"Are you certain?" Falka inquired. "Or—"

"Red—"

"Sorry, Vilkas, it is simply that—"

"Red, I'm sure there's something wrong." Exhausted, Vilkas sank down on an empty chair. "Don't ask me how I know, I just know something's not right here."

The barely concealed desperation in Vilkas' voice made her hesitate. A faint tightness Falka wasn't familiar with ghosted around the edges of his eyes.

"All right," Falka nodded, re-taking her own seat. "Let us assume you are right."

"I'd rather I'm not." Vilkas had buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he replied.

Bereft of anything she could say, Falka hooked her arm through Vilkas', leaning into him in silent support. She gestured at Jordis to pull up another chair, waiting until the woman had sat down before asking, "So what do we know?"

"Here." Jordis spread a map of western Skyrim across the table. "We've been down to the docks today, and have asked around if anybody'd seen either Cal or Farkas. But to no avail."

Falka, her eyes on the map in front of her, nodded.

"We even passed by Katla's Farm here," Jordis pointed to a small dot further down the road, "and the sawmill, here. They haven't passed there either."

"And we know they never passed Dragon Bridge," Vilkas added.

Falka let her finger travel the road from Dragon Bridge to Solitude and further north. "And I trust Calla would have stopped by here if she had planned on going further up north, right?"

Jordis snorted disdainful. "There's nothing but snow and ice there, why'd she wanna go there?"

The Redguard raised her hand in a placating gesture. "I am only asking, Jordis."

Dejectedly, Calla's friend lowered her gaze, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Sorry. Think your man's worry's bleeding over."

"You can laugh at my expense if I'm wrong," Vilkas offered. "But it's been a whole week, and there's simply no reason for Farkas and Calla to disappear like that."

The barmaid came with three tankards of fresh beer, interrupting the discussion for the moment. Once they'd all drunk deeply, Falka again returned to tracing lines across the map.

"Is there any chance Calla might have talked Farkas into going away?"

"Calla? Eloping?" Vehemently, Jordis shook her head. "Never."

A dry, humourless chuckle escaped Vilkas. "I doubt it's as easy as that, Red. Farkas wouldn't do such a thing, either."

"That leaves us with only one possible option. Farkas and Calla never made it to Solitude."

"Probably not even to Hjaalmarch."

On the map, Falka's finger travelled south from Solitude and towards the Reach. "Do we know for sure they took the southern route?"

"Absolutely. Calla would never take the northern one, if it could be helped. And since she already was at Whiterun…" Jordis didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she slowly emptied her tankard, studying the couple sitting across from her. All around them, people sat and sang and drank and laughed, filling the inn with noise. Falka pondered the map in silence, tracing routes and borders and routes again with her finger while her other hand still rested in the crook of Vilkas' arm. The energy that had driven Vilkas since he had bounded into Calla's and her home earlier the day seemed to have evaporated. Once again, he had buried his head between his hands, and his hair fell across his face, hiding any emotions that might have shown from watchful eyes.

Eventually, Jordis excused herself to step outside.

"You know, I think there's one good side to this insane plan of yours." Vilkas lowered his hands to look at Falka. "It brought us to the right place long before we'd have anticipated anything had we stayed in Whiterun."

Without tearing her eyes from the map, the woman at his side only gave a faint nod, indicating she had heard him.

Vilkas took Falka's hand between both of his, placing a kiss on her knuckles. "How did you meeting with the Jarl go, by the way?"

Finally, Falka turned to look at him. There was a weary look in her eyes, though, as she said, "Not too bad, I would say."

"Not too bad?" echoed Vilkas. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means that he did not throw me out the moment he saw me," Falka sighed, leaning against Vilkas' solid frame. "We spoke for quite some time, and he would not take the axe he gave me back."

"I noticed. So how's he holding up?"

"The man is bored out of his mind. Which might just make this foolish idea work."

When Jordis returned, she found the two Companions again bent over the map she'd brought.

"We believe it's most likely they have disappeared somewhere between Rorikstead and Dragon Bride," Vilkas filled her in.

"Aye," Jordis agreed. "That makes sense."

"So we'll start our search around the bridge and move south from there."

"The mountains between the Karth and the road…" Jordis pulled a face. "That's a lot of ground to cover, even for three people."

"Aye," Falka nodded. And, addressing Vilkas, she added, "We should send for reinforcements."

"Aye," Vilkas nodded, but his gaze remained glued to the map.

"When can we set out?" Jordis finally interrupted the spreading silence.

Across the table, Falka's face fell. "I… Vilkas, I cannot leave yet. I will gladly join you in your search, but…" she bit her lower lip, "I have to speak with the Jarl, first."

Gently, Vilkas took his wife's face between his hands. "I know," he spoke to her in a low voice. "I know."

"The Jarl?" The words had left Jordis' mouth before she could stop them.

Falka chuckled a dry laugh. "Balgruuf the Greater, former Jarl of Whiterun. And future, if everything goes according to the wishes of his people." And gesturing at her dress, she added, "I am here as envoy of the city, asking him to re-take his rightful seat."

"Oh."

"We need provisions for our journey, anyhow," Vilkas cut in. "So while you go and meet with Balgruuf tomorrow morning, Jordis and I will make the required preparations, and we can set off by noon." And, in a low voice, he added, "Farkas and Calla have to cope on their own a few hours longer."

After passing a short and restless night at the inn, they met up with Jordis just outside the inn. While Vilkas and Jordis went to buy some food for their journey, Falka again crossed the proud city for the Blue Palace. Again, she asked to be let in front of Balgruuf the Greater, and after only a short wait, the guards ushered her inside. Just as the day before, she was led along long corridors and through huge doors until, finally, she again stood in front of the man Whiterun had pinned its hopes on.

"My Jarl," she bowed. "Have you come to a conclusion?"

The blonde man then turned to face her, and with a glean in his eyes, answered, "By Talos, of course I am. I have been waiting for you since sunrise."

Within moments, Falka was running through the roads of Solitude, down towards the market.

"A courier? Is there a courier present?" her loud shouts rang across the marketplace by mid-morning. "I need the swiftest courier!"

During that time of the day, many people were going about their businesses on the marketplace, and many now stopped to stare at the Redguard woman wearing the regalia of Whiterun.

"A courier!" she again shouted across the plaza. "I need a courier! Is there one among you?" She searched the faces staring at her.

"Yes, milady," a man then stepped forward.

"Milady," another followed. And another. And another.

Vilkas, having recognized Falka's voice from afar, rounded the corner with Jordis in tow in time to hear Falka's next question.

"Who among you is the swiftest rider?"

The six men and women hesitated, before one stood forward. "I am."

"I want you to ride to Windhelm as quick as possible."

The courier nodded. "Where is your message?"

For an instant, a predatory smile flitted across Falka's face, but is was gone before anybody but Vilkas noticed. Falka pulled the courier aside, shaking her head. "No, this message won't be written down."

"Sera?"

"You will deliver a message to Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." And Falka made him remember the words she had prepared.

Before the rest of the crowd dispersed, Vilkas addressed the closest of the couriers. "I have a letter to be delivered to Whiterun," he said. "For Aela the Huntress, member of the Companions."

Around noon, once Falka had changed into her armour and their provisions had been divided into three packs, they were finally able to set out in search for the two missing people. Apart from a few words, they passed the road down to Dragon Bridge in silence, ever watchful eyes darting here and there. A few times, Vilkas halted to take in the surroundings, but if Farkas and Calla had left any traces on their way to Solitude one week earlier, the snow had covered them all up by then. Falka tried to copy Vilkas' behaviour, stretching her senses to their maximum reach, but Vilkas had had the better part of fifteen years to get accustomed to the additional edge granted to him by Hircine.

After asking for Farkas and Calla at the Four Shields Tavern in Dragon Bridge, the trio crossed the bridge into the Reach and into Forsworn country. Just south of the bridge, they left the road to check out a camp Jordis had made out as their first possible lead, but they found no traces of their missing friends there.

"My king?"

Ulfric looked up from the maps he was pondering over.

"A messenger has arrived, asking to see you," a soldier informed him.

"Send him in, then."

The soldier bowed, then retreated to let a young Dunmer into the room. "Ulfric Stormcloak?" the elf inquired.

Ulfric's eyes narrowed in displeasure, but he managed a slight nod of his head.

"I have a message for you. From the Harbinger of the Companions."

Of course. Of all the people in Skyrim, there was only one defiant enough to send a Dunmer. "Well?" Ulfric held out his hand in impatience. "Let's have it, then."

The courier shook his head. "It's not written down, you have to hear it from my mouth. It's confidential though…" He shot a telling glance towards Galmar, who was standing at the other end of the table.

"I have no secrets before my general, elf," Ulfric harshly informed the courier. "Say what you have to, then leave us."

"Very well, then." He took a deep breath, then relayed as he was told. "The Harbinger of the Companions sends me to inform Ulfric Stormcloak that he will not have the Harbinger's support in his claim as High King of Skyrim."

"I should have known," Galmar exploded. "Blasted Redguard, we should have never trusted her, that—"

"Silence, Galmar," the Jarl of Windhelm interrupted his general with a wave of his hand. "Let's hear the rest. Continue."

"She bids me to tell you, though, that if you allow the people of Whiterun to choose their own Jarl, you will find your claim to the High Seat backed by both the new Jarl of Whiterun as well as the Dragonborn. As token of her good faith, she sends you this."

The Dunmer produced a small leather bag and, just as he had been instructed by the Dragonborn, emptied its contents it on the table. Out spilled a small fortune in garnets, amethysts, rubies, and sapphires. Galmar whistled appreciatively.

"And who might this new Jarl be?" Ulfric asked after a few moments, his usually grand voice audibly shaken.

The elf shook his head. "I do not know, Ulfric Stormcloak. She only bid me to tell you as I did."

Thoughtfully, Ulfric stroked his beard, eyeing the gems spilled across the map. "The Dragonborn's support, you say?"

"Aye."

Still staring at the gems, Ulfric nodded.

At his side his general rumbled gruffly. "That is more than you could hope for, Ulfric."

"Aye. Do you have anything more for me, Dunmer?" Ulfric inquired.

The courier denied, and, once dismissed, gladly slipped out of the castle.

The snow of early spring was wet and heavy, making their progress through the wilderness slow and onerous. Two days out from Solitude, Jordis had to give up, finally having to admit to herself that the wintry wilderness was no place for a recuperating warrior. With tears of frustration shining in her eyes, she bade the two Companions goodbye, wishing them good luck on their journey before slowly, she started back towards Dragon Bridge.

Falka and Vilkas watched her receding form for a few moments before turning to face the mountains that lay between them and the Karth. Somewhere in this area, they would find Farkas and his friend, that much Vilkas was sure of.

Days passed, an endless line of camps, forts, and caves interrupted by short breaks during the deep hours of night, when exhaustion made it necessary to rest. Vilkas' ill feeling that something had befallen his twin and the girl grew, restlessly driving him on and on.

Two days after Jordis had left, their provisions ran out. Water was easy to acquire in these climates, especially when travelling with a mage proficient in fire magic. Food though, was an entirely different subject.

Five days after they had set out from Solitude, the two warriors stood on the mountain crest looking down into the bed of roaring Karth deep beyond them, and still they had found no trace of the missing pair.

In despair, Falka let herself sink to her knees without heeding the snow. And the snow was deep this far up in the mountains. She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting hard against tears of desperation.

"Red." A strong hand fell on her shoulder. "Don't."

"'f course not," she mumbled, sounding tired and disheartened. "Just…" She bit down on her lip. She felt so small, so indeterminably tiny, and the area they wanted to cover was so very huge. Vilkas, she knew, feared they were running out of time, and frankly Falka had to admit she already feared the worst. "Do we even know we are searching in the right direction? Or that they have not lost their way, maybe even fallen off some cliff into the river? Or that some—"

"Red," Vilkas whispered, sinking down on his knees in front of her. "Don't give up, please." He cupped her face in his hands, lifting her head so he could look into her eyes.

Through her despair, Falka managed a faint smile. "'m not," she mumbled. "'m despairing."

"Red, don't. Farkas and Calla need you." He paused, then added, "I need you."

A faint sob that Falka failed to hold back sounded in the silent wilderness. "How can we even hope to find him here, out in the middle of nowhere?"

Aela was just getting ready to leave when a courier burst into Jorrvaskr and pressed a letter into her hands.

"Aela," it read in Vilkas' handwriting. "Farkas and Calla never made it to Solitude, and I fear for the worst. We're starting our search south of Solitude and will progress south from there. Bring whoever you can, and find us as quickly as possible. Vilkas."

She re-read the letter a second time just to make sure she had not misunderstood the message, then dropped it to the ground. "Athis! Leif! Get your gear! We're leaving for the Reach!"