Disclaimer: I don't own Skyrim.

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. They make me very happy. :) Enjoy this chapter. Please drop a review when you're finished reading. :D

Chapter 9

A few minutes later, Silas returned with an armful of sticks for a fire. I watched him as he moved. For his height, he was very graceful. When the pile of sticks was arranged to his liking, he summoned flames to his palm and lit the sticks. I watched the fire lick at the wood for a moment before commenting on his use of Destruction magic.

"My mother taught me," he explained. "She mainly worked with Restoration magic. She refused to use conjuration and alteration, saying that it was too much trouble. She taught me everything I know."

"Could you teach me some Restoration magic? It probably comes in handy in a fight." He left the fire and sat down on his bedroll. He pulled a knife from his boot, and before I could stop him, he drew the knife across his left forearm.

"What the hell are you doing?" I squeaked. I tried to get up to get some bandages, but he pulled me back down.

"You have to have something to heal," he answered simply. I watched the blood pour from the gash. "Listen to me. Freya."

I tore my eyes from his wounds and looked into his eyes. The amusement was back, and it made me want to punch him.

"What do I do?"

"Close your eyes," he said. I did as commanded. "Now. Dig deep inside, and find your healing magic. It should feel warm and comforting. Don't try to tell me that you don't have any, because everyone does."

I felt around inside, trying to find my magic. It took me a while, but once I found it, or what I thought to be it, I opened my eyes. Silas was staring at me.

"Hold on to it, and put your hands over the wound." I did as he said, my hands hovering just above his skin. "Direct the magic through your body and into your hands, and let it escape to the cut."

My brows furrowed as I concentrated, willing the magic into my hands. They began to glow, and I willed the magic further. Silas' arm began to glow as well, and after a few seconds, he told me to stop.

I released the magic, feeling exhausted but warm, and leaned down to inspect the wound. In the light of the fire, I could see Silas' unblemished skin. Pride welled up inside me, and a huge grin split my face.

"I did it!" I exclaimed.

"Yes you did. Restoration magic is the most easy to control if it's the first magic you use. But once you start using the other schools, it gets harder and harder to find the healing magic." He returned the dagger to his boot after wiping it clean on the grass.

The warm feeling was starting to fade, and I started to shiver in the cold night air. My clothes were still a bit damp, so I laid down in my bedroll, burrowing deep into the blankets.

"I'll take the first watch," Silas announced.

"Okay. Wake me up in a few hours," I yawned. With that, I fell into a deep slumber.

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It was hot. Unbearably so. Sweat plastered my clothes to my back. I opened my eyes, but could see nothing but the dying embers of the fire. Something close behind me moved and I jumped in surprise. My bedroll was constricting, like it was stuffed full. I turned as quickly as I could I the confined space, only to see Silas' sleeping face.

"Silas," I said, shaking his shoulder gently. He stirred, opened one pale green eye, and peeked out at me from between strands of his ebony hair. "What are you doing in here? You were supposed to wake me up for my shift."

"You were rolling around in your bedroll like a pig rolls in mud. And you were shivering. I didn't want you to catch cold." He yawned, reminding me of a saber cat waking from a mid day nap.

"That was very nice of you. But don't you think this is a bit awkward?" I asked. He sighed, rubbing his face with one hand.

"You were calling me," he said after a few seconds went by. "I think you were having a nightmare."

That's weird, I thought. I don't remember dreaming at all. I was confused. Even if I'd had a nightmare, why would I call out for Silas?

"I don't remember having a nightmare," I stated. And then I seemed to remember that I was wrapped up in a bedroll with an extremely attractive, albeit sleepy man. So naturally, I blushed.

"Are you feeling okay?" Silas asked, putting his hand to my forehead. "You're kind of warm."

"I would feel much better if you would remove yourself from my bedroll. Please and thank you." I wasn't trying to be mean, but my heart was fluttering and my stomach felt strange. I was disappointed when Silas squirmed his way out of my bedroll, but after a sharp reprimand from my sensible side, I knew it was for the better.

As Silas got comfortable in his own bedroll, I sat up, shook the last bit of sleep from my body, and prepared to take my watch. I sat at the trunk of a tree that sat just close enough to the fire's dying embers that I felt their warmth, but not by the light. My Daedric sword lay across my lap, ready for use.

I sat, unmoving, and waited for dawn. My thought flitted between my supposed nightmare and waking up-for the second time-beside a sleeping Silas. Just thinking about him made my stomach flop in a funny kind of way. What is WRONG with me? I'd never been so self-conscious around any of my other followers. What's so different about him?

I thought until my head ached, and then I thought some more. Eventually, the sun rose over the mountains that bordered Skyrim, tearing me from my thoughts. I stood and inhaled the clean, sweet-smelling air, stretching my palms towards the sky. My back and legs gave several satisfying pops, and I shook my hands, ridding them of any leftover stiffness.

I rolled up my bedroll and attached it to the pack on Jala's saddle. My stomach growled, and I decided to do some hunting before Silas woke. I grabbed my ebony bow and a few Elven arrows, strapped my sword to my hip, and took off.

An hour and a half later, I headed back to camp. Silas was awake, packing his bedroll. I threw some wood onto the ashes of last night's fire, hoping that the branches would catch. But after several minutes, it didn't look like it was going to spring back into existence.

"Leave it," Silas said from somewhere behind me. "Go skin your rabbit."

I huffed a bit, but left the fire to skin the small rabbit I had shot. I was proud of myself-I always was after making a kill-but wasn't too excited about skinning the small animal. Begrudgingly, I got to work. Half an hour later, I was up to my elbows in blood and gore, but the meat was skinned and ready to be cooked.

"Thanks for the fire," I mumbled around a mouthful of rabbit meat. It was bland, but it was filling. Silas, as always, merely picked at his meal, eating tidbits. I felt like a slob compared to him.

"Don't mention it," he said quietly.

"Why don't you eat?" I asked after a few silent minutes passed by.

"I'm not particularly fond of meat," he stated dryly.

"Well, what are you fond of?" I asked. He thought for a moment.

"Vegetables." He said it with such a serious finality that I couldn't help it but laugh.

"Just what do you find so amusing?" He sounded angry, which made me giggle until I couldn't breathe.

"You," I said, gasping for air.

"What about me?" He asked.

"Just about everything," I stated simply, smiling from ear to ear.