Shaye met Cyréne's eyes and waited for her to recoil, but she didn't. She held Shaye's gaze and kept her hands by her sides. Shaye watched her process the information and for the first time in a long time felt a twinge of fear.

"Shaye," Cyréne said - her voice still deathly calm, "please answer me honestly. Were you part of what happened in Whiterun two nights ago?"

Shaye's heart skipped a beat. "I was there, but it wasn't my fault! I never even fired an arrow. It was a new recruit, and he just went crazy. We weren't even on a contract; it was just supposed to be a training exercise."

"You do realize that he aimed for my throat first."

Shaye paled, "No, I did not realize that. I knew I had to get out of there the second he drew his bow, and that's what I did."

Cyréne nodded. "Alright, I'll believe that. Now, tell me why you were on the carriage to Winterhold. Do you have a contract there?"

"No."

Cyréne's eyes saddened. "I see. Are you here to make an attempt on my life, then?"

Brand stood abruptly. His chair skidded back and topped over.

Shaye glared at him. "Just try it, you overgrown mutt, and see what happens."

"What?" he said, mockingly. "Are you going to fuck me to death?"

"Brand, that's enough!" Cyréne interjected. "Listen to what she has to say."

"She's a damn assassin Cyréne; you can't trust what she has to say!"

Cyréne looked over at him. "And you deserve to die because you're a werewolf, right?"

He quieted momentarily, but didn't relax.

Cyréne looked back at the assassin in question. "Shaye?"

Shaye's eyes were panic stricken. By sithis, what am I doing? What am I saying? Why?

Cyréne's stepped foreards and gripped Shaye's shoulder, staring deep into her eyes. "The truth is the only thing that can save you now, so tell it."

"I was researching you as a potential target for assassination, there's no contract out on you or anything. I just thought . . . that a high profile target would . . . improve things for my family. That's the truth, I swear it."

"Have you made your decision?"

"Yes."

"And what is it?"

"That you're too dangerous to take out. You have too many allies, and the potential retaliation could wipe us out. I'm crossing you off the list."

Cyréne sighed in relief and to Shaye's extreme shock, pulled her into a quick embrace and then stood back with her arms crossed. "Thank the gods. I'm so glad I don't have to kill you."

Shaye's eyes narrowed. "Think you could take me, Cyréne?"

"In a heartbeat"

Shaye grinned, "That's why I wouldn't let you see me coming."

"Fair enough," Cyréne answered. "But if you ever try it, you better hope you don't miss."

Brand looked from one of them to the other. "Are you both out of your damn minds? I must be losing it. That cannot have just happened."

Shaye cut her eyes at him, "Well we did rescue a potentially killer werewolf last night, so I'd say this is about normal for us."

"Alright," Cyréne said, "now, who were these people you killed."

"I'm not sure, but they all had tons of Cure Disease potions on them and all of their weapons were made of silver."

Cyréne and Brand exchanged a look that made Shaye very uncomfortable.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"They call themselves the Silver Hand. They're a radical off-shoot from the Vigilants of Stendarr—"

"Wait," Shaye interrupted, "more radical than the Vigilants?"

"Yes," Cyréne continued. "They claim to be werewolf hunters, but they don't hesitate to capture and torture anyone they run across, wolf or not. They are dangerous and show no mercy. They're the reason Brand had that giant gash in his side."

"We need to get out of here," Shaye said.

Cyréne nodded. "I think our best bet is to make for the College. We're not that far away, and if we stick to the main road, there will be guards on patrol by the time we're halfway there." She looked over at Shaye, "unless you think you'd be safer returning to your home."

Shaye shook her head. "I can't chance leading them there. I'm going with you."

"Brand?"

"I'm with you two. If we do get attacked, it's going to take all three of us to survive it. But what's to keep them out of the College?"

"The gates are sealed with powerful magic, and even if they weren't we could pick them off like sSkeevers while they were crossing the bridge."

Shaye perked up suddenly, "Well there is one thing, dead men don't ride horses, so we have transportation."

Cyréne looked over at Brand again. "Don't worry; I can cast a courage spell over one of them so you can ride."

"Alright," he said, "Let's do this."

"Shaye, what weapons can you use?" Cyréne asked.

"Um, basically just my bow and a dagger"

"What about you Brand?"

"I can use whatever we find, but I'd rather not have anything slower than a greatsword."

"What about a bow?"

"Of course," he snorted. "I'll use a rock if I need to."

Their search yielded a couple of iron axes and Imperial swords as well as an iron chest plate, boots and helmet that fit Brand fairly well. Shaye pulled her Brotherhood armor out of her bag and slipped into it. Cyréne pulled her cloak around her and hoped wards would be enough of a defense if they were engaged. They made their way out cautiously.

Cyréne cast a courage spell on the horses and then conjured Apollo and Janus. They looked at her expectantly.

"You're both taking point against human and predator threats. Don't engage any animal bigger than you – we need you at full strength. Go sniff those dead guys and then keep your noses to the ground for more like them. Sound the alarm if they're near."

The wolves sped off to investigate the dead Silver Hand. Apollo sniffed then and curled his lips back a grimace of disgust.

"Tell me about it," Brand muttered.

Janus was business as usual and let out a snarl before returning to Cyréne. They made their way to the main road, with the wolves crossing paths as they circled forward and back, alert for threats. Winterhold was almost in sight when both wolves let out bone-chilling howls.

"Shit!" Cyréne cursed. "Do you see them?"

The snow was blowing so hard that it was difficult to see anything. Janus and Apollo came running up and formed a snarling wall of wolf behind the horses.

"They're behind us!" Brand yelled.

An arrow whizzed by.

"I know when it's time to run," Shaye yelled, her voice almost drowned out by swirling wind and snarling wolves, "and it's time to run!"

They kicked the horses forward and sped toward the town. Almost immediately, they began to pass guards who grabbed weapons and engaged their pursuers. Apollo was hot on the horses' heels, but Janus couldn't stand it. He raced back toward the enemy, and with a powerful spring from his back legs, ripped a rider off his horse and tore his throat out.

Cyréne missed his presence almost instantly. She spun her horse. "Janus!" He came racing back, satisfied with having downed at least one of them. Cyréne kicked her horse around again, but the delay had cost her precious time. She bit back a scream as an arrow pierced her shoulder. The second arrow got her horse in the flank and it went down. Her instinct was to scramble toward Winterhold, but if Vilkas had trained anything into her it was to never turn your back on an enemy. She flattened herself against the side of the steep cliff bordering the road, took a deep breath and swallowed a scream of agony as she snapped the arrow shaft in half and pulled the front part out of her shoulder. She cursed again when she noticed lingering traces of poison on the arrow head.

Two Silver Hand came thundering toward her position. They didn't see her, and they certainly didn't expect the rain of arcane fire that burnt them to a crisp. A third warrior was right behind them, and narrowly escaped the same fate. He shot her a murderous look and came galloping toward her with his sword drawn. Cyréne was running low on magika reserves. To buy herself some time she cast a fire rune right in front of his horse. It exploded and the horse reared up throwing the man to the ground. An arrow that she recognized whizzed by her and struck the man in the throat. A second one flew by and impaled him through the eye.

Shaye! Cyréne grinned.

Janus snarled and attacked him just for good measure.

Brand was riding back to her with Apollo on his heels and swung her up behind him. She looked back over her shoulder – woozy, vision beginning to blur - and saw Apollo race past Janus with a howl and throw himself into an attack. Janus's head snapped up and he ran after him. Cyréne could barely make out the scream of a horse and a rider spinning into retreat. Her stomach dropped. There was a witness; he'd seen all of them. If the wolves couldn't bring him down . . .

She was getting too far away from them and they were forced to pull back. Janus strained against the pull snapping and snarling, but finally had to give in.

They didn't get him.

She sagged against Brand's back and grasped the arm he reached around to her, willing herself to stay lucid, until they reached the college.