Erik looked up from the anvil as the sun began to set.

His work was finished, his armor was complete. He had M'rissi help him into the armor for a first fit.

"A bit heavier than what I'd like—but it'll work," Erik said, lowering the helmet onto his head. "How do I look?"

"You look very big and strong—she likes it," M'rissi replied. "But your shoulders—you should cover them too."

"I can make some pauldrons tomorrow. It's getting late," Erik said.

"Damn, that doesn't look half bad, boy," Alvor said, walking up and smiling. "How's it feel?"

"Heavier than I expected, but it'll work."

"Well, in any case," Alvor said, producing a folded hide and fur cloak and handing it to M'rissi. "Put that on, see how it feels."

M'rissi nodded and slipped the cloak on. Erik could hear a soft purr from the young Khajiit.

"M'rissi likes it. She thanks you for these pelts," M'rissi said, smiling and yawning. "M'rissi is also tired…"

"Yeah, I'm pretty spent too," Erik admitted, stretching. "Alvor, thank you for the help, but M'rissi and I are going back to my cabin for the day. I think we'll start heading North tomorrow. I'm—sorry for putting you and Sigrid in harm's way."

"Don't apologize for doing what's right. You did a good thing by doing what you did," Alvor replied and turned to M'rissi. "Make sure he doesn't get himself killed, Erik may think he's smarter than the average Nord because of his fancy magic, but he's still a Nord."

"Hey!" Erik laughed.

M'rissi giggled and nodded.

"M'rissi will be sure to keep him safe—after all, how else will she repay him for saving her from the mercenaries?"

Alvor smiled and nodded and Erik gave a few more parting words before he and M'rissi left Alvor and returned to the cabin.

"Gods—it's been such a long day," Erik groaned, setting his shield on a bench and taking his armor off.

"You know—it has been a very long time since M'rissi had a friend. She is glad she ran into you—she is sorry that you have to leave your home," the Khajiit said.

"Don't be sorry," Erik replied. "I was planning on leaving Skyrim anyways—this civil war, the Thalmor, Ulfric—it's just too much." Erik sighed as he sat on the bed he gave to M'rissi.

"Still—you shouldn't have to run because your life is in danger because of M'rissi."

Erik shrugged.

"Sometimes the gods give us unexpected paths to follow," he said as M'rissi sat next to him. "I don't mind it—because I know I won't have to face any of it alone."

M'rissi looked away and sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shrunk into herself.

"Hey," Erik spoke up, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Is something bothering you?"

M'rissi shook her head, but the tears that welled in her eyes betrayed her.

Erik sighed, moving to give the girl a hug, but he paused, remembering the scratch she gave him the previous night.

"Is it okay if I give you a hug?" he asked.

M'rissi hesitated, but nodded, gasping as she felt Erik's thick arms wrap around her and pull her into his embrace.

M'rissi could feel an uneasy feeling build in the pit of her stomach. She knew the feeling well, and she hated it. She hated the feeling of guilt. Guilt for tearing this man from his home, guilt for putting him in a situation where he had to kill. Guilt, because he was such a nice man, and yet the chances of him living through this were slim.

She knew at some point, Isael would find her, she always did.

"Sometimes the gods give us unexpected paths to follow," Erik said as she sat next to him. "I don't mind it—because I know I won't have to face any of it alone."

You shouldn't have to face it at all.

M'rissi looked away and sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as she shrunk into herself.

"Hey," she heard Erik speak up and felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. "Is something bothering you?"

Yes…

M'rissi shook her head, but the tears that welled in her eyes betrayed her.

You should stay here—live your life.

But—if you do, you'll be captured and tortured, because of her.

This is her fault…this is all her fault.

"Is it okay if I give you a hug?" Erik's voice pulled M'rissi from her thoughts.

M'rissi hesitated. She wanted to say 'no', but everything in her begged her to accept his kindness. It wasn't something she wanted—it was something she needed, but something stopped her. The fear of pain, the fear of the past repeating itself, but—this man—Erik, he's gone so far for her, would he really do all of that, for a stranger no less, if he intended on hurting her in the end?

For once in her life, M'rissi decided to give in to her needs, and not her fears.

M'rissi gave a quick nod, and was surprised when she felt Erik's thick arms wrap around her, without hesitation, and pull her into his embrace. Even though he smelled of sweat and soot, M'rissi couldn't help but lean into the hug.

She was like a starving animal gulping down food for the first time in weeks—only that food was the affection she'd been deprived of for her whole life.

Her tears pooled and streaked her cheeks as she sobbed quietly into Erik's chest.

His fingers ran through her hair, and he leaned in and whispered the words that she felt like she'd waited her whole life to hear.

"It's okay—you're safe with me."

Even if it was just for a day, an hour, hell, even if it was just for a moment—M'rissi wanted to believe his words. She felt safe in Erik's big, strong arms—but she knew that as long as Isael lived, she would never be safe.

But she knew she couldn't.

He had no idea the power that her adopted mother held.

M'rissi shook her head, drying her tears as she pulled away.

"She is not…" she said. "She will never be safe as long as Isael lives. She is weak."

"Weak?" Erik raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "What makes you think you're weak?"

"It's just what she has been told. Showing emotion, being defeated so easily—it makes one weak."

"Maybe to a High Elf," Erik replied. "To me, I see someone who's probably been through more shit than I'll ever go through in my life, yet she still had the strength to escape it, travel Skyrim, and even took out two mercenaries and a dog. That's not weak. Crying certainly doesn't make you weak."

"Isael would disagree."

"Isael can kiss the whitest part of my arse," Erik said, making M'rissi giggle. "Don't let anyone say that you're weak because you have emotions."

"Thank you…" M'rissi whispered, curling up to him and purring. "M'rissi—does not want to sleep alone tonight."

"I can sleep on the floor, if you want."

"On the floor? Erik—M'rissi will not make you sleep on the floor of your own home!"

"Then where?"

"She is fine with you sleeping in the bed—she welcomes it, even. M'rissi would not mind being held by someone so…"

"Strong?"

"Kind." M'rissi smiled and looked up to him.

"Well—if you promise you won't scratch me again, I wouldn't mind keeping you company," Erik replied, running his fingers through her hair.

M'rissi smiled for a moment, but sighed.

"It is an odd feeling, M'rissi has not known such kindness—and yet the one to show it to her is a complete stranger."

"Fate can be odd sometimes," Erik chuckled. "It's getting late. If you want me to stay—I wouldn't mind."

"She wants you to stay," M'rissi said, lying next to him.

Erik smiled and wrapped his arms around M'rissi as he laid down behind her.

M'rissi's purr got louder as she allowed herself to relax. She felt Erik pull her closer to him, and she closed her eyes and slipped into slumber, where she was reminded that even though her body was at ease—her mind was not.

When she opened her eyes, she was in a familiar windowless room.

She knew where she was.

M'rissi whimpered, her heart pounded, and she shrunk into herself. She felt like a kitten again, scared of the one person she should have been able to trust.

As she pulled her knees to her chest, she felt something bump into her knee—and she realized she had a snout.

M'rissi gasped and shot up, running to a vanity lit by a single candle.

She touched her lynx-like face and let her claws graze the side of her cheek.

But then she felt pain, unimaginable pain that coursed through her body like lightning.

She felt her bones break and heal; her face felt like it had been crushed, and she let out a pained scream as a golden-skinned woman with snow-white hair and an angular face appeared behind her.

Erik woke to M'rissi's tossing and turning in his arms. She whimpered and winced. Her body jerked around; her ears lain flat against her head.

The Nord held her still with a gentle grasp.

"Hey!" he whispered. "M'rissi, wake up—"

"No! Let her go! Let M'rissi go!" the Khajiit cried out and struggled against his grasp.

Careful to keep her clawed hands in place, Erik held her, shaking her to try to wake her.

Then her eyes shot open, and their eyes locked.

"Erik…"

"You were having a nightmare," Erik replied, sitting up and sighing as he lit a candle. "Are you okay?"

M'rissi started to hyperventilate, sitting up with him and pulling her knees to her chest.

"She—she does not know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"She does not—she does not like talking about her past," M'rissi replied as she tried to calm herself down.

"Then I won't make you," he assured her and offered to hold her, an offer she took. "Take a breath," he told her, taking deep breaths. Soon, M'rissi followed his lead.

Her breathing calmed down, became less jagged, more controlled—her panic gave way to calm.

"Are you okay now?"

M'rissi looked up and nodded as she dried the tears from her eyes.

"She is sorry. The nightmares—they are why she doesn't sleep often."

"I see…" Erik sighed, nodding. "Well, I guess that's one thing I can't help with—but if you ever want to talk about them, I'm here."

"She knows—M'rissi thanks you," she replied, cuddling up on Erik's lap. "She thinks—it is best if we leave today. M'rissi knows Isael well. She would have had the mercenaries followed."

"I was thinking the same thing," Erik replied as he stroked M'rissi's hair. "I was thinking, we could head up to Whiterun, get some supplies, then head out."

"That sounds like a good plan, but what will we do about M'rissi's arm? She cannot fight with a bow if she does not have both hands."

"As much as I know you hate it, if you want to be ready to fight by the time we leave—you need to take a health potion."

M'rissi sighed and nodded.

"She knows. She does not like it, but she knows."

Erik smiled and leaned over, digging into his nightstand and producing a small vial of red liquid.

M'rissi sat up and cringed at the potion, taking it into her hands and popping the cork off.

The Khajiit hesitated, taking a whiff of the elixir and turned away.

"It smells foul. M'rissi will need something to wash this foul mixture away when she is done."

"Yeah—they're not too pleasant," Erik replied, chuckling.

M'rissi sighed and downed the bottle. She coughed and gagged, handing the bottle to Erik.

"She does not like that taste!" M'rissi whined. "But—at least her arm is healed," she sighed and unwrapped her arm, which now had a deep, newly healed, scar where her injury once was. "Another thing to repay—she supposes."

"You don't need to repay me at all, M'rissi. How's it feel?"

"She cannot feel her forearm—it is numb, but she can move well enough."

"Well, you'll probably have to drink another one of those potions if you can't hold the string."

M'rissi nodded and traced her scar with her fingers.

"Just—give her another."

"Are you sure?" Erik asked.

"She is," M'rissi nodded.

Erik shrugged and searched his nightstand for his last Health Potion and gave it to her.

As M'rissi downed the elixir, her scar gave off a soft glow, shrinking in size and depth.

"That—feels much better," M'rissi smiled. "Her arm is no longer numb, thank you."

"Good," Erik said, getting up, putting his armor on and grabbing his sword. "It's still dark out—if we want to have any luck leading the Thalmor away from Riverwood, we should head out now."

"How much food do we have?" M'rissi asked as Erik grabbed a leather backpack and a couple of black leather bags, stuffing the latter with as much food as they could carry.

"About a week's worth—just enough to get there, but we'll need to get a couple of tents and some waterskins, and another bag for you," Erik replied as he lit the fireplace and M'rissi grabbed her cloak from the floor, putting it on. "Maybe an axe for good measure."

"Erik—M'rissi does not want a separate tent. She feels safe with you—she would like to sleep in your tent," M'rissi spoke up. Erik looked back and noticed a feint blush on her face. He nodded, slinging his empty backpack over his shoulder.

"Still—we'll need a fur tent for the cold. Leather tents are good at keeping rain out, but terrible at keeping heat in," he told her as he handed her one of the black bags. "I have to admit—it's a little hard to believe that I'm leaving this place. It feels like yesterday that I finished building it."

M'rissi paused, wrapping her fingers around his arm in a soft grip.

"You don't have to leave with her. She can fight on her own."

Erik hesitated, but grabbed the bow and quiver off his bench and handed them to her.

"No, I do. For the safety of myself, of Alvor and his family—I need to leave. But—don't feel bad, because if I had the chance to go back and redo what happened when we met, I wouldn't change a thing."

Erik gave a kind smile as M'rissi took the weapon into her hands. Then he turned his attention to his fireplace, forming a ball of fire in his hand.

"What are you going to do?" M'rissi asked, staring down the magic in his hand as Erik opened the front door.

"Leave no trace behind," Erik replied and unleashed a stream of fire into the fireplace.

The flames exploded and spread onto the walls and floor of his home. As the pair crested the bridge that connected Riverwood to the path that lead to Whiterun, Erik turned back to see the warm glow of fire above the town's wall.

"No turning back now…" Erik muttered to himself, turning back to his companion, who flashed a smile and lifted the hood of her cloak to cover her face before they continued on their path to the Hold capital.