That night by the campfire was a quiet one. After Gwynileth finished rinsing the suds from her hair, she redressed herself and sat by the campfire with nary more than a few words of thanks for the meal that Lucien had prepared. It was a shame that she could only bear to stomach a few bites, because it truly was delicious.

By this point, even Lucien and Inigo had ceased conversation, though their eyes darted shiftily between both Kaidan and Gwynileth, who had almost tangible rain clouds hovering over their heads. It was obvious that each of them were still stuck by the lakeside, even if neither of them would admit it.

The crackling of the fire was not as much comfort as Gwynileth had hoped it would be. She chewed on the inside her lip and extended her hands forward, longing to draw some warmth from the flames, the way she could not do from within herself.

"Well, you three seem like very quiet people," said Inigo, after an extended silence.

Gwynileth smiled thinly, her crimson eyes flickering due to the dancing fires. "I'm sorry. You may have caught us on… a stressful night." Her eyes darted towards Kaidan with this last, who had not shifted at all in the last five minutes.

"That is all right. Assassination attempts are not to be taken lightly." Inigo's gaze landed upon the bread that Gwynileth had placed in her lap. His whiskers twitched. "My friend, are you going to finish that? Because if not, I would be happy to take it away from your vicinity."

The Dunmer's smile grew slightly as she handed over the largely uneaten loaf of bread. "It's all yours."

Inigo's ears perked up. "Thank you! That cheese dip is delicious. It reminds me of some fondue from the homeland I never knew."

Under different circumstances, Gwynileth would've loved to ask Inigo about Elsewyr; to pick his brain about tales of the Khajiit, about the warm sands, and how different it might be compared to Skyrim or Morrowind. But… considering what she had just gone through… she could not bring herself to ask the questions.

They would be better saved for another time.

"Inigo," said Kaidan's voice. It was edged and wary, the way it was whenever danger lurked nearby. "How did you come across us this evening?"

"I was climbing a tree, trying to catch this pesky bird that had taken my favorite dagger—probably because it was shiny—and I heard someone talking to themselves below me. They were reading aloud that contract you found in his pockets, and I thought to myself, 'Well, I certainly do not want to be complicit in someone dying today, especially if they are innocent.' So I followed the assassin as best as I could and waited… and eventually, he showed himself, I shot him with an arrow, and now I am here!"

Inigo seemed quite proud of this story indeed; there was a perkiness to his bearing that hadn't been there before. Yellow eyes careened over the three faces of his dinner companions—Lucien and Gwynileth were both smiling, but Kaidan was not.

"So you mean to say you just followed an assassin… because you might have had a chance at saving someone?" he said, his eyes narrowed.

The Khajiit nodded. "Yes. I have been trying to do good ever since I finally kicked off the skooma. I did not do a lot of good things before then."

Gwynileth knew what skooma was, though she had never been in its vicinity before. It was a diluted form of moon sugar mixed with strong alcohol; it was highly addictive, according to what she'd heard, and expensive too.

Leaning forward slightly, she asked, "You are trying to make up for some things in your past?"

"Yes." Inigo shuddered; there was a rippling effect all along his fur, never mind the steel armor that he wore. When he spoke next, his ears pressed against the side of his head. "During my last job as a sell-sword, I was partnered with a wood-elf to take out a nasty group of bandits. I was also trying to get off of the skooma at this time—unsuccessfully, I should add. My partner was a good person, but because I was having horrid nightmares from the skooma withdrawals, I grew paranoid and was convinced that he would kill me to collect the full bounty. And so I killed him first."

He sighed, and suddenly could not look anyone in the eye. "When I realized what I had done, I redoubled my efforts to be clean. And it worked! Although I still feel very guilty for what I have done, I have dedicated my life to becoming a good person; a hero who helps people. That is what Vornil wanted to be."

Gwynileth found herself staring at Inigo, utterly fascinated with how open and honest of a person he seemed to be. Here he was, after only an hour or two of knowing herself and her friends, and he was already content with speaking about himself, and his life and mistakes.

She, meanwhile, had known Kaidan for a fortnight—and she had not even told him what it was she had run away from.

"Well, you've already saved my life," said Gwynileth. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards upon seeing the hopeful look to her Khajiit companion's face. "I think Vornil would be proud of you."

"Thank you. That is kind of you to say."

Another silence fell upon the gathering of travelers, though this time it was not one filled with dread, but rather a pensive peace for thought. As she looked across the people whom she had been traveling alongside the past few days, she noted great intrigue and acceptance upon Lucien's face… whereas there was no small amount of trouble and concern within Kaidan's eyes.

She took a deep breath. In truth, Inigo had rather inspired her with such openness. In the spirit of continuing to deepen her friendships with those beside her, Gwynileth said, "That assassin that came after me… I suspect that he was sent by my parents."

Kaidan blinked and looked up at her, harsh lines of outrage on his face.

But it was Lucien who gasped dramatically and, slamming his palms down upon the log he called a chair, exclaimed, "Your parents? But… but aren't they supposed to be your biggest supporters?"

"If only they were," she replied sadly. A wistful curl to her lips met his gaze, which only served to startle the poor man further. "But they are one of the things I was running from, when I sailed here from Morrowind."

"One of the things?" repeated Kaidan, who had leaned forward.

Gwynileth nodded and took another deep breath. "The other thing I was running from was… my impending marriage. On the first day of the new year, without my knowledge or consent, my parents engaged me to a man that I simply could not marry: one who had hurt me irreparably."

Some late swallow-songs interrupted the conversation; they all glanced up to the sky to note a few birds with red feathers fluttering overhead, heading in the direction of the trees to the south. It was not surprising to see them, as the return of spring was upon Mundus once more.

"What was wrong with him?" asked Inigo. He took a giant bite of bread dipped in melted cheese before continuing, though this time with his mouth full. "Did he smell bad? I would not blame you for running if that was the case. I do not think I could marry someone with poor personal hygiene."

Such a silly remark made Gwynileth laugh despite the circumstances; she had only made the Khajiit's acquaintance for the last hour or two, but she was already quite fond of him. He was an unexpected breath of fresh air. Upon remembering the question he had asked, however, the smile faded away from her face until there was no trace of it left. "No… it was nothing so trivial. We were friends once. Great friends; the likes of which anyone would be lucky to find. And then… he broke my trust."

She clasped her hands together, striving to avoid the remembrance of that day. There was no way for her to know, but a sad shadow had cascaded over her very bearing—one that the other three were able to see. When Gwynileth looked back up again, she swallowed hard and said, "My marriage was supposed to solidify the long-coveted status of Great House for my family. And now that I have run away… I can only assume that my parents wish me dead, so they might begin to wipe clean the blot of dishonor I have brought them. I expected they would be angry, but to resort to this… to actually try and kill me, their only child…?"

There was a light shifting; it was Lucien, who had risen from his seat in favor of taking the one next to Gwynileth. He pat her atop the head awkwardly, obviously attempting to exhibit some degree of support. "I don't even know what to say. I can hardly imagine my own parents being so heartless towards me."

"I am glad you do not have to suffer it," said Gwynileth. She met Lucien's gaze, crimson eyes blazing. "There are few things more painful than the realization that your family, who is supposed to love you more than anyone else in the world, does not care about you. When they announced my engagement without even mentioning it to me… they showed me once and for all that they do not love me. They saw me only as a pawn to their own greatness: a tool to use and discard. And so I left, at the behest of my only remaining friend back in Morrowind."

There was a light sniffle a little ways down; both Lucien and Gwynileth looked over to see Inigo wiping his eye with a delicate claw. Upon seeing their gazes, the Khajiit cleared his throat in embarrassment. "I am sorry. I think there is, erm—a bug in my eye. Yes, that is it."

"Who is your friend?" asked Lucien, taking care to keep his voice gentle. "Where are they now?"

A cool breeze settled across the camp, causing Gwynileth to shudder. With a light sigh, she retrieved her notebook from within her knapsack; then she waved the others over.

Kaidan and Inigo both rose from their seats to stand over her shoulder. Once they were gathered, she smiled lightly and opened the notebook to the page upon which the gravestone was drawn, surrounded by lilies. Some of the charcoal had rubbed off onto the next page, but that did not bother Gwynileth. If anything, the slight smudges of exact detail almost gave the drawing more character… and Anya had always liked things that were slightly imperfect, anyway.

A chipped teacup; a flower with asymmetrical petals; things that others would normally overlook in favor of more traditional beauty. All of those, Anya would take and love, the way only she could.

"I lost her this winter," said Gwynileth. Her voice was ragged and yet full of warmth, because despite her death, she still loved Anya so deeply. "I did everything in my power to nurse her back to health when she caught ill. But there was nothing I could do—it was beyond my skill to heal. I have no formal training in Restoration magic; nor do I have much of an affinity for magic at all. The moment after she was buried, I set about planning my escape to this country. Once she was gone… there was nothing left for me in Morrowind."

A hand reached out towards the page; it was Kaidan, who was leaning close over her shoulder. She could smell the smoke and pine needles from him and could not help smiling as his eyes narrowed so he could read the name upon the drawn tombstone. He always had an endearing furrow to his brow when in thought.

"Anya," he said. He looked towards Gwynileth, who was smiling in an almost apologetic manner. "That was her name?"

Gwynileth nodded, her fingers trailing lightly over the yellowed papyrus pages. "Yes… I'm sorry that I used her name to introduce myself when I first met you. I did not know if I could afford to trust anyone."

Kaidan hummed lowly to himself, a light smirk crossing his lips. "It's all right. I understand."

"For whatever it's worth… I think she'd really like you."

There was definite surprise upon Kaidan's face with this—upon noting the sincerity with which Gwynileth was looking at him, however, he smiled. One hand was placed upon her shoulder; and then he elected to sit down beside her, instead of retaking his seat at the other side of the fire-pit.

Feeling warm and safe among her friends both new and old, Gwynileth sighed deeply and said, "I think that is all I wish to say about myself for now. We will continue our journey to Whiterun tomorrow, yes?"

"Indeed!" exclaimed Lucien. "I am ready for a three-course meal and a feather bed again, thank you very much."

Gwynileth glanced towards Inigo, who was scratching the back of his neck in an obvious attempt to avoid intruding. "Would you like to come with us, Inigo? We have been adventuring the last few days and intend to sell our prizes at the trading capital tomorrow. You are most welcome to join for however long you wish."

Inigo's ears shot up like a tightly wound tent-pole. "Yes! That would be very fun. I too have a few things to sell, and purchases to make."

"Then welcome aboard," said Gwynileth with a smile. It was obvious that Lucien was quite pleased with her impromptu decision to allow the Khajiit to join their little adventuring party—and when she glanced at Kaidan, she was surprised to note that he was accepting of it too.

As if he could feel her surprise, Kaidan chuckled lowly and said, "He's already saved your life once when I was none the wiser to the danger. He'll be good to have around."

The fire was dying down again, but no one seemed bothered by this. The conversation had reached a natural lull, and the stars still provided enough light to see within a decent enough distance. Figuring that it was high time to get some rest, Gwynileth retrieved her bedroll and began rolling it out upon the ground: close enough to absorb the fading heat, but far away enough to avoid the sparks and sizzling embers. She lay down upon it, gazing up at the stars—her view was blocked by someone standing above her.

Gwynileth propped herself on her elbow to see that it was Kaidan. She smiled at his approach and asked, "Something the matter?"

"Just wanted to see how you were holding up," he replied. He paused for a moment, as if thinking… and then added, "And I wanted to thank you, for telling us a little more about yourself. I've wanted to get to know you, but I also didn't want to pry."

Something warm appeared in the recesses of her chest; it was as though the fire had relocated from the pit into her heart. "I'm doing all right. A little scared, still. I don't think it's really… sunk in, yet. That someone wants me dead."

Her lips pursed at these last words. Saying it aloud and really thinking about them certainly wasn't helping to calm her nerves.

Kaidan seemed to notice this. He sat down next to her again, mimicking her posture by leaning back and propping himself on his elbows as well. "We'll find out who sent those assassins after you. And then we'll take care of them, so you don't have to worry anymore."

He sounded so confident… Gwynileth would be lying if she said she wasn't envious of that. Her eyes located the stars above, many of which were varying shades of blue and purple: cool colors that were not often seen in Morrowind. "How can you be so sure?"

"Hunting things down has been a special skill of mine," said Kaidan. "That, survival, and combat have been all I've ever known."

She could hear the way that his voice grew softer, as if in an attempt to prevent either Lucien or Inigo from overhearing him. This would not surprise her if that was the case, considering how private of a person Kaidan had been over the last few weeks just as she had been. Hoping the question was not out of place, Gwynileth asked, "Surely you did not learn all of this on your own, did you?"

Kaidan shook his head. "No. Brynjar was the man who raised me. When other children were learning how to read books, I was learning how to handle a sword. We never stayed in one place for long; I think I've seen more of Tamriel in two years than most people do their whole lives."

Crickets had begun their choruses by this point—light snoring from the other side of the fire-pit could be heard. Seeing as Lucien did not snore, that meant it was likely Inigo; Gwynileth was instantly jealous of how quickly he was able to fall asleep.

She exchanged looks with Kaidan upon hearing the Khajiit grumble something incomprehensible; the two of them exchanged subdued snickers before turning their gaze back towards the skies.

"You told me before that you returned to Skyrim hoping to find out who you were," said Gwynileth without looking at her friend.

"Aye, that I did. I have no Voice of the Emperor, no Dragonskin, no natural resistance to the frost… all I have is this."

With these words, Kaidan retrieved the great-sword that was more often than not strapped across his back. He carefully removed the weapon from its sheath and held it out for Gwynileth to take.

There was barely enough light for her to notice them, but now that she was looking closely, she could see: upon the blade, inscribed in the metal itself were strange runes of a language she had never before seen. And yet… the letters were almost familiar somehow, as though she had seen them long ago.

Her fingers trailed along the smooth inscription, and her lips twisted in concentration as she tried in vain to make any sense of the language. "This belonged to your mother, yes?"

"It did," said Kaidan with a nod. "But I have no idea what these words say. Brynjar said he was going to tell me everything when I turned fourteen years of age… but one afternoon when I was twelve, I woke up to find him gone. All he had left behind was a simple dagger, an empty water-skin, and a flint. I tried to find him for days, and never could. From then on, I was on my own."

Gwynileth nearly hiccupped in distress at this tale. "Twelve years old… but you were still a child!"

Kaidan's lips twisted into a wry smirk. "Perhaps, but I was a child that knew how to take care of myself. If I can just find a way to translate the words on this sword, I might have a clue as to where my mother was from… where I might be from."

She smiled and handed back the sword. Within only another moment, it was put back in a secure place. "Maybe we'll find a lead sometime during our travels. If I can help you with this in any way, Kaidan, I will."

A few torchbugs flew past their faces, their luminescent green glow just enough for Gwynileth to see the grateful smile upon Kaidan's face. Something wriggled in the depths of her stomach as he looked at her with such gratitude and unbridled care, the likes of which she had not seen from anyone since Anya had passed away.

"Thank you," he said. Though the words were simple, his voice was not.

She smiled and lay back down, allowing her head to rest upon the straw that constituted as a pillow. The stars were so bright and beautiful…

Kaidan rose to his feet—just before she could ask where he was going, he stated, "I'll keep watch tonight. Don't worry, Gwyn. I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

The words provided more comfort than she had been expecting. With a slow smile, she nodded and replied, "I trust you," before closing her eyes and attempting to drift off into sleep.

Hey, thanks for being patient with my slow updates recently. :) My workplace was really chaotic for a while, but I've finally put in my two weeks', although I'm also moving in December an hour away from where I am now, so I can't promise regular updates just yet. I'll do my best to get back into a semblance of a schedule in January, though!

Thanks for reading and supporting the story. In case anyone wants to know how many words I anticipate this being, I'm guessing around 100k or 125k. I've always preferred writing longer fics to shorter ones, in case that isn't evident from my profile lol.

Anyway, enough about me. Thanks as always, guys. Have a good one and take care of yourselves. :)