Nari lay warm and snug under the blankets, Horgeir's arm around her, her back pressed up against his muscular chest, his soft beard mingling with her hair, their warmth also mingling together, as their cloths mingled together in a disordered pile on the floor only a few inches from where Meeko slept, his canine paws twitching occasionally as he dreamed of chasing some prey across the fields of Skyrim. She looked across the small shack to the even smaller table on which she mixed potions for Horgeir to sell, small compensation for all his efforts these past months. The shack was weather proof because of him. She was clothed and fed and warm because of him. The nightmares were, at least partly, kept at bay because of him.

And she was about to depart because of him.

His initial description of the shack had been accurate: it was not much, but it was better than a makeshift shelter. It had also had two recent residents: one extant, and one departed and buried a short distance away. Narissa was hesitant to trust Horgeir at first, a reluctance that Meeko did not demonstrate for either of them. The dog seemed happy for any attention it was given, and it was while observing Horgeir and Meeko together that Narissa began to relax, and her predisposition to flight, that had been honed over the last several days, also relaxed.

The first snows, when they finally fell, were only a moderate reminder of what all residents of Skyrim should expect during the winter months, and blanketed a shack whose roof and walls were repaired and calked, a shack that now had a door and small porch and cooking stove, and sufficient fuel for heat and cooking for many days. Given Horgeir's profession it was not surprising to Nari that any work requiring wood was quickly and expertly completed, but she was quite surprised when a new mattress appeared almost out of thin air, as well as clothing that was both warm and well made, a rug that almost completely covered the wooden floor of the shack, several tomes and books with exquisite bindings and, importantly, a comb and hairbrush.

"My wife believes that I spend my free time, and my coin, on drink." Horgeir said one afternoon when Narissa had finally insisted on repaying his kindness with potions and elixirs. "It is simpler to allow her to continue to believe that, so I make all my purchases from a Khajiit trader who knows the value of discretion. He will certainly buy whatever you produce."

It was from that trader that Horgeir purchased potion flasks and bottles, as well as the potion case that sat on the shack floor beneath the small table, a case which was filled with potions Nari had recently completed.

It was perhaps natural, in the weeks that followed her rescue, that Narissa would begin to have feelings for this tall hansom Nord; he was, after all, the only companion she had, excepting Meeko who, once a bath had improved his appearance, was hansom in his own way. It was not only that Horgeir had rescued her. She learned quickly that he was a kindhearted, soft spoken man with a quick smile, a laugh that could not be restrained, and a habit of thinking before he spoke, which in itself was quite rare.

It was also natural, perhaps, that Horgeir would develop feelings for her. She was still young, and she was vain enough to believe that she was pretty. Her own bath, and the application of both comb and hairbrush, went some way to restoring that prettiness that was not quite beauty, but was not so far from it as Narissa believed. Her own smile and laughter complimented Horgeir's, and frequently mingled with his. He was easily a decade older than her, but had spent that decade, as well as the one before it, plying his ax, and his physique displayed the impressive results.

She had only ever had one lover, and that had been Garreth who was, in many ways, still a youth. Horgeir was a husband, and had been so for many years. The first time that she had taken his hand and drawn him back to her as he was about to depart the shack he had been hesitant. His hesitancy evaporated quickly as she kissed him and wrapped her arms around his muscular back. He was quite gentle, a gentleness that belied his muscular frame; gentle but quite skilled. There was an urgency in both of then that first time, a need for release. The second time (and the third) was much more leisurely, a slower pace that allowed them to explore each other. His presence next to her while they slept, which she seemed to be able to sense even while she was asleep, helped to keep the nightmares at bay mostly, though not completely. Those nights when she would cry out he would hold her and speak soft, quiet words to her; reminding her that she was safe, and that he would allow no harm to come within a mile of her.

She could almost have forgotten what events had led her to this shack. But the memories of the bodies of her brothers and sisters wasted no time in reminding her, as did Merid's cryptic words concerning her destiny, which occasionally found their way to the fore of her mind.

In the end, it was Horgeir who was brave enough to say what they were both thinking.

"I do not wish to part from you. But you cannot live in a shack in Haafingar indefinitely." He had said some days before. "The weather Gods have so far been kind, but that luck cannot last."

"Will life in Morthal be so much better?" She asked him. "I will know no one. I will have no home, and few prospects."

"My brother Jorgen lives in Morthal." Horgeir had answered. "His wife Lami is the Apothecary. She will take one look at the contents of your potion case and recognize your talents immediately. You will not want for work. And you will not go as a beggar into that wilderness. You will appear to be a respectable Thaumaturgist and Alchemist. You have sufficient luggage to convince anyone that you are not a penniless wanderer."

I am a penniless wanderer. She almost replied.

"What story shall I tell them?" Nari asked him instead.

"Any story except the truth," He replied, "not the entire truth, at least. State the simply details, omit those facts that would only cause you trouble."

"Those facts did not cause me trouble when I finally told you." She reminded him as she placed her hand on his chest and looked up at him.

"I knew your heart by then," He answered as he took her hand in his, "and I was already in love with you."

She looked at him for a moment before she spoke, and he looked back.

"You have never complained that I do not say that I return your love." She said.

His smile only partly hid the pain his eyes could not conceal.

"So long as you continue to drag me into your bed I will keep my complaints to myself." He replied.

The laugh escaped her lips as the smile formed on her face.

"You have never complained about that either." She said.

"No sane man would." He replied as he took her smooth hand with his rough one and softly

kissed her palm.