Grelod. She towers. Yelling.
Fear. In my blood. In my bones. Can't run. Can't hide. She sees. She knows.
She hits. It hurts. Again. Still yelling.
Tears. Can't control them. Anger. Fear. Either. Both. Falling. Can't protect myself. She follows. Hitting. Beating.
Again.
Again.
Again…
Issana's eyes snapped open. She heard her own gasp of wakefulness, felt the warmth of the embers nearby, saw the dancing glow of torchbugs.
Just a dream.
She breathed deep, letting the cool air wipe away the memories. Grelod's face began to fade from her vision.
They weren't common, the nightmares. She got them rarely enough now that she could almost pretend they never happened. But when they did come, when they crept up into her mind in the dark of night…
It felt like they'd never left.
Damn you, Grelod. You don't own me anymore. I left. I'm free of you. She sat up.
So why can't I forget?
She rested her chin on her knees, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, and stared into the remains of the fire. The nightmare was always the same moment, when Grelod had beaten her so hard she'd fallen onto the hearth. She glanced down at her palm. Still have the scar.
Issana didn't know what time it was, but the embers had burned dim enough that it had to be near dawn. Guess I'm not going back to sleep.
She glanced up towards the nearby trees. Their camp was maybe fifty feet from the road but the trees were thick enough that it might as well have been half a mile for all she could tell. The sky and surrounding forest was still dark with no sign of a sunrise. Maybe I should go back to sleep after all.
She was about to lay down again when she froze. She blinked, her eyes straining into the shadows between the trees.
No. Nothing there. Must've been my imagin-
It moved again. Issana stared into the blackness, trying to make it out.
Nothing. Only shadows.
Issana let her breath out slowly. Still on edge. Bloody nightmares.
Then one of the shadows moved.
It peeled away from the recesses of a tree, sliding like smoke over the ground, and as it pooled in the grass it took shape. A man. Tall, well built, with pale skin and eyes that were almost lamplike in the gloom.
Issana's mouth shot open to cry out but the man raised a finger to his dark lips. "Sssh," he murmured. "Sleep…"
Issana felt suddenly leaden. Her eyelids wavered; all she wanted to do was sink back, let sleep return…
CRACK
A blood-curdling shriek ripped the night apart. Issana lurched upright and saw the pale-skinned man falling, his hands clutching his chest as he tumbled backwards to the ground. Rune stared at the man, then at her, eyes wide with shock. "What-" he began.
"Gotcha, you bastard," said a voice from behind them.
Issana's gaze whipped round. "You!"
The orc from the tavern had his crossbow up on one shoulder. He walked towards them with a slow, confident swagger, eyes flicking between the body and the two of them. "Yes. I've been following you since you left Ivarstead."
Issana stared at him. "Why?"
The orc gestured to the dead man's corpse. "That bastard's been following you since then too. I did you a favour."
"He-" Issana glanced back at the body. "He's been following us? Who is he?"
The orc walked past her and planted a booted foot on the corpse. "Not who. What. Been tracking this thing since it left Hjaalmarch." He drew a thin blade with his free hand and used to to push the dead man's lips apart. "Would you look at that?" he said, whistling. "Hungry one. Looks like it hasn't fed in a while."
Rune got up nervously. "What are you talking about?"
The orc tucked the knife away and stood upright. "Leech. Bloodsucker." He looked over at them. "Vampire."
"Vamp-vampire?" Issana repeated. She gave the corpse a horrified glance as if it was about to lurch upright.
"Yes, vampire." The orc prodded the body with his boot. "Don't believe me? Come and have a look."
Issana rose. She walked over to the orc and stared down at the corpse. It was pale, nearly white, with a transparency to the skin that showed blue veins beneath. But the lips… Dark red, like dried blood, and between them she could see long, ivory fangs.
Issana let out a slow breath. "What… what was it going to do?"
The orc shrugged. "Bite you. Drink your blood. What all vampires do."
"Good thing you were here, then," said Issana.
"Yes, it is."
Rune came up beside them, gazing at the corpse with horrified fascination. "So that's what you do? Hunt these things?"
The orc nodded. "A few others, too. Isran keeps talking about reforming the Dawnguard, but the last thing we need is any sort of organization. Just gives the vampires a target."
"A target?" Issana said. "Are there… lots of these things out there?"
"Didn't use to be," said the orc. He swung his crossbow off his shoulder and caught it in his other hand. "But something's changing. They're getting bolder."
"That's… comforting."
"No, it's not." The orc ran his thumb and forefinger along the crossbow's string. He grunted and tossed his crossbow back up onto his shoulder. "I should go. Told Isran I'd meet him in Riften in two days." He scowled down at the dead vampire. "Got held up by this damn thing."
Rune finally glanced up from the body. He looked startled. "We're headed to Riften too. Maybe we should-"
"No." The orc gave him a narrow-eyed glare. "Good luck." He turned and strode away. Issana watched him until he disappeared into the trees.
She glanced down at the vampire and felt a shiver crawl up her spine. Whatever foul spell the creature had worked to put her to sleep had left her feeling violated, like someone had come up beside her and whispered something indecent in her ear. She shuddered. "I'm not going to be getting anymore sleep tonight," she said. "You?"
"No."
Issana took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We might as well press on, then."
Behind her, Rune gave one last look at the vampire, then he followed after her.