(AN: So it turns out there are still people reading after all these years: thank you very much. I'm sorry to say aside from my work, my condition has reared its ugly head again. Hopefully now I'll be able to do some more work with my writing.)

(I'll try not to give away any secrets in the notes, so just read and enjoy.)

The First Victory

True to the hooded woman's boasting, the spell she had cast on them caused them to travel faster, farther, and to tire less, than normal. Already they could see before them, looming up like a mighty silver wall, the white peaks of Mount Anthor rising up before them. The golden tundra was starting to grow damper the farther north they went, until at last they came upon a place where the snow always remained: this was the southern border of the Pale Hold.

Here the little company came to a halt, and Sigrun looked at the strange woman with a quizzical expression on her face.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Hmm?" the stranger returned. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to make up your mind. We're here, aren't we?"

Sigrun blushed. "Well, I...I don't know. I didn't expect to get this far."

"You mean you don't know where your friend is?" the stranger asked in return. "By the Eight, you had no business leaving home if you're this clueless!"

"You know, if you keep up the snide remarks, I might just reconsider taking you along with us," Sigrun gently threatened.

"Indeed?" asked the stranger. "And where would you be without me? Still huddling half-alive in a lean-to fort made of sticks, hiding from the hold guards: that's where. You need me."

"Oh, I need you, is that right?" Sigrun returned. "And why would I need someone who loves the Empire?"

"You will soon see the error of your ways, my friend."

"Don't call me that. We barely know each other, and you haven't earned the right to be my friend yet."

The stranger laughed. "One would think that I'd be near that, after giving you so much help. Oh, you Nords are absurd: you'd complain without magicka and then complain with magicka!"

Sigrun did not answer; in her mind, she made a mental note that the stranger had said 'you Nords', rather than kinsman, kinswoman, or kinfolk. Likely nothing, but it meant that she was likely not a Nord.

"Not to mention," she continued, oblivious that her companion wasn't listening to her. "That I could find your friend as easily as being asked to. Hmph! But with this kind of attitude..."

"No, wait!" Sigrun interjected. "I...I'm sorry, okay? I came out here, looking to help, and everything's gone wrong." She sighed. "I appreciate the help."

"It's about time."

"Now what's this about finding Jonna?"

"I can find her for you," the stranger said. "Much easier than poking around in the snow, hoping not to disturb a bear or a troll...or a giant." With that, the stranger dismounted from her horse, and began casting an Illusion spell. To Sigrun's surprise, and the disdain of Erik and Roggi, bringing up the rear from behind, two glowing pale blue objects materialized in the hooded woman's hands: one looked like a mirror and the other a ball. With one hand, the stranger set the ball hovering across the snow, while the other rested underneath the hovering mirror.

"What are you doing?" Sigrun asked.

"A simple Illusion," the stranger answered. "It can be tricky if going places I cannot see, but we're in the open here...and I'm skilled enough to talk while channeling."

"Lucky you," grumbled Erik from behind. The stranger said nothing, but continued to weave her magical spell, maintaining the orb in her left hand.

"You know," she wondered aloud. "It is said that the giants were the first ones to see the Deep Elves: the vanished ones, the Dwemer. They called them 'Dwarves', because they were shorter than them. I wonder why the Chimer, another race of mer, continued to call them 'Dwarves' in their Tribunal scriptures. Perhaps they hated them so because the Dwarves feared no god, neither dead nor living: and because the Chimer outlasted them, they created the narrative after their own prejudices." She chuckled. "A dwarf does sound a bit more diminutive than 'deep elf', don't you think?"

"Uh, why does any of this matter to you?" Sigrun asked.

"I've journeyed around," the stranger said. "I've seen much more of Tamriel than you have, and I can say in all honesty that the world revolves around Morrowind. In no other place had the heart of a dead god fallen to our world."

"We're not in Morrowind," Roggi stated. "An' we wouldn't be welcome even if we were there already."

"And?"

"And folk ain't exactly keen on bein' treated like horse-shit."

"Does that matter?" the stranger asked with a chuckle. Then she turned her hooded head back to the mirror. "Ah, there she is. Just go forward until you see the cliff wall, then dig in the snow a little to the right, and you'll find her."

Sigrun nodded, then went the way she was directed; Roggi took one look at the hooded stranger and then ran after her. Erik made as though he would follow her, but then suddenly felt himself come to an abrupt stop. It seemed as though he had stepped in front of an invisible wall that barred his way.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked the stranger.

"After them," he said, turning about to the hooded one. "Now can you let d..." Suddenly his voice faded, and his eyes widened as he saw that he was speaking but no sounds were escaping his mouth. He reached up to his throat in horror.

"There, that's better," she replied. "I'm trained in more than Illusions and Alterations, I'll have you know. Now that I have your attention, it's time for you to listen."

Erik reached out to take her by the throat, but suddenly gasped as his left hand vanished from off his wrist. There was no blood, no pain, no severed limb lying bloodlessly or otherwise upon the ground: his whole hand simply vanished.

"I know what's inside your heart, little man," she said. "I know what it is you feel when you look at her. Trust me, I know: all you men are exactly alike, always wanting one thing."

Erik shook his head in protest, but she merely mumbled at him in mockery of one who had lost their tongue.

"You sicken me," she replied. "But your devotion has its uses. Protect her, even at the cost of your own life: make sure that no harm comes to her...for the present. If you allow harm to befall her...or if you let your lusts bring her to harm, then I will take more from you than your hand and your voice. And in the end, you will beg for death and I will deny you that."

The hooded one approached him, and slightly pulled back her hood to reveal an iron mask concealing the face and all features that might give away what she was.

"You will not speak of this to anyone else," she said. "Not to that knot-bearded ape, and especially not to her. For if you do, I will do something much worse to you: something that will break your soul at the last." With that, she covered her head with her hood and the mask vanished. "Now then, get up off your feet. We must rejoin the waking world, after all."

There was a pop, and suddenly Erik found himself breathing again and his left hand was upon his wrist again.

Ahead of them, Sigrun was making her way through the crunching, icy snow. Her breath came in a haze of fog before her lips. She looked this way and that, surveying her surrounding area. There didn't seem to be anything near at hand, but the howling wind obscured as much for the ears as the steadily falling flakes of snow did for the eyes. She sniffed the air: it was cold, crisp and refreshing. Only a faint foul smell was coming from the direction ahead and to the left. Looking there, she saw the orb had come to a halt before a cliff wall whose side was buried in a bank of snow.

"Why are we stoppin'?" Roggi asked.

"This is it," she replied. "Let's start digging."

Sigrun got down on her knees and began pawing at the snow with her hands. Roggi joined in, shoveling larger portions with his wide hands and powerful shoulders. By and by, the cliff face began to appear, going farther down into the snow.

"We should hurry this up," Roggi commented. "There's a snowstorm on th' rise, mark me words."

"Erik!" Sigrun called back over her shoulder.

Just then, a rather bewildered looking Erik came walking down the tracks they made in the snow. He seemed to be caught in a trance, fixated on his left hand.

"What's th' matter, boy?" Roggi asked. "Ye never see yer own hand a'fore?"

Erik shook his head as he was roused from his walking stupor. "Oh, it's nothing. What do you need?"

"Help us with this snow," Sigrun replied. Erik nodded and got down on his knees next to Sigrun, joining them in pawing away at the snow.

By and by, handful by numb-fingered handful, they pushed and pulled away more and more snow from the side of the cliff. It seemed that no matter how much snow they pulled, there was still more in their way. More than once, Roggi groaned in frustration at what seemed to be an impossible task. Just then, Sigrun pulled down a handful of snow and revealed an opening in the rock hidden by the snow.

With renewed vigor, they clawed away more and more snow; there was a long opening in the side of the cliff that led into a dark hole whose depth they could not tell in this light. As they dug deeper, they saw that the roof was so low that one could only access it by crawling on their belly. Suddenly they heard some stirring of dirt inside the darkness of the cave.

"Who's there?" a familiar voice asked.

Sigrun squealed. "Jons? Is that you? Hang on, we'll dig you out."

The three of them continued digging, until a blonde head emerged from the darkness of the cave. Sigrun reached down and took hold of Jonna's hands, then pulled her the rest of the way out of the cave and into the snow. They both hugged each other, gasping for air and chuckling with laughter as they lay one on top of the other in the snow. Upon realizing that they were not alone, they untangled themselves and rose back onto their feet.

"I thought I'd never see you again!" Jonna exclaimed.

"So did I," Sigrun returned. "But I'm happy to see you're safe and sound."

"For the present," Jonna commented, but didn't elaborate: her eyes were on the hooded and masked figure bringing up the rear.

"So?" the stranger asked. "I see you found your friend." There was a strange tenseness in her words.

"Who's this?" Jonna asked.

"A spell-sword," Sigrun answered. "She helped us find you."

"What's your name?"

"My name is unimportant," the stranger returned.

"Hello unimportant," Jonna quipped. "My name's Jonna, daughter of Jordis." Sigrun covered her mouth to hide the stupidly wide grin spreading across her face. Erik and Roggi chuckled to themselves. The stranger, meanwhile, made no answer: but the silence behind her hooded and masked face was even more tense than her words from earlier.

"Well," she said at last, her words sharp and disapproving. "Now that you've found your friend, what is your next plan? It's not wise to merely wander aimlessly about Skyrim, hoping for someone to come along and hold your hand."

Just then, there was a loud grumble. All eyes turned northward: from out of the snow there came a massive snow troll, with arms almost as long as its whole body. Four of the five of them turned about and drew their weapons: Erik and Sigrun with axes, Jonna with her sword, and Roggi with one of their spears. The large beast came rumbling towards them, its long arms dragging its knuckles against the snow. Roggi braced himself and held the spear forward at the charging troll: the spear went in, but the beast, like a wild boar, thrust itself farther down the shaft, attempting to gore the Nord that had struck it. Sigrun and Jonna struck together, with the taller one hacking off the troll's right arm while the older - but shorter - one stabbed her sword into the muscles of the left arm, sending it into mad convulsions. Erik brought up the rear of the attack, driving his axe directly into the base of the spine. The troll fell dead before them.

Despite this quick and decisive victory, the stranger didn't seem to be pleased.

"That was hardly a skillful take-down," she said. "It almost had the straw-headed one for a moment. Maybe next time, you'll actually manage to work as a team."

"You're one to talk, miss unimportant," Jonna returned. "What, did you leave your sword at home? Or what kept you from jumping in with a spell or two to help us?"

"Ah, the sloth of the simple folk," the hooded stranger scoffed. "Always begging mages to fix all of their problems for them. Did it not occur to you that you weaken yourself by relying on magicka to save you at every turn? Or has your peoples' distrust of mages after the collapse of Winterhold not given you reason enough to not come begging for charms and hexes like simpering imbeciles?!"

"What?" Roggi asked.

"Be silent, ape," the stranger retorted. "I am not speaking to you."

"No, you're speaking to me," Jonna said. "And I'd lay off the insults if I were you."

"You do not command me!"

"If you think that we weaken ourselves by asking for your help, then why do you use magicka in the first place?"

"Do not presume to lecture me!" the stranger retorted. "I am not a child and will not be condescended to like one!"

"Alright, that's enough!" Sigrun shouted, raising her voice. "This is getting us nowhere. Jons, we can talk about this later."

"Or we can talk about it now!" she added. "What good is a sorceress who won't use her magicka when the need arises? What good are you anyway, unimportant?"

"Be silent! I despise your juvenile attempts to goad me into anger!" The stranger spoke with a haughty air, pretending that her last outburst hadn't happened. "As for my worth, I have just now proven my usefulness before you all." She turned her masked face to Sigrun. "You, you claim to be the leader of this little group; yet you cannot keep order. This I have demonstrated. You are weak and an ineffectual leader."

"Keep it up," Sigrun threatened. "And maybe I'll reconsider your invitation."

"So you'll send me away into the cold?" the stranger retorted. "Your mission will be doomed to failure the moment I depart."

"What do you mean?" Sigrun asked. "What do you know of our mission?"

"More than you do, obviously," the stranger scoffed. "We've spoken before of the state of Skyrim. And now that you've found your...play-thing..." Jonna scowled at the masked stranger, who made no reply but continued speaking. "...it is time to act and not bicker like children or Colovian statesmen."

"So what action do you have in mind?"

"I? You are the leader. It falls to you to declare what must be done for the party. Or am I correct? Are you indeed aimless as well as weak and ineffectual? You've spoken of no firmer goals than 'saving Skyrim.' But that can be done in many ways."

Sigrun paused, trying to recall all that had happened since her last separation from Jonna. It was vague, interspersed with dark and terrible nightmarish images, things she wished she could stop picturing with her mind's eye. Yet somewhere in the back of all that, she could recall something or other.

"The sword," she muttered. "We're on our way to Dawnstar to deliver a sword to someone who might be of help to us. A recruit for our cause."

"Ah, so you are not entirely aimless after all," the stranger's voice lowered down to a whisper, barely audible over the soft howl of the cold wind. "Gathering allies is a worthy goal; no battle can be won alone, and this one will be the greatest of them all. There is a more effective way to carry out this goal: one that would see you brought to a place of strength to which men and armies will flock to your banner." The mask turned away. "But it seems that my services are no longer needed."

"Wait!" Sigrun called back. "I...you made a good point. I...well, I..."

"Focusing on yourself to such a degree is a poor habit," the stranger said.

"I'm sorry."

"Save your pity, I have no need of it. Furthermore, it diminishes you in the eyes of those who follow you. You must never apologize: never accept blame for mistakes. For once you do, your authority will be broken and your judgment will be cast into doubt."

All the while, the men merely gazed at each other. They were unwilling to throw themselves into the midst of this debate, nor could they follow along with the stranger's words.

"Alright," Sigrun nodded. "So what did you have in mind?"

"You need a holding, a place of refuge," the stranger began. "A stronghold from which to carry out your battle against Skyrim's foes. Such a place can be well-defended, especially in this remote climate, and therefore prove to be invaluable. Power attracts power: once you've established a foothold for yourself, followers will flock to your banner."

"So you're saying we need a place of strength," Sigrun said. "Well, where can we find one?"

"Fort Dunstad," Roggi stated. "I think I heard folk in Kynesgrove back in th' day make mention o'an old fort up 'round these parts. Dunstad was its name. Should still be standin'."

"Perhaps you're not as useless as you appear, straw-head," the stranger stated. She then turned back to Sigrun. "That will do. But the choice to attack must be yours."

Sigrun took a good look at each of the four followers. Roggi and Erik, the two men, silent throughout this whole ordeal, gazed at her, waiting for their orders. The face of the stranger was unreadable behind her mask. As for Jonna, at her side, she was also looking up at the woman who was a sister to her, eagerly wanting to know where to go next. A moment of decision had come at last.

"We attack."

"Now that's what I like t' 'ear!" Roggi exclaimed.

They began removing their weapons from the troll's carcass and cleaning them off. Meanwhile, the stranger conjured up a ball of mage-light to guide them to Fort Dunstad. Jonna then pulled Sigrun away and spoke to her privately.

"Where did you find this b*tch?" she asked.

"She found us," Sigrun replied.

"Be careful of her, Sig," Jonna stated. "I don't trust her."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she wasn't exactly helping us when that troll showed up. And why does she wear a mask anyway? What's she got to hide?" Sigrun didn't answer, but paused and gazed off into the snow. Jonna leaped up and waved her hand before Sigrun's eyes to get her attention.

"Well, she did give us advice on our next move," Sigrun stated in a vague, distant voice: as if she was speaking from out of a dream. "To tell you the truth, I had no plan after finding you again and returning the sword." She turned to Jonna. "But now, it feels like we're finally going to do something useful: something meaningful. We're not going to be reacting to things happening around us anymore or merely passively watching events unfold: we're going to lay our hands to the Wheel and turn it wherever we want."

"Huh?" Jonna asked.

"I...I don't know why I said it like that. Just came to me, I guess."

"Okay," Jonna said slowly. "Just the same, be careful of that stranger. There's something about her I can't quite put my finger on: makes me uneasy."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Once they had their things together, they began the northward march. The stranger cast her enchantments once again, and just as before the ground was moving faster beneath their feet than normal. This did nothing to soften Jonna's disapproval of the stranger, and she kept her eyes on her for the rest of that day. However, she didn't seem to do anything: she merely walked ahead of them, holding out her hand as the glowing orb floated this way and that, leading them down the snow-covered road to Fort Dunstad.

Despite the enchantments, the coming of night could not be stopped. So they decided to make camp off the road. Four of them dug out a place in a snow-drift for them to sleep together: the stranger did not help. It was therefore decided that, since she hadn't helped with the work, the stranger would not sleep inside the shelter with them. She didn't seem to mind the exclusion: she claimed that she didn't need rest and would keep watch for them as well as scout out the road ahead and see how close they were to Dunstad. One by one they fell asleep, wrapped as they were in their cloaks. Sigrun sat up all that night, afraid to close her eyes. Memories of the Sisters of Strife, the faces in the mist, and that accursed Argonian from her dreams, filled her with terror of the hours of darkness.

While she sat up, Jonna's head lolled from her shoulder and fell onto her lap. Sigrun smiled, gently patted her golden head, and wrapped her cloak around her tighter. She heard a scoff and looked ahead. The stranger had been sitting guard just outside the mouth of the shelter, her back to them: the sound came from her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You put much attention on this one," the stranger said. "One who is not even your blood relative, nor a lover. Why?"

"She's my sister," Sigrun replied. "Well, as good as one anyway. We've been together since we could walk."

"Indeed?" the stranger asked. "Such attachments are dangerous. Whether you know it or not, and whether she knows it or not, she has an inordinate amount of power and control over you. It is not good. A leader must be free of such attachments, for only then can they be strong enough to act when action must be taken."

"What are you saying?" Sigrun asked. "That I should give up my best-friend? My sister?"

"Perhaps I have overstepped my boundary," the stranger vaguely answered. "I speak only for your own benefit and preservation. The more you allow other people to influence you, the more power you give them. Such behavior is dangerous, for you risk losing yourself among people and becoming nothing more than an auxiliary of others."

"She's my sister!" Sigrun repeated. "Why would I even want to throw her away? It's out of the question."

"Indeed? What if her death served your great purpose? What if she fell and became a rival? What if her death meant the salvation of Skyrim, and likewise her life meant its destruction? Would you be willing to make such a sacrifice? Of course not, you blind yourself with your attachments."

"I would never give her up."

"Then you are admitting to your own weakness. Your enemies will use that weakness against you. Therefore I cautioned you against it. You may do as you wish, and perhaps I am wrong and you will never have to face such a dilemma. But it may be that I am right. Listen to my words and learn from them, even if you do not agree with them: they can save your life."

Sigrun was about to say something, then she noticed that the stranger was acting oddly. Her head bowed, and she was clutching her chest.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I need no pity," the stranger replied.

"Are you hurt?" Sigrun asked. "I'm sorry I didn't realize."

"It's nothing," the stranger returned. "I'll be fine."

"If you insist," Sigrun sighed. Jonna stirred upon her lap, and she closed her eyes in regret. They were talking too loudly. She turned back to the hooded and masked stranger and spoke to her in a whispering voice. "So, what's your name?"

"I told you before," she repeated. "I'm not giving you my name."

"Well, if we're going to battle," Sigrun reasoned. "And if you're in trouble, I can't be shouting out 'Hey you!' to get your attention: that could mean anyone."

"Your concern for my well-being is another admittance of weakness," the stranger replied. "Suppose that I am captured: your enemies can use your concern for me to control you. Walls are built for a reason, and the walls of our partnership are adequate and should not be broken down."

"Still," Sigrun sighed. "I'd feel a lot easier taking your advice if I had something to call you besides, 'Hey you', 'stranger', 'woman', or what have you." She went back to attempting to fight off sleep. The stranger paused for a moment, then turned back to her and whispered:

"You may call me Willow."

At last the morning dawned. The five of them rose from their place in the snow: they were all still alive and had their limbs intact. The masked woman, who gave Sigrun the name of Willow to call her, told them that she had spent the night scouting out Fort Dunstad. It wasn't very far away, and they only had a light garrison. She suggested that they could easily take the fort, even with only five of them.

"I don't like this," Jonna said, shaking her head.

"And what would you like?" sneered Willow.

"The Empire's been crawling around Skyrim," she replied. "And yet they leave this fort undermanned and lightly guarded?"

"I'm with 'er," Roggi stated. "Sounds like a trap."

"And you would know about traps, straw-head?" Willow asked.

"Yeah," Roggi returned. "Them dark elves had plenty back n' Eastmarch."

"And why is that?" Willow asked. "Perhaps it is because the Dunmer were far too intelligent for your tiny, ape mind? Or is it possible that you are a slave to your prejudices and see shadows where there are none?"

"I've seen 'em slaughter an' enslave kinfolk with me own eyes," Roggi replied. "They say th' Thalmor hung bodies from th' walls o' Solitude seventeen year ago: that's th' least o' what th' dark elves have done."

"You have seen nothing of the sort," Willow sneered. "And even if you have, there aren't nearly enough people in this gods-forsaken country to hang upon the walls of your cities."

"That's enough!" Sigrun shouted, raising her voice. All eyes turned toward her: Sigrun's pulse was rushing as she noticed them and how loud she had been. At first she stammered and tried to apologize, but Jonna glared at her and shook her head.

"W-We need to stay focused," she said at last. She turned to the masked and hooded form of Willow. "How many are there at the fort?"

"I counted no fewer than twenty soldiers."

"That's four of them for each of us," Erik commented.

"Be silent," Willow snapped. "If we wanted someone to state the obvious, we'd ask the fork-bearded straw-head to open his mouth."

"How are they arrayed?" Sigrun asked.

"Four on the gates, two on the walls, and fourteen milling about the courtyard or inside."

"What kind of weapons do they have?"

"Plenty," was the vague reply.

"Gonna need something clearer than that," Jonna commented.

"They don't have battle-mages or Dwarven Colossi, if that's what you're worried about," sneered Willow. "But they do have swords and spears; and their watchers on the walls have plenty of arrows."

"So how do we get in?" Sigrun asked.

"Frontal assault," Erik suggested. "We have shields, we can hold off their arrows."

"Only a fool would attempt that," Willow retorted. "They have numbers and height advantage over us. Nor is there any one among us powerful enough to break down their gates."

"We tore down th' gates at th' Halted Stream camp," Roggi commented.

"Yes, you did," Willow condescended. "You tore down a wooden palisade door built by bandits to keep wolves and other ruffians out. This is a gate of iron bars: it would take at least two or three giants to break down."

"Then how are we gettin' in?" Roggi asked. "Can't none of us fly o'er their walls."

"Indeed, an astute observation for one so...intellectually deficient. If we could, they would surely spot us and fire upon us. No, we must find a way to get through the city walls without going over them."

"Under 'em?" Roggi asked.

"We haven't the time," she retorted.

"Then what do we do?" Sigrun asked.

"I have an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"We walk up to the gates and ask them to let us in."

Roggi and Erik, who had received the lion's share of her insults and mocking, laughed aloud. Jonna looked at the masked woman like she was crazy. Only Sigrun seemed intrigued in any way by her suggestion.

"I will cast an Illusion upon myself, disguising myself as an Imperial official," she began. "The rest of you will be concealed by a spell of invisibility behind me. I'll then walk up to the gates, ask them to let me in, saying that I have an urgent message for the commander of the garrison. Once they let me in, you follow behind me inside: stay close and don't bump into anyone, or each other, or the spell will be broken."

"Alright," Sigrun nodded. Jonna stroked her chin, while the men had ceased their laughter and were now listening. "Once we get inside, what then?"

"I will deal with those in the fort," she explained. "The four of you can easily handle the ones outside."

"Amazing..." Jonna gasped in awe.

"This could actually work," Sigrun replied. "Alright, let's do this."

Moments later, a lone Imperial soldier came walking towards the gates of Fort Dunstad. Before the iron portcullis, he stopped and looked up at those above. He said that he had an urgent message from the Imperial Legate in Whiterun for the garrison commander and asked to be let in. The guards opened to him, telling him that they'd bring the commander out to verify his story. Swiftly the soldier made his way into the courtyard.

Suddenly many things happened at once. Four Nords, heavily armed, appeared out of nowhere and began attacking the garrison. The Imperial soldier was gone, and a hooded and masked mage bolted towards the garrison, magically sealing the doors in its wake. The Nords rushed the enemy, striking them down one by one, moving with swiftness and vigor. Within moments, six bodies lay upon the ground and the last cries of dying soldiers came from the garrison.

Sigrun could do nothing but stand and stare at the courtyard, a grim miasma of mud, snow, and blood. Part of her felt like laughing: it had actually worked. Willow's advice had come through for her. All she could do was grip the hilt of her sword and breathe in the cold northern air: the chill softened her heart from the heat of battle.

"That was good, eh?" Jonna asked.

Sigrun nodded, no words to be said. She turned to the men: Erik was also looking similarly entranced: killing so many men so quickly was a tall order for both of them. She patted him on the back, and he gave her a wiry smile. She returned the expression, but didn't feel happy at all. Roggi, meanwhile, was full of smiles and using the snow to clean the blood off his face. Several minutes passed until at last, Willow emerged from the bowels of the garrison.

"The fort is ours."

(AN: Okay, I finally got a chapter done. I'm so relieved! Writing has been hard lately, especially after I lost two months worth of writing of a really huge story from my Bible series [the flash-drive that had the main file was broken]: thankfully it was backed up, but two months old. Boy, my desire to write is very low right now.)

(In happier news, I got Skyrim to work on my laptop [and I'm loudly shouting "It works!" over and over like Philos from the 2002 movie The Scorpion King: you'll likely recognize him more as Theoden from Lord of the Rings]! In addition there came a host of mods to make the game more "immersive", as Henry "MxR" Liang would say. So my interest in Skyrim is pretty high, and maybe that means I'm likely to write more with this story. You might also notice that The Dragonborn and the Lioness has a new cover art: thanks to some lovely mods added to my Skyrim playthrough, I was able to depict a scene from either that story or The Dragon and the Bear [you all might remember better than me])