"No!"

"We have to talk about this! The Jarl is going to find out—everyone will eventually find out!"

"It's nothing! I'm fine! It… it was a fluke. I'm not—whatever! Get away from me!"

"You tore out its soul and rendered it naught but bone, girl! What power on Nirn do you think can do that on accident?"

"I said leave me alone!"

"What is she doing?"

Hadvar shrugged. "Playing tag."

Ralof stared at the man and then looked back at the town circle. Sabrin had cornered two kids on the other side of the town well and was feinting one way and then the other before finally darting left. The children ran off ahead of her, laughing breathlessly, and they all disappeared together behind one of the shops.

"And… you're letting her?"

Hadvar shrugged. "What am I supposed to do? Stop her? This is the first time she's smiled all day."

"Did she speak to the Jarl?"

"On sufferance."

"What did he say?"

The Legionnaire sighed and looked to blond before him. "He gave her a title and a home here—said he wanted to know that she had somewhere warm to lay her head. She even has a Housecarl." He snorted. "Not bad for a prisoner on the run."

"And the—"

"Yes. He told her about the Greybeards."

They had been in the road arguing when the sound, like an earthquake, had nearly knocked them off their feet. If Sabrin still planned to run off without saying anything to the Jarl personally, that plan had gone up in smoke.

Hadvar had simply been grateful that she had stopped her rambling denials long enough to listen to the man.

Ralof said nothing and simply watched the woman reappear, now the one being chased, and she made an impressive show of vaulting over some barrels and leaping the opened well before racing up the steps to the Cloud District.

Whatever she had been in her life before, these things appeared natural to her. She was lean and compact, too quick and too hard to be a stranger to the fight. In the crypt, he wasn't even sure the Draugr had scared her. She had seemed more put-upon—more inconvenienced—by them than anything.

"I must report this," he said, finally. "What has happened—what she is."

Hadvar glanced at him and then looked away again. "I know."

"Will you stop me?"

"Are you asking me to?"

"You know what I am asking."

The Legionnaire shifted his weight and then lifted himself away from the wall he had been leaning on. "I am no more ready to cut you down here than I was when you left Riverwood to join Ulfric," he said. "I told you before, you have to do what you think is right."

Ralof was still staring after the woman, though his mind was clearly somewhere else. "And you? I suppose you intend to keep an eye on her for your masters?"

"I am no more their slave than you are Ulfric's." Then Hadvar shrugged. "As for the girl, we will see. I too must report. She may or may not want to delay her visit to High Hrrothgar. If that is the case, we will part here."

The blond nodded and finally brought his eyes to meet Hadvar's. "Talos guard you," he said.

"He always has."

With that, the Stormcloak turned and headed for the gates.

Hadvar watched him go until the guards had opened the gates and he disappeared beyond them. He thought about them as boys together, when Riverwood had been sleepy and at peace, when battle had been a childish dream and not a nightmare waiting for them in the morning.

Sabrin suddenly jumped on him and he staggered as he tried to balance himself and her weight against his back.

"Where's Ralof going?" she asked, her chin propped on his shoulder.

"He's a soldier, Sabrin. He needs to report in and let others know he survived Helgen."

He felt her mood shift and she slid down his back and onto her feet, like a bit of melting ice.

"He could have said goodbye."

"He might intend to find you again."

"I thought he'd stay," she said when he faced her. "We were making a good team."

"He couldn't," he said. He took a breath. "And neither can I. There are things that General Tullius needs to know."

"Things?" Sabrin's face hardened and she was again the scowling, calculating prisoner he had pulled off the cart back at Helgen. "About me you mean? Because Divines forbid he not know."

"What do you think Ralof is doing?" Hadvar snapped back. "He'll go back to Windhelm and tell Ulfric he knows exactly who the Dragonborn is. Do you really think the Stormcloaks will let you rest once he knows?"

"And the Empire?"

He straightened and looked away. "I honestly can't say," he muttered. "Tullius doesn't know much about our ways. He may or may not put much stock in legends—even when they're living and breathing the same air. Once he knows of the Voice, though…"

"That I can do what Ulfric does."

"Yes."

Balgruuf had been the one to coax her into an attempt. On the great porch of Dragonsreach, when there had been enough space to even try it, she shattered a series of targets and an array of pottery and scared every servant in the Hold.

"I already told you, I don't want anything to do with your war."

Hadvar shook his head. "In time, you might not have a choice."

"Someone will make me choose?"

"This war isn't going to stay at this standstill. Everyone will eventually have to pick a side."

She looked around, her gaze traveling from one mark stand to another, to the flowers growing in the square, to the children in the street, and then she looked at him again. "I like my side." She looked him over and then brushed by him, making her way in the direction of her new home. "Enjoy your trip to Solitude."