There wasn't much chatter for some time. Farengar became as steely as ever, Vilkas was busy, and Lynette was sapped of her usual cheer. She didn't leave her makeshift cot until Vilkas announced the rabbit haunches were done.

Lynette would normally find the scent of roasted meat delectable, but now, as she stood and hesitantly approached their campfire, her stomach turned. Farengar was clearly hungry, because besides Folkvar—who hadn't left Vilkas's side since he started, the traitor—Farengar was the first one to come and eagerly await the food.

Vilkas had split each rabbit and attached them to sticks when he cooked them, but now they were removed and laid out on four makeshift leaf plates. The first he gave to the drooling hound, who scarcely waited for Vilkas to set the food in front of him before he snatched it up and devoured it in a single bite. Even the tiny bones were no match for his strong jaws.

Lynette frowned. "Folkvar, where are your table manners?"

Folkvar gave her a guilty 'I did nothing!' look.

Vilkas chuckled. "I'm surprised he likes it cooked so well."

"If it's meat, he's not picky."

"Likely nowhere near as good as those steaks you were getting him, but better than going hungry," Vilkas mused, picking up another leaf plate, which he gave to Lynette.

She accepted it, but nausea erupted in her throat and she had to swallow against the urge to vomit as she tore a chunk of meat from the bone.

Another was given to Farengar. He presented better manners than the hound, but there was a haste in his mannerisms as he picked up the still-warm rabbit haunch and bit into it.

This only worsened Lynette's churning tummy, but she became distracted as she noticed Vilkas gave himself the smallest portion. Unlike the other two men in the vicinity, he modestly tore his food into pieces before popping a chunk of meat in his mouth and chewing it thoroughly.

He laughed again once he swallowed. "My cooking is edible but I do think Dragonreach's cooks would cry if they saw it."

"I've had worse," said Farengar, which was far kinder than she would have anticipated of him.

She should say something though, or offer her share, because Divines knew she wouldn't be anything less than a burden on their journey. But she found herself tongue-tied, fretting over the possibility of offending him in some way. Vilkas had caught their meal and decided this himself, after all, and if she insisted on giving back his kindness, that could be seen as rude.

Still, there was no way she was going to be able to eat this anyway.

"I can't eat this." It came off far blunter than she intended and she winced.

Vilkas didn't flinch, but there was a shadow of disappointment that befell his visage. "That bad, eh?"

"N-No! Not at all!" Her eyes widened and she scurried to correct her error, having done exactly what she feared. "I just… The whole Namira thing, thinking about eating the meat, it's upsetting my stomach."

Vilkas nodded, his face easing. "'Seems we'll need those berries after all. I'll get them." He hadn't even finished his meal but he was already standing—

"No, I'll get them," Lynette insisted, already making herself rise.

Wholly unexpected, two firm hands slid over her shoulders and urged her to sit back down, gently. It slipped so far past her defenses that she could only obey, shocked and warm all over from his touch. When had he stood? When had he come up behind her?

"No. I will get them." Farengar's authoritative voice tickled the top of her head, teasing the loose hairs as she sat. "Vilkas, you eat. Lynette, you rest."

He didn't move away for several heartbeats. Lynette shivered, all too aware of their height difference, the heat drifting from his body and mingling with hers like a warm potion, of how his strong hands seemed designed to hold her.

"If you insist." Vilkas reseated, but he looked like he wanted to laugh.

"Y-You know what they look like?" she stammered, cheeks ablaze, eyes boring anywhere else. All that remained of Farengar's plate was the leaf and perfectly cleaned bones, which Folkvar was sniffing.

He snorted and the delicious sound teased her ears. So close.

"What do you take me for? I know what snowberries look like." He moved away then and Lynette missed him instantly.

Vilkas picked up another meat chunk, but lowered his arm as he glanced at Lynette's untouched plate, and then Folkvar, who was inching towards it guiltily.

Lynette grabbed it and lifted it out of his reach, giving him a stern look. "No, Folkvar. You've had yours already." She knew he wouldn't be able to hear her, but the verbal scolding left her tongue on impulse.

Her rigidity lasted all of two seconds once Folkvar's ears flattened to his head and he lowered his belly to the ground, tail darting between his legs. It seemed her body language was enough to deter him.

"You needn't be upset with him. No point in faulting the fella for being hungry," Vilkas said, though not unkindly.

Nonetheless, shame and guilt sowed in her breast like bulbous pimples. "You're right." After putting the food safely on her other side, she reached out her hands in what she hoped was a gesture that said Come here, Folkvar.

Folkvar rose to his paws immediately, ears perked expressively, and came to her without hesitation. As he nosed his way into her embrace, she stroked his ears lovingly and planted a kiss to his furry cheek. In response Folkvar gave her cheek a slobbery lick. She giggled.

Farengar was already at the edge of their camp when Vilkas's voice halted him.

"You want me to save Lynette's share for you?"

He didn't even glance over his shoulder, but his voice carried with certainty. "You take it. Don't think I didn't see that pathetic serving you gave yourself. Our muscle needs to be in tip-top shape." And then he slipped through the trees and underbrush, not waiting for any response.

Vilkas tore off a sizable piece of Lynette's untouched haunch and offered it to Folkvar, putting a free finger to his lips in a shh motion. Lynette giggled again as Folkvar bounded over and accepted it greedily.

"Such a piggy you are."

Folkvar didn't hear her, of course, but the noise of his greedy devouring caused Vilkas to laugh.

Vilkas himself resumed eating, Folkvar trotted back over to her for more pets—which she obliged—and they fell into a comfortable silence, which gave Lynette space for her thoughts.

At least the food wasn't going to waste, and the storm in her gut was soothing. Snowberries sounded tasty…more so because Farengar was getting them for her. In spite of her reservations with their kiss, she couldn't help the swell of delight at how, well, sweet he was being. It was so different from what she was used to.

Not that she was complaining! Seeing the many facets of Farengar was wonderful, and even if romance wasn't in the cards for them, then she could at least be content with knowing they were good friends. Yep. Great friends.

…Who was she kidding? Unreciprocated feelings were awful. She dreaded the possible confirmation that she was a foolish, lovestruck girl who was falling for someone that would never feel for her the same way. With a teacher-student power dynamic, no less.

Ugh. Their would-be romance sounded straight out of one of those trashy novels her mother indulged. Though she would never mock her mother, she often silently judged her for the poor literature choice. And now she was living it!

She should feel worse about it then she did. Past Lynette was likely rolling in her metaphorical grave. But when she considered putting her feelings for Farengar to rest, it felt so wrong. There was something there she would regret not exploring, even if the result was pain. Better the pain of what if than the pain of not trying…right?

Leaves crunching underfoot snapped Lynette from her contemplation. Folkvar's ears remained unaffected, but his tail wagged, so the scent was obviously friendly. Had it been so long already that Farengar was back?

It was indeed the wizard who arrived, and boy, was he quite the sight. With no basket to carry the berries, she could see that he resorted to piling them in his robe fold. Red stains muddled the fabric, as well as the hands that secured them in place. There was even some on his face!

There was no stopping the giggles that burst from her, though she tried to smother them by covering her mouth. Farengar shot her a deadly look.

"What happened to you?" dared Vilkas, his mouth wiggling in threat of a smile. Clearly he had a deathwish.

"I got the berries," Farengar retorted, deadpan. But if Lynette wasn't mistaking the berry juice for it, his cheeks reddened.

He moved over to her awfully quick and deposited the berries on the empty leaf-plates, frowning so hard even his eyebrows drooped.

"You better eat every one of those," he warned.

Her mouth formed an O. "But there's so many!" He must've gathered an entire basket full.

"I have faith you'll manage."

She wrinkled her nose, but before she could protest further, he spoke again.

"Start eating. Now."

"So bossy!" she complained, although she hurriedly popped a berry in her mouth and chewed.

The flesh gave way to her teeth easily, releasing its tart juice on her tongue. It was sharp as a wintry breeze but also incredibly sweet. And she had no idea how hungry she truly was until she was shoveling one after the other, her watering mouth and rumbling stomach incapable of being satisfied fast enough. She'd forgotten how delicious snowberries were.

Farengar gave her several moments to work through a sizable portion of the snowberries before he addressed her prior statement. She didn't think he was going to give it the time of day, but alas.

"No, not bossy. I am simply worried for your health, my dear."

…My dear!?

She choked on a berry mid-swallow and started coughing, spurting bits of saliva and juice everywhere. Immediately she started flapping her arms like a spooked chicken, desperately trying to clear her airways, her face as red as the snowberries. Farengar aided her by patting her back solidly, his brow knitted in an indecipherable expression.

Vilkas grumbled, patting Folkvar, whose tongue hung goofily out of his mouth.

"Can't you two flirt in private? Poor Folkvar's too innocent for this."

"We're not flirting!" Farengar snapped.

"Uh uh. Sure."

This was too much. With a noise that could only be described as unadulterated mortification, Lynette buried her face in her hands. The heat in her cheeks was so hot, it rapidly warmed her cool palms.

All this blushing in a single day! She truly was a starstruck fool.

"Ignore him." Farengar sounded unusually bothered, but he pointedly turned his back to the Companion and sat beside Lynette, chin slightly elevated. "Finish your berries and then sleep."

Lynette wished to protest—in spite of how her eyes burned, she felt wired and doubted her ability to sleep—but the sun was almost set and the temperature was dropping. The cool air nipped her skin, even through her robes, and curling up beneath her warm fur cloak with Folkvar's cozy snuggles sounded almost enticing.

But then she thought of the dream and any desire to shut her eyes evacuated.

"We're going to take turns taking watch, right? I'd like to take the first."

Farengar's eyes narrowed. "Absolutely no–" But as he saw hurt already blooming on Lynette's visage, he stopped, sighed, and tried again. "I don't think that's a good idea. We want to resume travel at first light, and you need all the rest you can get if we're going to make Whiterun tomorrow."

Vilkas actually nodded in agreement with him! "The mage has the right of it. I'll take the first."

"Please," she persisted, scrambling for any nugget that would help her persuasion. "I don't want you two doing everything for me. And Farengar has to reapply the spell anyway, right? He can take over from me as soon as he's done."

She decided against admitting she didn't want to be a burden more than she already was, fearing it would make her sound as pathetic as she felt.

Farengar was atypically patient, shaking his head. "I do understand, but I must insist you sleep. We don't need you taking another tumble."

"But what if I have another nightmare? What if it's worse?" she asked, voice rising in hysteria and dread that was all genuine. It was her last card to play, but it was rooted in truth.

Vilkas scratched at the several day-old stubble on his chin. Lynette could see her fear affected him, and that he was relenting even before he spoke.

"I suppose we could let her watch for a few hours, eh? What say you, mage?"

Farengar grit his teeth and didn't say anything for several beats.

He really thinks I can't do anything. Lynette's heart fell, and she was sure he would shoot her down again, already bracing for the horrid night ahead of her, when—

"Fine. But only if you swear to wake me if you get tired, or if anything happens." A pause, as he sought her bright gaze with his dark. Softer now, "I'll know if you don't."

She nodded but was hardly aware of the action. His eyes were heavy and coarse, but there was something else there, something mysterious and unfamiliar. They reminded her of bitter chocolate—deep and dark truffles, but with some heat they would certainly melt and reveal a secret gooey goodness at the center.

Her heart went from sinking to fluttering, like a bird trapped in a cage, waiting for a key that would set her free.

For Farengar's part, he didn't look away, not until—

"That's settled then!"

Simultaneously they broke contact, shifting away from each other, staring anywhere else.

Vilkas didn't take notice, standing and stretching his entire spine, before squatting again to lessen the fire's flames. Lynette winced at the loud cracks.

Even when she sensed Farengar move away from her and begin setting up a makeshift cot, she couldn't meet his eyes.

What was that? What did it mean? There was no way she was the only one who felt it. She saw it in his eyes, that magnetic tug… But she possessed no answer for her questions, and she was certainly not going to ask them with Vilkas present.

While the men prepared for sleep—including reapplying the Siren's sleeping spell on Farengar's part—Lynette finished off most of the snowberries. Not all, for Farengar brought way too many and she already ate to the point of stuffed. But while their backs were turned, she snuck Folkvar the remaining. He happily gobbled them out of her palms and swallowed them without chewing, licking his lips after every bite, but nonetheless they stained his teeth and some of the fur around his mouth. Hopefully nobody would pay attention.

For once, she was lucky. If the others saw the berry remnants, they chose not to say anything. Vilkas sat again, across from her on the other side of the campfire, and began the tedious process of removing his armor.

She couldn't see Farengar and was too afraid to look his way, but she felt him come up behind her before he put her fur cloak around her shoulders. The simple act turned her chest to goop.

"Thank you!" she said, far quieter than she needed to, tugging it around her tighter. It would fend off the night's chill well.

He said nothing, as if it wasn't necessary, and moved away from her to curl up on his makeshift cot. He laid in a way that had his back towards her, which made her frown. Had she irritated him somehow? Maybe he was only tired, but… Well, nothing was ever so simple with him.

After Vilkas's armor was removed, he too curled up beside the fire, and in no more than five minutes she could hear his soft snores. Divines, she envied him for that.

If Farengar drifted off, there was no indication. He didn't snore, and Lynette found herself checking for a rise and fall of his chest, just to be safe. It was there, strong and reassuring.

And then it was her turn. She coaxed Folkvar inside her fur, securing him at her hip before snugly wrapping it around the both of them. In no time at all, Folkvar, too, joined the realm of dreams, and she was alone. Warm and full, but alone.

There wasn't much to occupy her mind as the hours ticked by. The forest offered an occasional sound of a wolf's howl, but far off, as they didn't dare approach a campsite of their number. There was an owl's hoot, so close Lynette was sure it was in one the trees near her, but it was too dark to find its shape.

At some points she found herself observing the Siren's still form, checking that she was still… Well, there. She breathed yet, but it was shallow, and though perhaps it was the shadow from the flames casting an eerie glow, Lynette was sure her pallor was unhealthy. What sort of damage could it do to someone, being trapped in a sleeping spell for so long?

She shivered, thankful she never had to find out personally.

At some point, just as before and completely unaware of when it occurred, Lynette unluckily dozed off.