In response to brodylopa's review (thanks!): Yes (without spoiling too much), there will be quite a bit of character development—hopefully for both Rayla and Lokir.

Sorry, this chapter is a bit heavy on non-OC. Chapter five picks up (and this time I mean it!).

When they finally emerged from under Helgen's keep, covered in dirt, sweat, and bruises, Rayla was ready to nap for a week. Her face was aching, her feet were covered in blisters, and she was sure she smelled like the bear that had just tackled her a few minutes ago. Lokir and Hadvar were both in similar shapes, although Lokir's condition was by far the most amusing. He still had half of his hair missing, and whenever he he turned too fast, the hair that was left would slap him in the face.

The moment Rayla took a deep, clear breath of mountain air, Lokir grabbed her and Hadvar and pulled them down behind a rock by their armor. It wasn't a moment too soon, because the giant black dragon suddenly swooped overhead, roaring one final time before flying out of sight.

Gods, Rayla really hated that dragon. But at least now it was over. She hoped.

"Is it gone?" Lokir asked, squinting into the horizon.

"Hopefully for good this time," Hadvar said, cracking his neck and standing. Rayla followed suit, carefully adjusting the hood she had stolen from the torturer to cover her face.

She would give anything for a bath. And a change of clothes. And some food. And a healing potion that could stop the blasted throbbing in her face.

"Ugh," she grunted, sitting on the rock that they had just hidden behind. "Is there any sort of settlement nearby?"

Hadvar nodded, shaking a few pebbles out of his boot. "Closest town from here is Riverwood. My uncle's the blacksmith there. We can—"

"Sold," Rayla said, at the same time that Lokir said, "Let's go."

Hadvar's eyebrows crept into his eyebrows at their quick responses, but he said nothing. Rayla could sense that this man probably wanted rest as well.

And with that, the grand quest for food and shelter began.

Riverwood was a smaller town than Rayla was used to, but when she first saw it, it felt like she was walking right into Sovngarde itself. She could see a sawmill nearby, and welcomed the smell of freshly wood that came with it. It sort of reminded her of her childhood home.

Hadvar led them directly to the blacksmithery, waving occasionally at certain villagers. Rayla did her best to keep her face down. If anyone here saw her bandage, they would start asking questions that she didn't particularly want to answer at the moment.

"Uncle Alvor!" Hadvar called to a man in a black apron, attending the forge.

The man looked up, and Rayla could instantly see the resemblance. Alvor and Hadvar shared the same nose and the same jaw, though their eyes were clearly different.

"Hadvar?" Alvor asked, looking confused. He took one look at his nephew's appearance and his expression took on a more worried tone. "Shor's bones! What happened to you, boy?"

Rayla snorted. Hadvar could hardly be considered a "boy." He was several years older than her, and she was twenty-four.

"Uncle!" Hadvar hissed. "Keep your voice down! We should go inside to talk."

"Who's this?" Alvor asked, looking around Hadvar to stare at Rayla. She waved awkwardly at him.

"They're my friends," Hadvar replied. "They saved my life, in face. But uncle, we should really go inside."

Alvor pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had just received a headache, then sighed. "Alright, alright. Come inside. Sigrid will get you all something to eat."

Finally, Rayla thought, so focused on the thought of food that she barely remembered following Hadvar or his uncle and sitting down at a long kitchen table. Later, she wouldn't even remember what the inside of the house looked like.

"Sigrid!" Alvor shouted toward a set of steps that led downward. "We have company!"

Rayla craned her neck to look (for she was sitting at the end of the table, and therefore closest to the stairs) as a middle-aged woman climbed the steps, wearing a simple red dress.

"Hadvar!" the woman said, catching sight of the soldier sitting at the table. "We've been so worried about you! We were just about to eat dinner, why don't you dig—who's this?"

Rayla shifted uncomfortably as Sigrid looked at her suspiciously. Rayla knew that most Nord women, once they were married, were fiercely protective of their husbands. While her intentions were far from anything in that area, she understood Sigrid's sudden suspicion.

"My name is Rayla," she said. "I'm a friend of Hadvar's."

"Why don't you take off the hood?" Hadvar whispered, nodding at the piece of leather shadowing her face.

Rayla winced preemptively. She knew that wearing a hood inside was rude, but she knew that seeing a woman with a bandage across her face was even more off-putting. Still, she wanted to put Sigrid's suspicions aside, and when the woman saw Rayla with a bandaged face, her threatened feeling would ease. Hopefully.

So carefully, and with no small amount of pain and discomfort, Rayla lowered her hood, revealing the bloody bandage that stretched across her face. Immediately, she heard Alvor gag but try to cover it up with a cough.

Sigrid instantly became much more sympathetic. "Oh, you poor thing!" she cried. Then, to her husband, "Alvor, why don't you find the potion we keep for emergencies?"

Alvor stood a little bit too eagerly for Rayla's taste. She felt a flash of insecurity for the bandage on her face and then dismissed it. She had plenty of scars and old wounds. What was one more, even if it was across her face? If nothing else, it would make the bards at every inn she'd visited so far stop hitting on her.

She smiled a bit at that thought as Alvor crossed the room and began rummaging through a large cabinet. After a moment, he withdrew a large bottle full of red liquid. Rayla had enough experience with healing potions to know that, for categorical purposes, alchemists put stronger potions in larger bottles. The one that Alvor was placing on the table for her should be able to do the trick and make her face stop throbbing with every annoying beat of her heart.

"Thank you," Rayla said, grabbing the potion with both hands. As Alvor began to speak again, she worked on popping the cork of the bottle.

"What's the big mystery?" the man asked his nephew. "Why do you look like you lost an argument with a cave bear?"

Hadvar sighed. "Well, I was assigned to General Tullius's guard."

Pop! The cork of the health potion came out with a rather loud noise, and Rayla smiled sheepishly when the family members stared at her for a moment. She hesitated as she stared down at her potion. Having been in her fair share of trouble before, she knew that the best and fastest way to experience a healing potions effects was to chug it as fast as she could. She lifted it to her lips as Hadvar spoke.

"We were stopped in Helgen," he said. "When we were attacked. By a dragon."

It was hard not to chuckle at Alvor and Sigrid's shock as she attempted to swallow the health potion. After her first swig, she could feel the pain begin to dissipate. By the time the aunt and uncle had recovered from their shock, she had finished the whole bottle. Gently, she placed it on the table and sighed in relief as she felt her wound knitting itself shut behind her bandage.

"A…dragon," Alvor said, sounding suspicious. "You're not drunk, are you, boy?"

Sigrid smacked her husband in the back of the head. "Let him tell his story."

Rayla snorted as she reached behind her head to try and unknot her bandage. She felt no pain in her face as she worked on it, which she took as a good sign.

"The dragon wrecked the place," she said, drawing their attention to her. She figured that they hadn't expected her to speak much. She cleared her throat and said, "A lot of people died."

And finally, the bandage came undone. She groaned in disgust as she felt the congealed blood from the wrapping come off on her face, and the cloth fell into her lap with a soft squishing sound. She heard Alvor gag again and rolled her eyes.

"Here," Sigrid said, handing Rayla a towel from near the fireplace.

Rayla thanked her and wiped off her face, glad to be free of the pain. Now the only thing she needed was a mirror, to assess the damage. She wrapped the bloody bandage in the towel and searched the room for a trash bin, but Sigrid told her that she could just throw it out when she went back outside.

"I need to get back to Solitude and tell that what's happened," Hadvar continued. "I thought that you could help us out."

"Of course!" Sigrid said, even as she handed Rayla a piece of bread.

"Any friend of Hadvar's is a friend of ours," Alvor agreed. "We're happy to help."

"Mmphmou," Rayla said through a mouthful of the best bread she'd ever tasted. She swallowed and tried again. "Thank you."

"But we need your help," Alvor suddenly added.

Rayla choked on her second bite of bread, and Sigrid offered her a canteen of water. Once Rayla washed down her surprise, she said, "What?"

Honestly, she hadn't expected anyone to ask her that. She wasn't against helping people—in Whiterun, she'd made a name for herself doing just that—but usually, people only asked her when she was wielding her good weapons and armor. But right now, she was an escaped prisoner wearing rusty armor with a scarred face. She imagined that she didn't really look the "helping" type.

Still, if Alvor was asking for help when she was like this, then it must be serious. In light of what had just happened, she imagined that it had something to do with the dragon.

"What do you need?" she asked, sitting up straight.

"The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose!" Alvor said. "Riverwood is defenseless! If you can send word for him to send whatever soldiers he can, I'll be in your debt."

Well. That was by far the easiest thing she'd ever had to do for someone. Whiterun was just an hour's walk down the road, though she only knew that from seeing Riverwood on maps and had never been there before. Besides, was she really just supposed to not inform the authorities that a dragon was on the loose somewhere? People deserved to know.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, we can do that."

"We?" Sigrid asked. "We're asking you." She sounded perplexed.

Rayla blinked. For the first time, she looked around the house, only to find that Lokir wasn't with them and hadn't been for some time.

A thief loose in a small town with no guards? She'd never heard of a worse idea.

She cursed and stood suddenly, saying, "I'll be right back."

Thieves. She hated thieves.