Morndas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E201
The cave ended abruptly. One minute they were following Ulfric through the dark, the next they were standing under a blindingly blue sky, pelted with sunshine. The girl snapped her eyes shut as her forehead throbbed, and a new wave of nausea hit her.
Taking back her good arm from Ralof, she used her hand to shield her eyes, squinting at the ground before working her way up to the bright landscape. There were lots of rocks and trees and bushes, and she could make out the remnants of a trail leading away from where they'd emerged. Ralof had said they would come out on the north side of the city, so the breeze blowing into her face had to be a northerly one. Twisting, she kept her hand at her brow and looked above the wall at their backs. The wind seemed to be holding a dark ash cloud at bay, shoving it south. That explained the sunshine.
Sometime while they'd been underground, the sounds of the dragon attack had disappeared. She strained her ears for the roar of fire or the beat of wings—or a bone-tinglingly deep voice—but heard nothing beyond the rustle of leaves around them. Either someone had killed the beast, or …
"I think the dragon's moved on," Ulfric said.
The girl gave up searching the sky. Ulfric looked troubled. He seemed almost to be speaking to himself when he continued. "Talos knows the soldiers were too caught off guard to take it down. If my abilities with the Voice weren't so limited …"
"There was nothing you could do, Jarl," Ralof said. In the better light, the girl could see that one side of his face was completely pink and his beard was patchy with dark spots. If he felt his injuries, though, he stood tall and didn't show it. "No one could have been prepared to face that monster."
Ulfric said nothing. He turned to the trail, crossing his arms as he scanned the area. After a moment he asked, "How far is Riverwood?"
Ralof released a whoosh of air that puffed his cheeks. "We could be there in an hour if we kept up a good pace. Coming from this side, we'll pass the Guardian Stones on the way."
The words "good pace" echoed in the girl's head. Ulfric and Ralof were hardy—obviously strong and likely used to intense physical exertion. She could feel of her own body that she was not only smaller, but softer. Running through the city had tired her. The wound in her shoulder exacerbated the problem, not to mention the hunger and thirst grumbling in the background of her brain. In the cave, they'd tread carefully and she had kept up with Ralof's guidance, but now he wanted "a good pace." She bit the inside of her lip.
It's only an hour, she reassured herself. You can make it that far. And sitting here isn't an option.
Still, she reached for Ralof's arm again so she might force herself to keep up, and this prompted him to glance at her. He did a double take.
"Shor's bones!" he exclaimed, pulling back. She went stone-still, afraid there was something wrong she hadn't noticed. Another injury? Fleetingly, she realized she didn't know what she looked like. Was she ugly?
Ralof's half-pink face grew worried. "You look like death warmed over, lass."
Oh. She sort of felt like death warmed over, so what did he expect? Twisting her mouth, she looked left to find Ulfric scrutinizing her with the same calculating stare he'd thus far reserved for obstacles. He clicked his tongue.
"He's right. Your lips are white and that bandage doesn't seem to be doing much at all. I doubt you're up for a hike."
She pinched said lips together, suspecting where he was going. It was one thing to be carried because she'd fainted, but it was another to be carried while fully conscious and aware of how burdensome it made her. Contrary to their impressions, she wasn't a little girl. Even if she was sort of little. And a girl.
I don't even know how old I am, she thought, wishing she had a mirror to gauge her face by. Mentally, she felt like a young adult, but her lack of height and stamina made it hard to be sure.
As if to drive her littleness home, Ralof engulfed the hand on his arm with one of his own. "We'll get you patched up in Riverwood. My sister is handy with a needle. Gods know she's had to stitch me up once or twice."
Needle?
The image of a metal tip piercing flesh and threading it with bloody wire flashed through her mind. She gasped, earning a confused look from Ralof. She returned the silent question by shaking her head and withdrawing her hand, glaring up at him. She didn't want needles. She had no idea how much that would hurt, and she'd had enough pain for one day. Surely she just needed a bandage.
Hands on hips, Ralof bent over her in bewilderment. "What, you don't want to be stitched up?"
She nodded vehemently. Ralof barked a laugh that was more incredulous than amused.
She heard the crunch of footsteps on dirt, and before she could protest, she'd been seized by two hands and hoisted up into Ulfric's arms. She let out a squeak, hands shooting out for purchase only for the left to give a fiery throb. She bit back a wounded noise as it dropped against her stomach.
"Regardless," Ulfric intoned, fixing her with a look that brooked no argument. "You're still bleeding and you're not walking to Riverwood." He hitched her up a bit higher. "Put your arm around my neck."
A little cowed (and not a little embarrassed), she couldn't quite muster a glare for him as well. She did as he instructed, understanding that it would alleviate some of her weight as he held her. That, and it seemed like a bad idea not to do something Ulfric had explicitly commanded.
Apparently satisfied, Ulfric nodded at Ralof. "We can take turns with her. Lead the way."
Ralof's mouth quirked into a half-smile. He drew his arm across his chest and touched his fist to the opposite shoulder. "Aye, Jarl."
With that he started off, Ulfric falling into step behind him. As the girl took note of Ralof's ready obedience, she wondered at the title he kept using. Whatever Ulfric was, this "Jarl" thing, the level of respect in Ralof's voice at every utterance suggested it was pretty important. Ulfric was the leader of an entire rebellion, with soldiers in uniform and everything, and people in expensive armor were afraid of him. He had to be rich or a politician—or both. Both would probably mean nobility. Hadn't Ralof said something about him being the "true" king?
That someone of such status was currently carrying her like an invalid made her even more self-conscious. Should he really be stooping to help some stray cat of a girl he'd only met that day? Shouldn't he at least delegate the more hands-on tasks to Ralof?
Maybe he feels bad for what General Tullius said at the block, she mused. She didn't think she'd ever forget the way he'd looked at her, furious and pitying and … had there been a trace of guilt?
Then again, I forgot my entire life before today. Who's to say I won't forget that too?
The thought came with a sinking feeling. This day, terrifying as it had been, was all she had. These two strangers were the only people she could reach out to. If she forgot them too, what would she do? Why couldn't she remember? How long would she be stuck like this, half a person, a body without an identity?
Her eyes prickled with an urge to cry. She sniffed and blinked the feeling away, drawing a glance from Ulfric that she refused to meet. He probably assumed her shoulder was hurting.
They continued like this for several minutes, the men only occasionally exchanging comments. Eventually the trail led them to a more distinct road paved with weathered stone, and Ralof confirmed that this was the path to Riverwood. They took a moment to switch her over to Ralof and started again without ado.
A few minutes later, Ralof started talking about the men they'd left behind in Helgen, as many names as he could recall. Ulfric knew them all, and then some. There was a distinct lack of emotion in their tones that surprised the girl, until she looked up into Ralof's face and saw the tension in his jaw. Between the two men, she supposed they'd probably lost a lot of comrades in the war. She wondered how long it took a person to learn to lose friends with stoicism.
They followed the downward slope of the road as it struck through pine trees and uneven outcroppings of earth, tufts of thistles and wildflowers lining the way. The scenery was jarringly peaceful. She couldn't quite put her finger on what was off until Ulfric asked if they had noticed the absence of birdsong. Had the birds sensed the dragon's presence, or fled because of the fire?
After some time, they rounded a particularly high jutting of rock and Ralof perked up.
"Look, down the road. The Guardian Stones. It wouldn't hurt to stop for a moment."
The girl peered in the direction he spoke of as Ulfric voiced his assent. The road continued before them for several yards before switching back and continuing in the opposite direction, the new path following alongside a rocky riverbank. But before the switch, in the joint between the two roads, was a raised stone dais. Three tall shapes jutted from the dais and tapered upward into rounded heads, each with a decorative band of metal wrapped around it near the top. As they got closer, she could see that the dais was overrun by moss, and half-eaten by surrounding ferns, but the three stones were almost completely unblemished.
Ralof set her down at the edge of the weird structure. He passed her, stepping up to approach the rightmost stone and immediately placing a palm against the carvings etched below the metal band. After a moment of focus, almost as if he were silently praying, he let out a slow breath. He lowered his hand and stepped back.
Curious, the girl inched closer. The carvings in the rock's face created the image of a man wielding an axe and a shield. Similarly, the leftmost stone showed a man in a hooded cloak, and the one in the middle had another holding aloft a narrow staff.
"Have you never seen them before?"
She looked up at Ulfric and shook her head.
Ulfric pointed to the stone that Ralof had approached. "That's the Warrior Stone. The carvings symbolize the Warrior constellation. Touching the stone is supposed to bestow the constellation's blessing, lending strength and battle prowess."
Hence, the reason Ralof had put his hand against it. The girl hummed in understanding and pointed to the center stone, tilting her head.
"The Mage Stone. It blesses magicka users with a sharp mind and increased ability."
A final time she pointed. "The Thief Stone. It blesses Skyrim's shady profiteers with a better instinct for stealth and backstabbing."
She frowned. The other two sounded so noble. Whose idea was it to build one for sneaks and crooks?
The corners of Ulfric's mouth twitched upward at the face she gave him. "I may be a little biased."
He offered her a hand and gestured for her to step up after Ralof. She complied, noticing that her legs felt more noodly than ever. Maybe she would have gotten too tired to walk by herself.
Up on the dais, Ralof gestured. "The Stones don't discriminate, if you want to touch one."
The girl cast her eyes doubtfully from stone to stone. If she'd ever learned magic, she'd forgotten it now, but she definitely wasn't a warrior. She didn't think she was a crook either, though if the blood on her sleeve was suggestive of her past then perhaps the possibility wasn't too far-fetched.
She didn't like that idea. No one her age and size could go out and actively hurt people; it didn't make sense. Right? There had to be some other explanation for the blood. And the prison wagon. And the thief in the wagon.
I can't be a criminal, she insisted.
Making up her mind, she strode by Ralof and put both hands against the Warrior Stone. She was met with silence, and looked over her shoulder at her companions. Ralof smirked, and Ulfric's eyes crinkled like he found her amusing. She scrunched her lips.
"Warrior it is then," Ralof declared. "Though I'd say you might be the shortest warrior I know."
She huffed and let her hands fall, the left beginning to protest its position. Ralof's expression broke into a full grin.
"No worries, lass. Just wait till you get a little taller, and then you'll be able to make good on it."
She got the urge to stick her tongue out at him and only just refrained. He was the one who'd bid her to touch a stone, after all. Apparently just for the sake of mocking her.
Ulfric finally came next to the dais and leaned over without stepping up, brushing his fingers over the Warrior Stone before extending both arms in a beckoning gesture. "In the meantime, warrior, it's my turn to carry you."