Author's Note: I did say there was going to be another update. Not a lot happens in this chapter. I just really wanted to focus on the tranquility of the nature in Skyrim, and especially how calming it can be to get away from society. This particular story-arc is based directly off of the culmination of several stressful fights/quests in my personal save file. I finally just took off and did exactly what Káno does here; ditched my followers and travel. I went entirely on foot, almost the exact route that he does. I ended up meeting a lot of NPC's, finding millions of ore veins, killing dragons, and in general, enjoying myself! It was incredibly fun, and took stress off, both in game and in real life. The scenery in Skyrim is incredible, and I had so much fun just noodling around on my own (WITHOUT THAT STUPID DOG). I swear, I will finally wrap this particular mini story up and get back to the oneshots soon, but I wanted to focus on that theme of peace in this particular chapter.

To anyone currently following my Diablo story... I swear, I am working on the next chapter! I have not forgotten you. But I did forget most of the details up to a certain extent, and may or may not be waiting to go back and replay that part of the game? Maybe? Hehehe...

Anyway.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Káno can't help leaving. It's not anything that Faendal said or did. It's not even that blasted dog. He just can't handle interactions at the minute, and it's not their fault. It's not their fault.

He keeps saying that to himself, as if he's trying to convince somebody. The only person he can't seem to convince, however, is himself. Seeing those people, in town… He can't help but imagine Faendal there, or Lydia, or anybody else he loves. Or even the dog, no matter how much he professes to hate the animal. Those people who were dead, he knew them. He helped them the last time he came by their village, and instead of helping them once more, he brought ruin down upon their village. And besides them, there were others as well. People whom he had helped, once upon a time. People he had saved. And then, even before that. With the Daedra Lord in Markarth. It had started out as one of those simple quests; "Come investigate this house with me!". But the house wasn't haunted. It was cursed. And the Daedra inside had deemed him "worthy" of carrying out his word. So in the end, he had been forced to kill not only an innocent man, but a priest as well. And all in secrecy.

The worst part was, Faendal kept looking at him sideways, and the dog would occasionally sniff at him and turn away, like they knew he had done something wrong. At night, he felt like he had been wasting time. Like the longer that he sat, the more likely they were to be found by something. So he had to leave. If he isn't with them, at least for a bit, they can settle down at an inn or something. They can relax without his curse looming over their heads. Everyone he comes into contact with seems to end up dead or worse, so perhaps if he leaves them alone then they'll be fine.

So he takes the problem away.

And so, instead of taking a trip up the coast with them, he instead examines his long list of jobs for something in the area, and does that. And then another one. And another one. And more and more and more. He steers clear of major settlements along the way, keeping away from people and towns. Instead, he skips up North, and travels along the glaciers and ice floes. By night, he wanders by the light from the sky-lights, or what they like to call "the aurora". By day, the light of the sun. He knows perfectly well that continuing at the pace he's going at will eventually hurt him, but he can't help it. Every time he stops to camp, that feeling comes creeping up on him again. So he keeps on. It's when he finally hits the easternmost edge of Skyrim that he truly realizes just how far he's come.

All the way from Markarth upwards, then around, taking a northern route, then heading directly eastward.

All the way across the continent.

From there, he does what he sees as the only option. Heads South, again skirting major settlements. The one place he does stop at is Riften, when he gets there, and it's only to sell items and get a decent sleep in a real bed, as well as a good shave and a fresh meal. The poor residents think that he's some kind of apparition. They aren't totally wrong. From there, he heads east once more. He meets up with the Dawnguard, a serious group of Vampire hunters and joins. The man in charge is taken aback by his appearance, and demeanor, but seeing that he truly means business, they let him in.

It's when he starts heading for Ivarstead that he truly hits a roadblock. The enemies west of Riften are far too difficult for him to take on alone, and after escaping from an encounter with a troll severely wounded, he begins to fear that his impromptu road trip is at an end. However, being more stubborn than a Giant, he keeps on, sticking to the more frequently traveled roads, unlike the rest of his trip. His wounds from the troll encounter only slow him down a little, and in combat don't prove too debilitating. The only time they cause actual issues is when he is fighting with a dragon on the outskirts of a swamp. The wounds are fresh when that happens, and the dragon ends up almost torching him. He ends up wishing that he had Faendal and the dog, but has to banish the thought. After all, they might get hurt as well. And if that happens…

He progresses through the swamp fairly slowly, the marshy terrain slowing him down a little more than he would like. The fights also take quite a bit whenever he runs into an enemy, and his progress ends up being impeded a little more than he would like. Nevertheless, he slogs on. Sleep is something of the past at this point, as he always has to be on the lookout for some sort of enemy, and he's afraid that the circles under his eyes are dark enough to absorb ink. His self image is also something of the past. Ever since he entered the swamp he hasn't been able to catch a good night of sleep, eat a full meal, let alone bathe. He hopes that before reaching any major civilization, like Whiterun, his intended destination, he is able to get some sort of bath. It's worrying to think that he would have to walk into some sort of town looking like he does at the minute. Rather than think about that, he devotes his attention to fighting and walking, conserving energy rather than wasting it on useless worries.

After about a week of more of the same, he finally reaches an area where the climate has begun to change from swampy, to cold. It's actually fairly nice, and he welcomes the change of atmosphere. The change, however, probably means that he's coming up on mountains, since he knows that there's no way that it's nearing winter. The mountains mean more difficult enemies, like frostbite spiders, ice wolves, and frost trolls, but after a week or so of traveling through the swamp, it doesn't make much of a difference to him. The difference is even welcome to him. Clearing caves, killing slaughterfish, slaying dragons and in general having to deal with fairly dangerous nuisances gets monotonous after a bit. A change of climate is highly welcome, but unfortunately it doesn't come until about three days later. The swamp, finally, evens out into dry terrain, and the dry terrain turns into high, sloping mountains. He heads towards them, hoping for some streams and forest. Anything that isn't swamp is okay at this point.

He isn't disappointed, and actually ends up finding a couple places to rest along the way, for which he is eternally grateful. One day, he actually goes to sleep with the sun, and ends up waking around noon, which never happens. The weariness that had settled into his bones while slogging through the swamp is gone as he travels through the mountains. He suddenly finds himself with plenty of time to explore, see the sights, and just take it easy. The mountains are cool and beautiful in the spring, and all the wildlife is coming out around him. Everywhere he turns there is wildlife. Butterflies here, a fox there, a rabbit warren there. He wanders all throughout the mountains, marking off caves on his map, and painting in sections that he hadn't had previously filled out. Some of the supplies he carries on him are rolls of parchment, as well as bottles of ink and quills. He tries his hand at some leisurely sketching, which, to be honest, is absolutely dreadful in the beginning. He realizes that he is absolutely dreadful at drawing live animals, but after some practice gets decent at landscapes. After all, he's always drawing on his map. Landscapes aren't that different from cartography, and when he's feeling particularly artistic, he comes up with some fairly realistic looking pictures. A couple weeks pass in this fashion, with the pleasant interlude only interrupted by a few chance encounters with bears or wolves. These fights are overshadowed by the overall pleasantness of the peace around him. Finally, after what seems to be weeks of fighting, he can finally rest. However, there's only so long he can stay in the mountains, and he eventually decides that returning to civilization and the task at hand would be a good idea. With a final, brief trek around the mountains, he says goodbye to the beautiful scenery, taking in the scents and sounds in peace, for what will most likely be the last time in decades.

And so he leaves the mountains, heading for Whiterun, and then back off to fight once again.