It was still dark when they fled the cottage. Throughout the night they had been plagued by strange happenings; the chains on the bed rattling, a person sobbing in the empty wardrobe, footsteps pacing when they had been huddled together on the floor. The last straw came when Thorald swore he saw half a woman's face, peeking upside down from the chimney and staring at them.
Within minutes they had packed up and left, leaving the door wide open behind them. It had slammed shut shortly after, but no-one turned around to confirm it.
With visibility reduced to nothing by darkness and fog, Nathaniel led them as best he could through the murky nether-sky with the glowing bottle of treacle. It was treacherous to say the least. They tripped over roots and stones, stepped into sudden pools and streams and at one point, Nathaniel's hand became entangled in thick, sticky strands that Thorald was quick to slice through before they retreated.
"What was that?" Nora asked, studying the remainder Nathaniel tried to wipe away on some reeds.
"Spider web," Nathaniel scowled. "We'd best be careful we don't run into any more of 'em."
"... Just how big are these spiders?" From her own experiences with oversized wasteland insects, Nora decided not to question the existence of big ones.
"The small ones are the size of dogs. The big ones, though? I've heard they can grow bigger than bears."
They stopped to rest when the sky lightened overhead, the fog turning pale blue before igniting gold and red in the sunlight. They huddled together for warmth as much as for comfort. None of them dared to sleep, though they were exhausted.
Nora found herself reaching for her wedding bands several times, only for her hand to close on nothing. Her heart ached each time.
When the sunlight burned the fog away, reducing it to ghostly wisps hovering over the waterways and pools, Nathaniel suggested they move on.
Everything was covered in a golden haze, and with the world veiled in its soft light, Nora found the swamps strangely beautiful in their own way. The waters shone molten, glimmering in the rays while the previously dark and severe trees appeared brighter, the pine needles and leafy canopies waving in the morning breeze.
The world seemed more alive.
As they travelled, Nora caught glimpses of elk and deer grazing upon the long grasses, birds fluttering between the trees and water fowl paddling in the ponds. Nathaniel stopped her when they reached a river to point out a large rock, which, when he tossed a pebble towards it, turned out to be a very large crab that chittered angrily as it scuttled after them, waving its claws.
"Mudcrabs," Nathaniel grinned as they easily outpaced the crustacean. "Not really a threat if you're not lying down, but they can leave nasty wounds, and the bigger ones can break your bones."
"How big are the bigger ones?"
"Not really that big," Thorald shrugged. "Probably reach your knees at most."
"Anything like crabs where you come?" Nathaniel asked, and despite herself Nora gave him a wolfish grin.
"Where I come from, the crabs are much bigger and nastier."
"How big is 'bigger'?"
"Try the size of a castle," Nora answered. "Huge shell on its back that's near impenetrable, and a head that projectile vomits acid potent enough to melt stone."
"That sounds made up," Thorald snorted. "Besides, why don't ya think of something more threatening than crabs?"
"How about deathclaws, then?" Nora suggested. "Giant lizards with horns and teeth that are way taller than you. They can peel open steel with their claws like a can opener, they run like racehorses and they can think on their feet."
"Yeah. We have dragons," Thorald countered. "They can fly."
As the three of them travelled and bantered back and forth, discussing the various horrors of both worlds, a man's scream shattered the peace, startling birds into flight as it echoed through the wilds.
The three shared a dark look before gripping their weapons, warily trekking towards the commotion. Nathaniel led the way up a slope, dropping into a crawl to reach the crest.
Thorald dropped down beside him as did Nora, though it was something of a struggle to crawl in the dress. When she joined them, she followed Nathaniel's glare towards a copse of trees in the near distance.
There, backing towards the trees was one of Nathaniel's giant spiders, dragging behind it a struggling web sac from which the screaming came. The spider was only a little smaller than Nora was, and she couldn't suppress the shudder of revulsion that chased down her spine.
"C'mon," Nathaniel murmured, drawing his axe. "We'd best not let the poor bastard get eaten."
"Is there a particular art to spider hunting?" Nora asked, rising as the men stood up.
"Yeah. Hack it til it's dead, don't get webbed up or poisoned," Thorald growled, drawing his own weapon.
"Simple. I like it."
Nora began to draw her own blade only for Nathaniel to hold his hand up towards her. "You stay here. Thorald and I have this."
"What? But I -"
The two Nords set off, and the look on Nathaniel's face brooked no argument when he glanced back to make sure she hadn't followed.
As the Nords picked up their pace, splitting to come at the spider from two sides, Nora felt bitter frustration bubble inside her. In the Commonwealth, her own people were doubting her before the end. Now, in a whole new world, they didn't trust her either.
Is there something weak other people see in me that I don't?
Danse had believed in her, at least. He'd always given her the opportunity to prove herself, and the guidance to succeed. She balled her hands into fists.
When the spider sighted the Nords, it immediately released its victim and stood taller, rearing up on its four back legs to hold its front legs aloft in a menacing display.
Nathaniel barked an order, and the Nords veered in opposite directions just as the spider spat a globule of venom. It landed harmlessly in the grass, and the spider hesitated a moment before scuttling towards Thorald at an alarming speed.
Nora's breath hissed between her teeth as it charged forward, about to overwhelm him - only for Nathaniel to swing his axe and cleave into the creature's back leg.
The arachnid stumbled, and Nora heard a high pitched squeal as Thorald struck at the beast's eyes. The spider had no chance to recover under the rain of blows. By the time the storm of violence ended, both men were splashed in dark ichor.
With their grisly work over, they advanced upon the struggling websack, and Nora decided she'd waited long enough. She stalked down the hill to join them, ignoring the tell-tale frown Nathaniel gave her.
He's not Nate. Stop comparing them.
By the time she joined them, Thorald was carefully cutting away the worst of the webbing. When the strands finally broke, the stranger was able to struggle free. A blonde youth, no older than twenty. He was dressed in plain leathers, a bronze amulet in the shape of an axe head visible over his jerkin.
He crawled backwards, panting and shivering. A sheen of sweat covered his bloodless face and his eyes darted nervously between them. His bottom lip quivered before he managed a hoarse; "Please don't kill me."
"Kill you?" Nathaniel arched a brow. "Why would we do that?"
"Then… you're not bandits?"
"Well, that's rude." Nora drawled. "I'm sure we don't look that desperate."
"N-no! No! Of course not! What I meant was- was-" his voice trailed off as Nathaniel crouched beside him, and reached for the amulet. The youth became bug-eyed, and gulped.
"You a Talos worshipper?"
"I- It was my Da's." He snatched the amulet from Nathaniel's palm, hastily stuffing it under his jerkin.
"That doesn't answer my question, milk sop."
For a few moments the youth seemed to war with himself, fear and frustration marring his features. Then he finally met Nathaniel's gaze and gave a small nod, projecting defiance in his voice. "Aye."
Beneath his beard, Nathaniel's lips curved in a smile. "Then I say well met, friend."
He seized the youth's arm and pulled him up as he rose, though the gesture didn't go as smoothly as intended. Nathaniel stumbled slightly, and shook his head as though ridding himself of a dizzy spell.
"You… you're Talos worshippers?" The youth stammered, glancing between them before pointing at Nora. "Even the Imperial?"
"I'm, ah… I'm not from around here," Nora said, raising her hands.
The youth frowned in confusion.
"Don't mind her," Thorald cut in. "Being out in the swamp's gotten her addled. But yeah, we worship Talos."
"You… You wouldn't be… Stormcloaks, would you?" The youth stage whispered.
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "What gives you that impression?"
"You're travelling through the swamps instead of on the road, and you worship Talos openly. You also fought like true Nords, so I thought-"
"Well, you ain't wrong," Thorald interrupted. "Me an' him are Stormcloaks."
"But… where's your uniform? Are you... deserters?"
"We're no milk-drinking cowards!" Nathaniel scowled, Thorald bristling beside him. "And stop whispering like that!"
The youth flinched and raised his hands. "I meant no offense!"
"Yeah, well offense taken." Thorald scowled. "We ain't deserters. We were prisoners of the Thalmor and we escaped. Now we need to find a camp and report back in…"
"I… I'm on my way to a camp," the youth said slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. "My Da joined the Stormcloaks a few years back. Ma said I was too young to join with him, but given how bad Morthal's gotten, she said it would be safer for me in the war."
"Morthal?" Nathaniel cocked his head. "Place always had a weird reputation, but not a dangerous one."
"It didn't used to be, if you stayed in town," the youth said quietly, picking away the last webs that clung to his clothes.
"How would we get to Morthal from here?"
"I thought you were headed for the Stormcloak camp?" The youth blinked.
"We are," Thorald frowned, his grey eyes boring into Nathaniel.
Nathaniel heaved his shoulders, and then shook his head with a sad smile. "You might be, brother, but I can't go back. I've had my fill of war, and all that it takes from you. Besides, they'd never let Nora into the camp, and I can't just leave her to fend for herself. I owe her my life."
"You owe me, too, y'know," Thorald grumbled.
"Aye. But I know you'll be fine from here on out. You at least drink mead."
"I'm still here, you know," Nora frowned, though there was no heat to her words. Instead she felt dread, and some sadness at their parting ways. But also relief. She wasn't being abandoned, and Nathaniel wasn't leaving. Yet, she reminded herself.
Thorald's shoulders slumped, but he gave them both a heavy smile. "You said you were headed to Whiterun before, right?"
"If that's where my people are, then yeah," Nora nodded.
"I told you my family's from there. If you would, I'd be grateful if you'd take a message to my mother, Fralia."
"Of course," Nathaniel said without hesitation.
Thorald took a deep breath, and Nora saw his eyes were growing wet though he held the tears at bay. "Tell her…. Tell her to suffer the Winter's cold wind, for it bears aloft next Summer's seeds. She'll know what it means."
"I'll tell her myself," Nathaniel promised, extending his hand.
Thorald gripped his arm and pulled him into a hug, slapping his back. "Take care of yourself out there, brother."
"You too."
As they parted, Thorald turned to Nora. "As for you, do what he says, drink mead and you'll be fine."
"I'm not helpless, y'know," Nora complained. "I'm the reason we got out in the first place, remember?"
"You are," Thorald smirked. "But you've still got a lot to learn."
The youth, Haren, produced a map of the region. First he pointed out the route he was travelling to the Stormcloak camp, and once Nathaniel and Thorald had talked it over, they turned their attention to Morthal. It was denoted by a sigil of three adjoined tendrils, each curling in on itself.
"It's not too far away," Haren said, pointing to the south-west. "If you make good time, you'll be there by nightfall. A carriage comes every second Tirdas of the month. If you want to get to Whiterun quick and safe, you'll want to catch it."
"Speaking of, what day is it today?" Nathaniel asked.
"Turdas, the sixteenth of Rain's Hand," Haren replied. "The carriage will arrive in Morthal in five days."
As Nathaniel counted out a share of their coin for Thorald, Nora sidled up to Haren.
"So, when you said Morthal wasn't safe, what exactly did you mean by that?"
Haren glanced at their surroundings, his voice hushed. "Something just ain't right in town. People are disappearing in the night, or dying under strange circumstances and the guard does nothing. Many more are getting sick, and the swamps were always dangerous, but now they're worse than ever."
"Five days is a long time to spend in a dangerous town," Nora frowned, hugging herself.
"I don't know what's going on back there, but there's one thing I can tell you." Haren reached up, and clutched at his amulet. "Sleep with one eye open, and pray to the gods."