Cyréne looked at the pile of wolf in the wagon and then at Shaye, sizing her up.

"I'm going to try to save it" she said. "I could use your help if you'd like to come, and your silence if you wouldn't."

Shaye nodded, "I'll come with you, but where?"

"Up ahead, there's an outcropping of rock where the road turns. It's about 200 yards from the fort up ahead. It's been abandoned, and it's probably been taken over by bandits or something, but there's an entrance to the prison near the wall outside the fort. If we can hide long enough for the Vigilants to pass, we can get into the prison."

"Breaking into a prison . . . doesn't sound that great," Shaye said.

"I know," Cyrene agreed, "but the only other option is up an embankment to the left and we'd never get up there trying to take it with us. Plus it's only an overlook, so it's not very sheltered. And the prison has doors that can be barred from the inside, so once we get in and clear the place we can secure it somewhat."

"We'll never be able to carry this thing," Shaye muttered.

"Maybe I can heal it just enough so that it can help us . . . I don't know. And I don't know how it will react when it wakes up, but we can always put it in a cell until we find out."

"Alright, how are we going to do this?"

"Bjorlam," Cyréne said "Speed up until you get to the outcropping up ahead on the right and then slow down, enough for us to get off."

"What? You'll freeze to death out here!"

"Just do it, and then get to Winterhold as fast as you can. Don't say anything about this – just drop my stuff at the college, okay?"

"The Companions will have my hide!" he said.

"NO, they won't, because you're going to keep your mouth shut or I'll skin it for you right now!"

Bjorlam slapped the reins again and they sped forward. Cyréne pulled a tan colored bottle out of her bag and drank half.

"Strength potion" she said, handing it to Shaye.

Shaye downed it and strapped her travel bag around her shoulders. Cyréne dug whatever she could fit into her satchel out of her bags and secured it around her. They each grabbed one of the wolf's arms and got ready to jump.

"Okay," Cyréne said. "One, Two, THREE!"

They both pulled as hard as they could and the three of them tumbled to the ground behind the rocks. Cyréne and Shaye scrambled to their feet and pulled the wolf further back, covering their tracks as they went. Cyréne held up her hand and got ready to cast as the sound of horses approached.

"Invisibility," she mouthed.

She cast the spell and they waited in silence as the riders passed. They waited until the riders had completely passed the fort ahead and then hugged the rocks as they struggled with the wolf, one of them under each of its arms.

"We are stupid," Shaye said suddenly. "What are we doing?"

"I'm starting to wonder," Cyréne panted. "But I'm also thinking maybe we shouldn't revive it just yet."

They made it to the trap door and peered down into the dim corridor.

"I guess I need to check it out first," Cyréne said. "We can drop the wolf in, but there's no way we'll be able to lift him out."

Suddenly, the sound of approaching horses again hit their ears.

Shaye and Cyréne looked at each other and then heaved the wolf through the trap door. It fell to the floor in a heap.

Cyréne stifled a giggle. "I don't know why that was hilarious to me."

"Beeee-cause you're buzzed," a grinning Shaye accused, poking a finger at Cyrene's chest.

They climbed in, and leaving the wolf alone for a moment, sent sneaking through the dim corridors.

Cyréne pointed up the stairs, "Those doors lead to the courtyard and the ones straight ahead lead to the holding cells."

They crept up the stairs, opened the prison doors slowly and looked around. Cyréne pointed to a woman dressed in black sitting at a table across the room. She heard the creaking of a skeleton and jerked her head to the right.

"Necromancer," Shaye whispered. She pulled a bottle of poison out of her bag and dipped three arrows, laying two of them on the ground and nocking the third.

Shaye's first arrow hit home and the woman in black slumped to the floor. She knocked another one just in case, and fired as the skeleton came running up the stairs. They cleared the room and headed back down the stairs. They barred the doors to the courtyard and then headed back through the corridors. When they reached the spot where they left the wolf, they froze.

"Oh shit!" Shaye squeaked. "Where did it go?"

A snarl sounded from behind them – close, behind them. Cyréne spun and sent a jolt of sparks through the wolf's body. It collapsed onto the floor.

"It may be pissed at me for that later," she said.

"Let's get it into a cell."

They dragged the limp wolf down the stairs. Cyréne gathered extra hay from the surrounding cells and added it to the pile in the first one, before spreading a bedroll over it. With a last monumental effort they pulled the beast onto the bedroll and flopped down on the floor, breathing heavily.

"Ugh! Wet dog smell," Shaye said with a grimace.

"Let's just hope it's house-trained." Cyrene said dryly. "I'll start checking it over, if you want to check around for supplies – I saw some barrels upstairs, and there's a fire pit by the door."

Shaye nodded and got up to leave. "Are you sure I should leave you alone with that thing?" she said, turning back.

Cyréne grinned and brought sparks to her fingers, "Zap-zap, baby!"

Shaye headed up the stairs and Cyréne began nervously checking the wolf for injuries. She ran her hands over it gently. They came back wet with blood when she touched its right flank. Something shiny was stuck to her fingertip.

"Silver, of course," she muttered. "Ok, wolf, I'm trying to help you, so please don't maul me."

"I won't!" It growled. "Keep your sparks to yourself!"

Cyréne jumped and pressed her hand to her heart. "Holy shit! You scared the Oblivion out of me!"

After a moment, her racing pulse slowed down and she spoke again. "Can I work on you while you're . . . like this, or do you want to change . . . it, uh . . . would certainly help with the . . . um, fur if you did."

It growled softly.

"I'll go get a blanket. I'll be right back." She closed the cell door behind her and sped up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" Shaye said.

Cyréne grinned. "Our friend is awake and apparently was for the whole trip down the stairs. It told me to keep the sparks to myself."

"Nice," Shaye said, "so, male or female?"

"I don't know yet."

"Let's hope for delicious male with a strong desire to show gratitude," Shaye whispered.

"I can hear you!" came a loud snarl.

Shaye clapped a hand over her mouth, and Cyréne closed her eyes and swallowed back a fit of giggles before heading down the stairs with the blanket and her satchel. She approached the cell carefully and unlocked the door. The wolf was lying on its side, facing away from her.

"Here," she said, in what she hoped was a soothing voice. "Let me put this over you and then you can change, okay?"

The wolf didn't respond. Cyréne covered it with the blanket and stepped away, averting her eyes.

"It's not a good idea to take your eyes off of a wild animal," said a decidedly masculine voice.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yes."

She kept her eyes on the floor as she approached. She knelt beside him and pulled her bag to her.

"You're not going to look at me?"

"If you want me to, I will – but I understand if you'd rather me not see your face."

"I think we're beyond that," he said dryly, before wincing in pain.

Cyréne's eyes flew to his face, "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere" he said turning to look at her

They regarded each other for a moment. His dark brown hair fell to his chin and was covered with dirt, as was his un-kept beard. Chocolate brown eyes stared back at her. She couldn't tell if he was tan or dirty.

"How long have you been out there?" she asked.

"That bad, huh?"

She nodded. "It's pretty bad. We need to get you cleaned up, so I can check your wounds – but first we need to get that silver out of you."

Shaye appeared with a bucket of warm water and some linen strips.

"Okay, this isn't hot, but it should do . . . Oh, hello. I'm Sha-uh, Tina."

"Hello Sha-uh-tina," he said with his eyes narrowed.

Shaye smirked at him. "Neither appreciative, nor delicious – isn't that just our luck."

She plopped the bucket of water down and headed back upstairs.

Cyréne smiled to herself and dipped a piece of linen in the water. "Where should I start?"

"How about with your name?"

"Oh-ho! Flirting are we? You must be feeling better than I thought. My name is Cyréne. Now, which injury should I start tending first?"

"You tell me," he said, lying back on the bedroll. They all feel equally hellish at the moment. And I am house trained."

"Good to know. I don't want to have to let you out every few hours."

He made a small sound that sounded somewhat like a chuckle, before wincing in pain. "My name is Brand."

"Alright, Brand, where does it hurt the most?"

"My right side"

"Roll over so I can see."

He rolled over carefully and she folded the blanket down to his waist. A huge gash covered his side from his ribcage to below the blanket. Smaller slashes radiated out from the middle and silver fragments were embedded in all of them.

"My gods!" she gasped, "What did they do to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Mentally kicking herself for her outburst, Cyrene touched one of the silver shards with the tip of her finger. It stuck. She brushed it off of her finger and tried another piece.

"Well, the smaller pieces are coming out easily. Let me know if the pain gets too bad for you."

"Trust me," he groaned, "anything you do will . . . I will have had worse."

She worked for an hour getting the tiny pieces out, during which time he fell asleep. Once she was sure she had them all, she wet another piece of linen and touched it to the wound. Brand startled awake and grabbed her around the neck with a snarl. Cyréne didn't struggle, although her eyes widened. He stared at her for a moment and then pulled his hand away. "I'm . . . I'm s-"

"It's fine," she interrupted.

Another hour passed and the wound was finally clean and closed.

"It's going to scar, I'm afraid," Cyrene commented. "You have some broken ribs on this side, and no telling what else. I'll let you recover for a while and then we can start again"

Shaye came down the stairs just then, balancing three bowls of food.

"Dinner is served, compliments of whoever left this stuff here. Holy shit! What the hell happened to you?" She said, looking at the jagged red scars along Brand's exposed side.

He glared at her and pulled the blanket up.

"Hostile," she muttered.

"Thanks," Cyréne said, as Shaye handed her a bowl. "This is Brand."

Brand devoured his food and Shaye handed him her bowl. "I ate upstairs, and there's more if you want it."

"You should probably go easy, after that bowl," Cyréne cautioned. "I don't want you to get sick on top of everything else."

He grunted and handed both empty bowls to Shaye. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm so glad we did this, Cyréne. It's just loads of fun."

"Sorry," Cyréne said. "My spur of the moment ideas aren't always the best."

"Drunken logic," Shaye muttered. "Just do your thing and let's get out of here as soon as possible. This place gives me the creeps."

Shaye took Cyrene's empty bowl from her and headed upstairs. Cyréne turned back to Brand. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Um, okay . . . how about you keep the valuables covered while I check you as thoroughly as possible, without us getting too well acquainted."

He adjusted the blanket, so that she could check him over, uncomfortable at being seen in his filthy state. Cyréne reset his broken ankle, wondering how he'd managed to run on it, and then healed a gash on his thigh, pretending not to notice the rise in the blanket when she did. Brand gritted his teeth and tried to think about something besides the tingling going on right below his groin. She reset the broken ribs and began pressing gently on his stomach, searching for tenderness. Finding none she handed him a health potion and cast a final powerful spell that whooshed around him.

"I'm going to see if I can find some clothes for you. I'll leave the water bucket."

Cyréne left him lying there and trudged up the stairs.

"I am so tired," she said to Shaye.

"No kidding, you've been at it for hours down there, and not in the fun way. And I don't care if you can hear me in-grate!" she said a little louder.

Cyréne grinned, "Just jump him already. Here, take him these, will you?" She handed Shaye a shirt, pants and boots from a nearby chest.

"Yeah, yeah,"

Shaye walked silently down the stairs and stopped outside Brand's cell. He'd dropped the blanket and was scrubbing himself clean. She leaned on the door and watched.

"Nice ass," she said, after a while. "Wanna turn around and give me the full view?"

Brand turned around and looked at her without hesitation or amusement. "Lady, you need to get laid, badly."

She stared down at his manhood, "Looks like you could help me with that, no problem."

"Can I just have the clothes, please?"

"Maybe," Shaye grinned menacingly. "How about you earn them?"

"How about you just give them to me?"

"Or what?"

"CYRÉNE!" he called

"What?"

"Oh, here!" Shaye said, shoving the clothes at him. "Wimp!"

She stomped up the stairs and stuck her tongue out at Cyréne, who was trying not to laugh.

"You'll get him next time," Cyréne grinned.