her, and set off to the Riverwood Trader.

Stepping through the threshold of the shop, she was accosted by the all-too familiar sound of siblings bickering.

-xxx-

Lessons had drawn to a close in the College of Winterhold. Apprentices filed out of study halls with large tomes in hands, bracing the cold chill of the north as they hurried back to their quarters. As the winds blew around them, small wisps caught onto dangling jewelry and loosely worn hoods of the apprentices, seeking lazy, simple respite against the cold air. A haze of multicolored orbs floated between and behind students, everyone equally desperate to sit by a fire and tend to their studies in peace.

It had been a very insightful session, and already, Onmund's journal was half-filled with everything Tolfdir (and Alrek) had shared for the day. He ducked out of the way of the stream of apprentices as he watched for any signs of Brelyna and J'zargo. A wisp nestled against his hood as he waited, its warm, tingling buzz a reminder of his place in the halls soaked in ancient magic. He raised a finger to pet it, smiling when the ethereal creature leaned into his touch.

"There you are!" Onmund looked down in surprise to find none other than Alrek Allard.

"Oh!"

"I'm sorry, I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time?"

Onmund looked around, his friends still nowhere in sight- just how many students could fit in this hall?

"-No, I'm… just waiting for the others actually." Onmund folded his arms across his chest, hoping to come off as more stoic and put-together than how he felt on the inside. "W-what about you?"

Divines, he could practically melt at anything Alrek did, but that smile would be his doom.

"I still feel terrible about what happened earlier."

Onmund blinked, taken off-guard. "Really? I mean…it's no big deal."

"No, it was! I shouldn't have said something like that and embarrassed you. It was very inconsiderate of me."

"Well, you did teach me how to put up wards, so…" Onmund shrugged, trying his hardest to regain any semblance of control over his emotions. "Y-you're good."

Alrek though, didn't seem convinced in the slightest. "Are you sure? Please, at the very least, could I at least buy you something for dinner?"

Onmund was tempted. Growing up less than fortunate his entire life meant he rarely had the chance to be picky about food. It was either eat what was served or go hungry. At least he learned to appreciate leeks and root vegetables when meat became scarce.

Too easy, he thought, it'd be too easy to simply ask Alrek to give him something exotic or sweet, something even his family would balk at.

But Alrek looked so sincere…

"-I can't," Onmund waved away, "Please, really, it's alright."

"Perhaps…" Alrek tapped his chin, "Perhaps I could accompany you for dinner, then?"

Just then, he caught the sight of Brelyna and J'zargo among the thinning crowd of students, the Khajiit excitedly waving at him over the others.

"Well, see, the thing is…"

Alrek turned to match Onmund's gaze, and to his heartbreak, he heard Alrek sigh.

"I see."

"D-don't take it the wrong way," Onmund tried, "It's just that I promised them a meal together first"

Alrek smiled, though Onmund wasn't sure if it wasn't hiding disappointment, or if he was genuinely alright with being rejected.

Oh, gods. He had rejected him, didn't he?

"I completely understand," Alrek smoothed down the front of his black robes, a mark of a more experienced mage in Winterhold, and flashed another one of his dashing smiles. "Don't worry about it, I wouldn't want you to break promises with your friends."

Onmund wasn't quite sure what to say, so he simply nodded in affirmation.

"Though, consider it at least? You're quite the intriguing fellow, and I find myself wanting to get to know you better," Alrek said, turning. "I'll see you around, Onmund."

He said his name. He said his name! Alrek said his name. He remembered his name. By the Nine, a man that beautiful had said his name without any inflection of mockery or hate and- good gods, he had rejected him.

He watched as Alrek sauntered off to cross the courtyard, lengthy blood-red hair blowing in silky tendrils in the wind, before pulling it all into his hood and making the trek indoors. Back straight and shoulders square, he walked with an elegant stride that reminded him of the royals and princes from books he read as a child.

"There you are!" Brelyna dragged Onmund out of his reverie, "Goodness, I didn't think we'd make it out of the crowds!"

"This one did say to wait until the others left first," J'zargo reminded.

"Well, we're all here now and-" Brelyna caught the shadow of Alrek ducking into the Hall of the Elements, "I saw him talking to you."

"Who?" Onmund pretended.

Brelyna frowned, "You know, you don't have to let him say things like that to you."

"That is true, J'zargo would have just blasted the fool for even daring to speak in such a demeaning way!"

Onmund kept petting the wisp on his shoulder, a momentary comfort, "It's fine, Brelyna," he smiled, "But I'm really grateful you two are looking out for me."

"If he says anything like that to you again," Brelya put on a brave face, "You come right to us and we'll sort him out."

Onmund couldn't help but smile at the bravado his friends wore. Truly, it had been so different compared to his siblings. He believed it wholeheartedly when Brelyna and J'zargo said they'd defend his honor.

"He just wanted to have dinner with me."

The answer made his friends blink in dumbstruck wonder.

"He…wanted to have dinner with you." Brelyna repeated.

"Are you sure?" J'zargo raised a brow, "How strange… This one would have expected him to laugh at you further."

Onmund shrugged, "I told him I promised you two a meal together, and he just kinda wandered off afterwards. He kept insisting on buying me something, I think he felt really bad about what happened earlier."

His answer certainly brought a smile to his friends. "Really?" Brelyna asked, "You said you'd have a meal with us first?"

Onmund nodded.

"Oh, friend," J'zargo did his best to reach up and around Onmund's large shoulders, "This one knows it has been said already, but you? This one likes you a lot."

The three of them (and their new wisp) bundled themselves together into the warmth of the hall, shrugging off their heavy cloaks and changing into more comfortable clothes for the upcoming meal. Onmund pulled on a simple shirt, one of the few he had been able to grab before running off that fateful night.

Just as he searched through his belongings for a belt, his hands felt something cold and metal in the bundle of clothes carelessly heaped into his closet.

His breath caught in his throat as he pulled it out. A simple silver amulet, with a bright sapphire set in the center. In Nordic runes, the names of his family members were lovingly engraved in a circle around the jewel. Lothgar. Ulla. Svana. Elsie.

Onmund.

His family amulet.

Svana had made it for him when he had turned sixteen, the age all Nords seemed to agree when a boy became a man. His father had thrown a celebratory feast for him, boasting to the rest of the village of his son. How he'd help provide for the family, and maybe have some grandchildren to dote on.

Of all the heartbreaks, this one hurt the most to keep. But no matter what Onmund did, he could never throw it away. It was a badge of honor, to both him and his family.

Especially his mother. She would embroider his best shirts with expensive blue thread he didn't know they could afford to match the jewels in his amulet. She was always the first to introduce him to the other children at temple gatherings, boasting of how handsome and kind he was to every other mother with an available son or daughter. But every year that spirit dwindled, until eventually he elected not to go to the gatherings at all.

She was so proud of him. And he still disappointed her at every turn.

There was a stinging in his eyes that wasn't there before. He blinked hastily to ward off the tears.

"Onmund?" Brelyna's voice sounded from behind his closed door, "Onmund?"

"C-come in!" he hastily stuffed it back into his closet, shutting it with such force he almost knocked the poor wisp that had followed him off its place on the shelves.

"Oh! I'm sorry." Brelyna stepped back, her hand over her heart. "Is everything alright?"

Brelyna's form glistened before him and he felt how his eyes pricked with heat. He dabbed at them. "Sorry, just… remembered I hadn't put away all my things just yet."

Talos bless Brelyna for never pushing more than she needed to. She took a seat at the edge of the bed. "Well, I do have some good news, if you'd like to hear it before we go off to dinner."

"Good news?"

That's when Onmund noticed a pretty blue box in her hand, lovingly wrapped up with a silver ribbon. "Our favorite person- that's Alrek, by the way- said he felt really, really terrible about what happened." Brelyna's expression was so smug and so pleased with herself that Onmund had to fight a chuckle.

"He… he said that?"

"He was looking for you, but Muthsera Fancy-Pants couldn't figure out which room was yours, so he came looking for me. He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry and got you these anyway."

Brelyna handed him the box, now so small in Onmund's much larger hands. "What is it?"

"Wanna open it and find out?" He smiled at the playfulness in her voice. Though Onmund had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. What could Alrek have wanted to give so badly that he sought to bother Brelyna about it?

He tugged the silver ribbon loose and pulled the lid open. Inside were balls of chocolates, each with different toppings and flavors, wrapped in delicate paper that seemed to flutter in the air.

Onmund balked. "Where'd he even get this all the way here?"

Brelyna shrugged. "With the kind of money he has? I'd say it wouldn't be too hard to manage."

Of course. HIs wealth. Onmund couldn't imagine that sort of power. To be able to flash a bit of gold and get whatever you desired.

"Oh, what's that?"

He heard the gentle tap of a card fall to the floor. Placing the box of chocolates on a nearby table, he bent down and read the message aloud.

Meet me at the observatory after dinner. - A

Something stirred in Onmund then. Something strange, yet exciting, frightening yet desirable. He wanted to meet? Alone? Gods…This felt…familiar. "W-what should I do?"

"You don't have to do anything he says," Brelyna cautioned. She had history with him, didn't she? She'd have better advice. "If you don't want to go see him, you don't have to. And if he finds me again to bother me about it, I'll send him away."

Onmund sat down beside Brelyna, offering the chocolates to her as he took a bite out of one. Rich. Dark. Bitter… yet sweet? Flavors he had never experienced before. It made his tongue ache for more, and it was pure restraint that stopped him from taking the entire box and downing it all in one go.

"How well do you know Alrek?" He asked, and immediately regretted it. It felt awkward to ask, and he rushed to explain himself, "I mean, you said you studied with him?"

"I'll admit, I just know him as… well, I wouldn't call him a rival, but my parents always made comparisons."

"I know how that feels."

Brelyna sighed. "It's not his fault, I mean…" She leaned forward, taking careful bites out of the offered desert, "My magic manifested so much later than everyone else in my family, so he had plenty of time ahead of me. But it made me mad every time my mother said something like," and here, she mimicked an unapologetically Dunmeri accent, "How dare you call yourself a Telvanni when that Allard boy has completed all his courses before you!"

There was no humor in the mockery. Onmund patted Brelyna on her shoulder, as the wisp abandoned the wardrobe to nest in her lap. "That's…I'm sorry."

"It's not Alrek's fault, but… every time I saw him during Tolfdir's lecture I couldn't help but think that it should've been me up there."

Onmund frowned. "I know what that's like."

"Really?"

He nodded. "My parents wanted me to be a farmer. Or a hunter. Y'know, something practical. Something Nordic. They'd point out to the other boys in my village and say you should be more like Olaf Bone-Head, he can swing three oxen with his left hand alone."

Brelyna laughed at the mimicry.

"A lot of people in my village ended up making fun of me. Or, you know, hating me. If they weren't trying to humiliate me, they were trying to hurt me. My mother eventually just told me to keep to the house. She wouldn't let me go out on my own without her, not even to the markets."

"Oh gods, Onmund, I'm so sorry."

Onmund shrugged, "That's all behind me now." He bumped her playfully with his elbow, "I've got you, I've got J'zargo…"

Brelyna gave a playful smirk, confidence returning, "And maybe Muthsera Alrek?"

Onmund blushed.

"I don't hate him, you know," Brelyna said gently, "If he makes you happy, I'll only make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt you."

"Really?"

"He's just annoying, but I know his family- they're not underhanded or anything like that. My family, House Telvanni, are close to them. We'd know."

"Excuse me?" The familiar purr of a Ta'agra accent dragged them both out of their conversation. J'zargo folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot against the floor. "Have we all forgotten about dinner? This one is starving and finds you two gossiping? Without J'zargo?"

Brelyna laughed and offered the box of chocolates to J'zargo, "Here, our favorite Breton in the whole wide world gave Onmund some chocolates."

"Hmph! Perhaps it is the only useful thing he has done since his sorry introduction," J'zargo managed through a mouthful of sweets.

"C'mon, let's head up to the hall before the seats are all taken."

-xxx-

"-I said no thief-chasing!"

"Well someone's got to do something, or are we just going to let those thieves come back another time and take more?"

Svana had no idea what she had stepped into. Before her were two siblings, arguing, oblivious to the world around them. At first she politely waited by the door, hoping to intervene during a pause.

But they kept going at it.

"It's dangerous! For Divines' sake Camilla, do you even hear yourself sometimes?"

And her patience began wearing thin.

"Oh, excuse me, Lucan, I suppose you have a better idea?"

That was when Svana very deliberately, and very loudly, coughed.

The two of them, Lucan and Camilla, blinked at her, surprised by her sudden presence.

"Oh! Uh… a customer!"

"Oh, my…"

Svana rolled her shoulders and shifted the axe in her belt. "Are you open?"

"Well, despite what you may have overheard," Lucan cast an angry glance at Camilla, "The Riverwood Trader is open for business!"

"Thought you got robbed." Svana deadpanned.

Lucan sputtered, "W-well, we did, but not to worry! Plenty of things for sale still! Robbers were only after one thing."

Svana waved him off before he could continue. "Listen, I don't have much money for supplies, but… how much could I get for this?" Svana held out the dagger she had made earlier from Alvor's forge, now polished, finished and made presentable.

He eyed it skeptically. "Well…"

Camilla butted in, "What do you need supplies for?"

"I came from Helgen."

Camilla looked to Lucan, whose own surprise matched his sister's. "You came all the way there? Didn't a fire break out and burn the whole place to the ground?"

"It was a dragon," Svana said curtly.

The two siblings only blinked in utter confusion and disbelief. Svana realized her words too late. How could she prove it? All she had was her word, and a stranger's word at that.

"Or, I dunno, maybe the soldiers burned the place to the ground, what do I know? All I know is that I saw fire, and where there's smoke, there's trouble."

Thankfully, the siblings bought the new story without question.

"That's why I need to get to Whiterun, I need supplies to make the trip," Svana looked to them both, suddenly aware of the weight of the favor being asked of her, "I need to send word to the Jarl, so he could at least do something about it."

It was a futile effort, but what could anyone do? Not as if Svana had a better idea.

"Oh for Mara's love, Lucan, if she's going to be warning the Jarl about trouble, I'm sure we could offer something for that pretty blade."

Lucan wrinkled his nose, but there was no denying the gravity of the situation. "Well… we can probably spare some supplies. Not like travellers come through here often anymore."

"There we go," Camilla smiled smugly, relishing in the fact that she was, no doubt, right once again.

"-The road to Whiterun's fairly quiet, but with all this talk of soldiers, wouldn't hurt to have something to keep yourself safe." Lucan presented two bottles of red potion, jars of salve, a roll of bandages, and packaged dried meat. "It's all I can spare."

Truthfully, Svana wasn't even sure if this was more than enough. When she set off to find Onmund, she left with little more than the clothes on her back. But she wasn't about to turn away any kindness, not if it meant keeping her safer on her travels.

"Thank you," she said, pushing the dagger to Lucan and taking the rest of the offered items into her pack.

"Do you know the way to Whiterun?" Camilla asked, "Are you from around here?"

Svana shook her head, "I was just told to take the road north."

"I'll show you the wa-"

"No." Lucan stamped his foot on the floor. "Absolutely not."

"I'm just showing her the way."

Lucan folded his arms across his chest.

"It's just to the edge of town!"

Lucan's mouth pursed into a thin white line before he finally relented. "Fine, but only to the bridge."

Svana had to hand it to Camilla, the woman certainly knew how to get what she wanted.

"Come on, let's get you going then, hmm?" Camilla linked her arms in Svana's and the two walked out into the cool evening air. The other villagers were preparing for the night, with lanterns being lit outside of homes and along the narrow road.

If Svana closed her eyes, she could pretend she was walking Elsie back home from the blacksmith's.

"Soldiers and fires are serious business, you think the Jarl would help?" Camille asked idly.

Svana could only offer a shrug, "I dunno. Maybe? It's something, isn't it?"

Camilla hummed.

The village wasn't very big, little wonder how everyone knew each other, Svana thought. Even Kynesgrove was larger by comparison. Past the wooden houses, the women came upon a stone bridge that led to a fork in the road.

"The north road," Camille pointed helpfully, "There are plenty of signs along the roads, and it's pretty straightforward."

"Any landmarks to look out for?"

"Keep walking 'til you see the Honningbrew Meadery," Camilla advised, "Once you see that, Whiterun's not far off. And anyway, if you're really lost, there are lots of farms along the way that'd be happy to help, I'm sure."

Svana nodded. Alright, her destination was set. She began to take her first steps northward when Camilla stopped her.

"If you're going to warn the Jarl, here," And from her pack, she produced the dagger Svana had tried to sell to her brother, "I know you've got an axe, but a dagger's got more use if you're going to be travelling along these roads."

"But…"

Camilla wouldn't hear it, "You're doing us a kindness by telling the Jarl. We were worried when the soldiers and all this fighting would reach us. Someone's got to send word."

"Are you sure?"

Camilla frowned. "I heard about what happened at Helgen. I wouldn't want that following us home, we don't have any protection from something like a raid… and Helgen had huge stone walls."

Suddenly her journey seemed much more grim.

"It's the least I can do. Please, the sooner you get to Whiterun, the sooner we can all sleep peacefully at night."

"Thank you," Svana smiled, "Really, this is very generous of you."

"Don't thank me yet, go on, daylight's wasting!"

The path to Whiterun lay ahead, and Svana began her journey proper into the golden plains of Skyrim.