In the morning, Norvosh loaded more of their items onto Rohah's horse, since the orc and his heavy armor weighed far more than Rohah, and the goal was to not kill their horses. Presently, they trudged along a dirt path. Norvosh estimated they would be at Dushnikh Yal by evening.

The orc tried to hide his injuries, but Rohah noticed how he grimaced when he had to bend or twist his body. Rohah had a bad feeling the burns were worse than he let on, but her own magicka was drained from last night, so she doubted she could help for some time. Norvosh had even foregone his armor to cool down. They were going to be in the stronghold soon, so hopefully she could finish healing there.

Spending her time worrying seemed to elongate their trip's length. Cool relief swept through her at the sight of Dushnikh Yal in the distance, almost dampening the heat of the sun.

Sentinels awaited them at the gates of the stronghold - two orc archers, bows readied.

"Halt!" one ordered. She had her arrow pointed at Norvosh's heart, and Rohah was keenly aware of her friend's lack of armor. "Name and business."

"Good to see you, Umurn," Norvosh said, throwing back his hood and grinning. The archer gasped.

"Norvosh!" she said, relaxing the bow's string and dropping the weapon. "I didn't recognize you. Give me a moment and I'll open the gates." She disappeared into the stronghold. The other orc archer looked nonplussed, but left to help her ally.

Norvosh glanced at Rohah, smiling. "That was Umurn, my friend's niece. She's also the daughter of the chief. I don't recognize the other woman."

After a pause, the gates creaked and were slowly drawn open. Norvosh led the way into the stronghold, still on his horse, Rohah trailing after him. Umurn and the other archer reappeared at their side.

"Are you here to stay?" Umurn said, a hopeful note in her voice. "Everyone's missed you and Ghorbash."

"I'm sorry, but… it's just a visit," Norvosh said guiltily. "So Ghorbash hasn't returned yet?"

"No," she said. "But we got a letter from him. He's doing well. Who's your friend?"

"My name is Rohah," she said, answering for herself. "I'm a scholar from Cyrodiil, and I hired Norvosh as my mercenary for research."

"You'll have to tell us all about it later," Umurn said, though Rohah could tell she was directing the statement to Norvosh. "You can go stable your horses - Khargash, help them unpack. I'll go tell dad!" She dashed away, surprisingly fleet-footed for someone her size.

Their horses were exhausted from the trip, and Rohah imagined they were grateful to finally have the weight off their backs. The three of them worked quickly, especially the orc archer apparently named Khargash. She was young - Rohah estimated her to be eighteen or nineteen.

"Are there any non-orcs in your stronghold?" Rohah asked her, interested.

"No," she said. "Imperial soldiers and khajiit caravans come to trade with us regularly, though. Stormcloaks used to try to trade with us, but stopped trying when they figured out we would only turn them away."

Dushnikh Yal was pro-Empire, then. Rohah was pleased to hear it, being an Imperial herself.

They had no time to rest; several orcs, all Norvosh's age, burst into the stables, laughing and shouting at Norvosh. Her friend was pulled into hugs and asked how he was and pounded on the back (which made Norvosh wince), and Rohah had not one clue what was happening or who any of these people were, but Norvosh had a big dumb grin plastered on his face, so that was good enough for her.

His entourage pulled him out of the stables, fast enough that Rohah had to jog after them. The archer named Khargash seemed to be in the same predicament as Rohah; she must not have known Norvosh while he lived here.

The dozen or so orcs led the way to a longhouse, which Rohah assumed must be where the chief lived. Inside were more people that knew Norvosh. Everything became a blur of surprised greetings and reuinitings, and Rohah was unable to keep track of everyone's names past the chief. She felt a bit awkward, standing alone while all the orcs were having a good time.

"It's good to see you back, even if it's just a visit," Burguk the chief told Norvosh, clasping both his hands affectionately.

"Good to see you too," Norvosh said happily. "We should talk soon - I have a surprise for you."

The rest of the orcs clamored for Norvosh's attention.

"Norvosh, did you know I'm a proper blacksmith now?" one said excitedly. "I can show you a mace I made - "

"Ghorbash mentioned you in a letter! He hopes you're doing well!"

"Nagrub has been doing well as my apprentice. He was just a baby when you were still here, and he took down a deer earlier today, all alone!"

"Oglub died a week ago," one said sadly.

Time and time again, Norvosh was asked to tell them his story since leaving the stronghold. He told a few stories Rohah hadn't been around for, people who'd hired him as a sellsword for various reasons. When he got around to Rohah's role, he described their failed retrieval of a Stone of Barenziah and their trip to Valthume, but omitted the dragon and his discoveries about his bloodline. Possibly he thought they wouldn't believe him. He also revealed he'd made Rohah Blood-Kin, inviting interested glances her way.

The center table was set, and a cook served food to everyone present: rich potato and venison stew with noticeable spice, roasted nuts that were meant to be cracked open and shells dropped on the floor, boiled cabbage, a medley of fresh fruit, hard breads and cheeses, heavily salted wild game, and alto wine. Rohah ate next to Khargash and across from Norvosh.

After greeting Norvosh, the tribal orcs turned their attention to Rohah. She answered a deluge of questions about Cyrodiil and her scholarly work. Rohah could not help but be reminded of Norvosh on their first few days of meeting; she now knew where the orc's curiosity of other cultures originated.

Rohah was distracted by Norvosh, though. With the focus of the conversation on Rohah, the fire seemed to have died in her friend's eyes. He had hunched himself down, looking feverish. Rohah began running ideas through her mind on how she could help without being rude to their hosts. Norvosh looked sick. Whenever the conversation pitched in volume, Rohah detected the tiniest of jerks in his head, as if each noise were a physical blow.

Unable to stand it anymore, Rohah jumped up and crossed to the other side. Before she came around, Norvosh sank to the level of the table and pressed his forearms into his ears, much like the time Rohah had seen him in the tavern. She reached him and touched his shoulder lightly, causing the orc to tense and look up.

"Hey, it's alright," Rohah said quietly. "Why don't we get some fresh air?"

Nodding mutely, Norvosh stood and left the longhouse. The scene did not draw as many strange looks as Rohah had expected, only understanding glances. She supposed the stronghold would know this about Norvosh too. Outside, it was beginning to be twilight. The twin moons lit their path.

They walked in silence for some time before Norvosh dropped his hands and shuddered. "My head is spinning," he admitted, wrapping his arms around himself, looking off-balance.

"Wait," Rohah said, stopping Norvosh. She reached forward and pressed the back of her hand to Norvosh's forehead. It was sweltering. "You have a fever. Who's the healer in your stronghold?"

"Murbul," Norvosh said, voice quiet. "Our shaman. Divines, I feel like I'm about to vomit."

"Let's hurry, then," Rohah said, anxious. "Lead the way."

Norvosh walked slowly, and Rohah became aware just how much riding the horses had been able to mask his condition. At one point they had to pause while Norvosh doubled over, but the moment passed and they continued onward.

They reached a small hut, the entrance barred with furs. Rohah held them open so Norvosh could pass, then followed in after him. A woman stood across from them, back turned, apparently mixing something in a mortar and pestle.

"Welcome back, Norvosh," she said, without turning to see who'd come in. Rohah was surprised.

"How did you know it was him?" Rohah asked her.

In response, she pointed at a mirror she'd failed to notice. Oh.

Norvosh all but fell on the sickbed provided in the hut, clutching his abdomen. The wisewoman, Murbul, checked his temperature just as Rohah had. Immediately understanding, she set to work crushing various herbs and ingredients together, giving Norvosh a flask of water to drink in the meantime.

The orc groaned and struggled to sit up, drinking messily. Water dribbled down his chin, but he seemed in far too much pain to care.

Norvosh leaned forward, pulling his shirt up and off. His torso was well-muscled and rippled when he moved. The torchlight illuminated his green-gray skin and casted soft shadows wherever the muscles dipped. Burn marks stretched across his body diagonally, travelling from his legs, up to his abdomen, and curling around his chest. They were an angry red, contrasting with his healthy skin, and when Norvosh clutched his pectorals where the burns were most severe, they turned an ugly white.

"Oh, gods," was all Rohah could say.

Murbul turned around, saw this, and cursed. "When did you get those?"

"Yesterday," Norvosh said, voice faint. "Last night."

"Drink this for the fever," she said, thrusting the brew she'd just concocted at him. Kneeling by the bed, she took a breath to steady herself. "The wounds are infected. Before I can heal the burns, the infection must be stopped."

"Oh, lovely," Norvosh mumbled, apparently not entirely present, but still retaining some of his good humour. He sipped at the potion she'd provided him.

"Wait," Rohah said. "I have experience with this. I used to heal Imperial soldiers in Cyrodiil."

The shaman gave her a curt nod. "Together, then."

She joined her at the bedside, and they worked in silence, pulling on their reserves of magicka. Rohah's hands hovered inches from Norvosh's chest, and she cringed as the magic worked, bringing the pus and filth out of the burn site. Norvosh's breathing, formerly strained, became gentle and slow. When Rohah glanced at his face, he had his eyes closed.

"Get a wet cloth," Murbul said, catching her breath after several minutes of intensive healing.

Rohah obeyed, soaking a rag. She sponged Norvosh's burns, cleansing the area of the infection they'd pulled to the surface. Both Norvosh and the bed became sopping wet, but the orc sighed at the cool water coming into contact with his burns.

Weary, Murbul stood. "Get to work on closing his burns, Imperial. I need to make more potions for him."

She nodded and returned to Norvosh, examining where the burns were greatest. Rohah tapped back into the flow of magic, urging the burns to heal. The only sounds in the hut were the hum of insects outside and the scraping of the mortar and pestle inside.

Rohah traced over a particularly nasty patch of skin, hands glowing. The discoloration faded and then vanished entirely. Broken skin knitted itself back together.

"Why," Murbul burst out angrily after a span of quiet, "did you let his burns get this bad? You should have treated him immediately." Rohah jumped when she realized the shaman was talking to her.

"I didn't know they were this extensive," Rohah protested. "And most of my healing training was for after the fact. Several days after the injury, usually. This is par for the course for me."

"Your training was obviously lacking, Imperial," the shaman said, sneering. "Prevention is the first step. Healing is meant to be a safety net when, and only when, prevention fails."

Rohah scowled, irritated that she was being told off as if she were a child. "I did my best! The burns were from lightning. Norvosh would be paralyzed if it weren't for me. I had to heal that before I could get anywhere near the burns, and my magicka isn't unlimited."

The shaman huffed.

"And speaking of that," Rohah continued tiredly, "I think I'm all out." Norvosh's burns were much better now, though. They would scar, but Rohah was confident that could be fixed, too, if she could learn how to work with scars. Her restorative training thus far had put the focus on keeping the patient alive.

"I'll take over and finish his healing," Murbul said. "Go tell our chief Norvosh will be in recovery for today and tomorrow."

Rohah stood and took a last glance at Norvosh, who was accepting another potion from Murbul, then exited the hut.