Agni remained under Movarth's spell until they were climbing the path that snaked up to Whiterun's plains. Behind them was the marshland where Morthal sulked, and midway through the climb Solitude had also become visible. Athene hadn't been kidding when she said the shadow reached them.
"I'm tired," the girl said. "I'm hungry. It's hot. We shouldn't be moving during the day."
"We don't have a choice." Athene brought out some stew she hoped was bloody enough and offered it to her charge.
Agni turned up her nose.
"I want a person," she said. "I want a little boy."
"There is no way I am bringing you a child to feed on. Do you know how sick that is?"
"You do," Agni said.
"You can't hurt me that way." Athene put away the stew and put her backpack on. She turned her feet up the hillside and hoped the girl followed.
She followed.
"I want a small boy I can suck dry."
"Stop it."
"Someone from Rorikstead. Have you heard of Rorikstead? I memorized a map. I was going to pass by here on my way to Winterhold. I was going to the College to learn magic. Falion used to go there."
"Did he really?"
"Yes. He was a great conjurer but he left because they were too strict about things."
"Things like necromancy?"
"Like what?"
"Never mind." Athene wished she hadn't said it. She tried to think of something else that would keep the girl talking and keep her off the topic of eating small children for dinner. Luckily Agni became lost in her memories and didn't speak again until they'd reached the plains.
"I'm tired," she said. "It's too hot. I hate the sun."
"We'll camp soon."
"Will we eat, then?"
Of all the things she'd considered while planning her route, finding victims for Agni was not one of them. It was stupid, really.
Athene sighed.
"I have an idea."
Donating blood to the creature she'd created seemed a small price to pay. To Agni's disgust Athene bled into a waterbag for a few minutes and then handed it over, rather than allowing her to latch onto her neck. She just thought it was safer, somehow. And she didn't want to use the Cure Disease potions unless she had to.
"It tastes of something," Agni said. "It's not good."
"I'm glad I'm not that delicious. Drink up and let's go."
"It's not you. You're delicious, like creamy, spiced pumpkin soup. It's the bag. It tastes like a dead thing."
"It is a dead thing. It's leather." Spiced pumpkin soup? The girl had only been with Movarth for a little while and he'd turned her into some kind of blood sommelier? "Are you done? Let's go."
She thought Agni's complaining would stop their trip in the early evening, but as soon as the sun began to fade she perked up and outpaced Athene, so they kept on going. The girl's chatter was a constant stream of observations and accusations. "Look, a deer! Look, a mucrab! You know you ruined my life?" At least her barbs were immature, undeveloped, and nothing hit hard enough to draw blood—so to speak. It was as if she echoed what she'd heard in the lair, and from Falion, rather than something she truly felt.
Athene hoped when the girl shared her true feelings about what had happened, she recognized it for what it was, and faced it full on.
It was nearing midnight when the horizon brightened ahead of them. Before the eastern mountains was a line of yellow that flickered, an unnatural sunrise.
Agni's footsteps had slowed and Athene wondered if she was finally tired. Then she realized she was just afraid of the light.
"It's like daytime there. I don't want to go."
Athene squinted. She couldn't make out anything. "What can you see?"
"Soldiers. Machines. And fire. So much fire."
The western watchtower rose out of the darkness beside them. Athene suddenly realized where they were.
"Whiterun," she said.