The path got steeper quickly. The poorly hewn blocks that made up the 7000 steps were placed in such a way that they seemed to grab at her feet and trip her up. In some spots, the ancient slabs disappeared completely under the earth and blowing snow. It was actually easier to walk there, and after a few hours she came to cherish them. They briefly took the strain off of her aching legs. She'd lied to Eyvindur back at Whiterun when he'd asked about her leg, and now she had to put all her energy into hiding her limp. She was already regretting her sleepless night.

"How far apart are these prayer altars?" she called to Eyvindur over the howling wind. He marched a few steps ahead of her, somehow unhindered by the uneven terrain, horrible cold, and blowing snow. He glanced back at her in annoyance.

"Two hours. Maybe more, maybe less. Depends on you!" he barked back, frustrated by her slow pace. She tugged the fur cloak he had offered her closer around her body. She couldn't feel a single bit of skin that wasn't enveloped by the pelt, and she was genuinely afraid of losing a finger. She trudged on through the snow with her head bent, counting the steps that went past off and on. She couldn't decide whether it was a good way to pass the time or a good way to make her break down in tears.

After about an hour, the path evened out as the snow grew deeper, and while it was still a slow trek, it was no longer painful. The wind still howled, but the gloomy clouds above them parted and the sun warmed them a little. The steps took a sharp dip downwards, and Eyvindur pointed out across the mountain chain.

"Look," he commanded proudly. She glanced up. Laid out before her was a magnificent sight; it seemed like a hundred young, jagged mountains reached up for them from far below. They shone and sparkled in the sun thanks to their snowy peaks. Off in the distance, almost equal with them, was an old stone watchtower.

"What's that?" Ransom asked, trying to point while still keeping a firm grasp on her furs.

"Not sure. Probably just a den full of bandits. It's quite beautiful though."

Ransom nodded and inspected it for much longer than she needed to. Eyvindur finally grunted and nudged her onwards. They came upon the second prayer altar shortly after. Eyvindur dropped his pack and started to pray. Ransom found a large, dry rock and settled down, sighing loudly and rubbing her knees. She watched him curiously. He had his hands clasped tightly, and his face seemed troubled. He stayed for a long time, longer than she thought was necessary. Not that she really had any idea how much a person was supposed to pray on a pilgrimage route. Last time she'd begged for a god's attention, she'd still lived in Whiterun.

"What are you praying so hard about?" she asked after they departed the third alter.

"That's between me and Talos," he replied coldly. She shrugged and didn't press him.

"What else should we talk about then? I'd rather think about something other than freezing to death."

"Come on now, it's barely blowing at all. Wait until tonight if you think this is bad."

"I said something other than my imminent snowy death!"

"Alright alright... you said that you came from Whiterun but you ended up in Riften. How did you get there?"

"Ah, Ri'saad took me there! I travelled with him for a long time..."

"But he got tired of you?"

"No! We were attacked by bandits one too many times, and he decided that it wasn't safe for me on the road anymore."

"And he left you at the orphanage."

"...Not exactly. He had some friends in town that took me in, taught me their craft. It was a lot harder with them than it was with Ri'saad, but anything was better than Whiterun."

"What was it like with the cat men?"

"It was great, from what I remember. Lots of snowball fights and warm fires and singing. Ri'saad always said I was the one that brought all the happiness into the camp. He called me his smiling child."

"Is that what Kri'sma means?"

"Hehe, yeah, good job. He said that I was always happy and helpful. He taught me how to read and shoot a bow and swim and... I don't know, things fathers are supposed to teach daughters... I was crushed when he left me alone."

"Where's your real father?"

Ransom shrugged. To her, she had just answered his question, but she understood what he meant. "Morrowind somewhere I assume."

"Have you thought about going to find him?"

"Heh, I entertained the idea when I was younger, but it's not really possible. I don't know his name or his face, or where he lives. And even if I did find him, there's no way he'd want to see me. You saw how the dunmer of skyrim think of me, imagine the ones that live in the homeland."

"You're his blood, it might be different."

"I doubt it."

"Family is the most important thing, you should be on good terms with them."

"I'm on great terms with Ri'saad and the other caravanners. To me, they're my family. My parents are just two bitter people I have the misfortune of being related to."

That seemed to give Eyvindur pause, and they chatted on and off as they walked. The sun was beginning to turn the sky shades of pink and orange by the time they reached the fourth altar.

"You going to pray at this one too?"

"Of course. Give me a moment and then we can get started preparing our campsite. Unless you know how to do it."

"'Fraid not. A Riften homebody doesn't really have a lot of use for camping skills."

"Figured as much. Do me a favour and make yourself useful by getting some dead branches off the trees. We need kindling."

"Aye aye, sir," Ransom snapped sarcastically to attention as Eyvindur prepared himself, then she threw down her pack next to him and headed out on her quest. The snow near the evergreens was almost up to her thighs, and she could feel her pants getting soggy. She snapped off the lowest branches and carried them back in a big bundle under her arm, careful not to let them touch the snow. She had no idea how wet they could be before they wouldn't start a fire.

"Where do I put these?" she asked when she drew near. He didn't reply. His face was tense like before, and his hands were crushed together. She watched him with studious interest. His shoulders fell, his hands slackened, and he opened his eyes, filled with sadness. Ransom looked away.

"How long have you been there?"

"Not long." She glanced at him sheepishly. "Didn't get the answer you were looking for?"

"The Divines are fickle, and they certainly don't have time for our pitiful admonitions."

"Why do you pray at all then?"

"It's a token of faith."

"Alright then."

"I assume you're as godless as you are without morals?"

Ransom glanced around non-committally. "I have faith in lady luck, and her constant attempts to bury me. She's the only thing that's had any real impact on my life anyways."

"You have to try and reach out to them before they'll reach out to you."

"I did try, when I was younger."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You may find this hard to believe, but there was a time in my life where I prayed almost every day. To Talos no less."

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not kidding! Every morning I'd get up and go to the statue in Whiterun. Heimskr was preaching even then, and I liked to pray before he got there," she chuckled a little. "I must have looked ridiculous up there..."

"What were you praying about?"

"I thought that was between me and The Divines?"

"Well, if it's private to you..."

"Not really, I was asking him to make me look like my mother, like a nord so I could make her happy. When that didn't happen, I prayed to Azura, that she'd send my father back to get me and take me to Morrowind. That didn't turn out either... so I just quit trying. Then I got lucky and ended up with Ri'saad."

"There's no such thing as luck," Eyvindur insisted as he drew a small spade and began to dig out a large ditch in the snow within the shelter of a stand of trees. "Just the will of the Divines and your own making."

"So you're saying the Gods answered my prayers by trying to drown me with a mud crab?" Ransom replied skeptically, watching him dig with a growing feeling of dread.

"What are you talking about?" Evyindur asked, squinting to see her as Skyrim's sun sank beneath the horizon, "and why are you just standing there? Get the flint and start a fire before the sun goes down and we freeze to death."

"The what?"

"Dear Gods, don't tell me you don't even know how to start a damned fire."

"When would I ever need to know how to build a fire!?"

"Maybe when your borders got tired of your good for nothing face and threw you out for awhile!"

"When that happened I just shared with the whores."

Eyvindur was taken aback by her matter of fact response, and he spent a few seconds trying to discern whether or not she was telling the truth. Finally he sighed and handed her the spade.

"Fine, take this and I'll make the fire. I assume you know how to dig a body-sized hole?"

"I think I can figure it out," she snapped and grabbed it from him. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he built up the sticks and wood. There was a small pile of thicker firewood near their campsite, left behind by previous pilgrims to make their trek a little easier. After he had it burning, he turned to the considerable snow pile Ransom had made and began to pack down a wall against the wind.

"So… when do we put up the tent?"

"There is no tent. It would have been too heavy for the trek up. Don't fret though, if done correctly, the snow will keep us nice and warm tonight." He glanced over at her wet clothes. "You should sit and get dry before you sleep. We can't have you catching cold."

For once, Ransom didn't argue with him, she just stood too close to the fire until steam began to rise from her clothes and the shaking subsided. This was misery at its finest. The idea of doing this trek willingly boggled her mind. Eyvindur came up next to her and offered her some salted fish and water.

"Tomorrow we'll make High Hrothgar for sure, then we'll see what the Greybeards think of you."

"Can't wait. Nothing like a bunch of crazy old nords to make my life just that tiny bit more miserable. I assume they'll be just as disappointed with me as you are?"

"I'm not disappointed, I'm… surprised."

"No one taught you how to lie. It's alright though, if I were waiting for a hero, I'd be pretty disappointed too."