A/N: Wow, sorry about the hiatus there. My plate has been a really full lately. But hey, let me know how guys are liking the Skyrim: Special Edition. It looked way cool! Hope you all enjoy the latest chapter (it's a little on the short side) and I thank you all for your continued support. I'll try to get the next chapter done sometime next week. Until then, stay hyped!

Chapter 2

Breaking Ice

The wagon bobbed up and down, the creak of the wheels sounded like the cries of small birds calling to each other. Captain Wayfinder looked at the road ahead of him and smiled. The trees seemed to be touched with a brush of green, though still mostly covered in snow. As was every other part of the forest they traveled through. Had anyone else had been looking at this road they would have found the climate to be identical to that of Dawnstar. However, being confined to one area for a lengthy period of time makes the little changes seem more significant.

Wayfinder raised his head from it reposed position, looking ahead to see where this frosted path would take them. The road seemed to stretch on a bit before it was blended with the horizon. Despite the painstakingly slow pace, the carriage was traveling at, the captain was still quivering with the excitement that came with exploring new areas. It was a similar feeling to exploring by sea, except less disorienting; no waves to bounce them about. The trip would be about nine hours more before they reached their destination. That's quite a long time to sit in awkward silence without paying proper tribute to one's driver.

"So, do you tote a lot of folks?" Wayfinder asked the coach sitting to his left, reins in hand. The expression on the man's face was particularly hard to read as it seemed to be overly focused on the road ahead of him. A furred hat with its tip draped over part of his face gave him an almost deceivingly pleasant air about him.

"Yes, it's how I make a living." He replied in a dull voice, not really wanting to talk.

Wayfinder could hear the man's strained tone and realized now was not the time for any conversation. However, his lips decided to ignore what his brain said and proceed with reckless abandon. "I imagine you must run into quite a bit of trouble with all the bandits and what have you."

"No."

"No? Well, I find that hard to believe, I mean look at the size of the trailer, it's huge! And what with that fancy cover over the back too, I mean anything could be in here. I myself find it rather tempting. You know, I don't believe I have ever seen one these with cover before. And I've traded with plenty of your type before." He stood up and contorted his body so that he was now facing the back of the trailer. The tarp was sturdy and thick to the touch. It may have even been able to withstand a fallen branch or two.

"It's actually a design from Elswayr, the Khajiit use it to keep the sands from storms from damaging their goods when they—"

"Ah!"

A small bump in the road had jolted the caravan upward sending the Captain propelling out of his precarious position and onto the driver's lap. His face landing atop the carter's thighs. Wayfinder's reflexes acted in a split second as he clawed his way back to his spot. The two sat in silence.

"…Y-you said the Khajiit built this, right?"

The glare Wayfinder received cooked his inside at low broil.

"Bunch a' thieving, pointed eared bastards," he spat out the words with a particular disdain and hurt. "They'd sooner sell their young for a vial o' skooma… Their carts, though… only good thing that ever came out of Ely way."

The race of felines from Elswayr had never wronged Wayfinder in one way or another but it was clear that this man had held some old grudge against them. This was an end he could work to regain the respect and friendship of his driver.

"Khajiit! Bah! Bunch cowardice thieving… CATS. Have I got a story about them!" This was one of the first, real, opportunities Captain Wayfinder had to make a new friend. Tell a story of grand adventure and intrigue is something any captain can do. Such an opportunity hardly ever came in Dawnstar, at least not with his reputation. However, his lips once again beat his brain to the punch. The excitement of making a friend had eclipsed the fact that he had actually never met a Khajiit. With panic prickling up his spine, he decided to tell one of his wife's stories. Most people seemed to like her stories better anyway.

"So, here I was in the middle of the war. Enemies on every side!" Wayfinder bellowed in his best story telling voice. "Our numbers were thinning and there seemed to be no means of escape for me or my fellow soldiers. I drew my—" He flinched as the reins cracked, echoing off the trees.

"I thought you told me you were Captain… of a boat." The driver asked nonchalantly.

Wayfinder broke the gaze and turned nervously away from the driver. The story hardly sounded anything like a sea captain would tell but maybe it was just vague enough to save.

Great, trying to make a friend through lying, this is going well. The wheels seemed to be laughing at him with their cruel squeaks and creaks. Despite the increasingly nervous air, the captain persisted in telling his story.

"Well, yes, a-a war boat, we were contracted to help fight the um…" Oh, divines, Imperials or Stormcloaks which one? The two contrasting armies had been at war for decades now. Each one fighting to preserve their own system of beliefs. The last thing Wayfinder needed was to politically insult his driver. How did his wife tell the story?

"The…Strom…cloaks?" The words were uttered with so little power it seemed the driver didn't even hear them.

"You told me your ship was a bartering vessel, contracted to bring people bread and mead."

"Yes! Well, you see… it was more than bread, a bit—a bit of void salt too…" he trailed off looking at his own feet. His body contorted in a closed, embarrassed stance. Falling on his driver and caught lying twice, not the best first impression he had ever but certainly not his worst either.

"Perhaps it is best we stay quiet until we reach Riverwood," Reasoned the driver.

"Yes, perhaps."

He shifted his whole body the other way now looking off to the side, too embarrassed to be looked at now. Trees continued on blocking most of the view. After a while of staring in complement with carts motion, certain trees began to line up with one another allowing quick glimpses to what laid beyond. Wayfinder noticed, though interrupted glances, a goat in the distance munching on what was most likely the only patch of grass for miles. For some reason, this occurrence felt almost supernatural. It was like suddenly realizing that you're not alone in the world.

He looked over his shoulder hoped his son was enjoying the ride more than he was. Riverwood would be a great place to live. A village between two major holds would definitely be a safe place to start a family. Falkreath on one side and his wife would only be a short walk away in Whiterun. In one of her letters, she had mentioned that there was a good lumber mill there. That would be a good place to start working. Finally, Wayfinder would be a follower and not a leader, much less expectations. A new life, though, that can be hard for anyone, especially kids.

In the back of the wagon laid Finnick. He was shrouded by the carts thick hide cover which cast the whole place in shadows. The foot-high pile of hay made for a soft, warm bed and added a very cozy feeling to the small space. The creaks and bumps reminded him of the way the Sea Squall used to rock; maybe going to a new place wouldn't be so bad after all. He tilted his head upward to see the rest of his body completely cover by the friendly straws. The sound of a thousand small barbs rubbing against wood lofted through the air as Finnick laughed out of sheer comfort.

He ran a hand, through his chaff blanket, along the side of his hip. Nothing was there.

Uh-oh, where is it!

He unearthed his legs from the hay and then his arms. Now sitting up, he swiped at his hair trying to free it of the stray strands of straw. While bracing his hands against the floor of the cart, he lifted up his midsection and examined his belt.

Not there either, did I drop it?

He felt around the floor of the wagon, shoving hey left and right. The wood had a very unwelcoming feel to it as Finnick placed his hand out it and hoped he wouldn't get any splinters. Then, his hand bumped a familiar metallic hilt. He grabbed hold of the handle and freed the dagger from the straw.

"I got you!" he cheered.

Finnick gazed over the leather handle. The blade sat in place in a well-made sheath. As he had done numerous times since Rorick had given it to him, he unsheathed the blade and admired the craftsmen ship. On the face of the blade engraved into the iron was a large F. The tail of the letter had swooped out and curved back upward matching the rest of the letters wave like appearance.

"See it looks kinda like the waves on the ocean," Rorick had explained. "Sorry, I really wanted to make you a steel one but iron was all we had."

"The F, that stands for Finnick right?"

Rorick looked amused at his friend's simplicity. "I would have gone with fool, but whatever you want I guess." He teased. "Anyway thanks for the rock… it's really… cool."

"It's a pearl! My mom gave it to me for my birthday. Don't lose it, please!"

The boys hated to say goodbye but these two items would help to make sure they never forgot each other. These little mementos were all they had to remember each other by, except for the other memento they shared. Finnick turned the hand that wasn't holding the dagger slightly, so he could see the back side of his hand. There was that dot-like cut. Hopefully, it would turn into a scar, if he was lucky.

Finnick collapsed in a lazy heap on the soft hay pile and stared at the dagger and backside of his hand.

He did as Seren had warned him. It was a very sharp blade if he wasn't using it; it was to be in its sheath. And so he slipped it in its case and fastened it to his belt. His eyes felt heavy from the anxiety of nightmares and excitement, an unusual combination both of which had him up last night. He rolled from his side and onto his back and looked up at the tarp that shielded him from the snow. So soon he would be in Riverwood, and begin anew.

[End of Chapter]