The sun began to set on the third day of traveling with the Khajiit caravan. Amarathine was designated wood gatherer while Ra'zhanda set up the fire pit. Ma'dran set out to catch supper, and Ma'jhad was in charge of setting up the tents.

Amarathine wandered out of sight of the camp in search of fallen branches. Traveling with the trio turned what was going to be a daunting journey into something more joyful. Talking with them all day made time fly by and the ache of her legs into a distant afterthought.

It was a shame that cities would not let them into their walls, but the Khajiit thrived on selling their wares, even stopping as they traveled to sell a trinket or two.

Ma'dran rejoined the camp shortly after Amarathine and Ra'zhinda started the fire, in his clawed hands hung three dead rabbits. He passed them to Ma'jihad and sat down. The fire blazed, warming the small group. It was a somewhat pleasant night, there was no bone chilling wind for once, a rare occasion for Skyrim. Amarathine didn't even need to wrap herself in her cloak, it was a nice feeling.

After a supper comprised of rabbit stew and some fruit from Amarathine's bag, the caravan travelers chatted amongst each other. Amarathine leaned back on her hands looking up at the starry sky while idly listening to the Khajiits' stories. Though the Khajiit made great company, her thoughts wandered back to the sisters—her sisters. Surely, they were doing fine without her. Perhaps she could write to them when she moved to Helgen, invite them over and pay them back for everything they'd done for her.

That was, if she was able to afford a house in Helgen. Would the people there be friendly? Though Altmer weren't discriminated against like the Khajiit and Argonians, the word spy was a familiar one to her ear.

It was only after her fellow soldiers experienced her utter lack of skill with weapons and magic did they accept her for what she was. A High Elf woman.

At least her lack of skill kept her from the army. The lowly position of guard duty was all she could hope for, and it was granted.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

"Goodnight," she bid to the others, getting up.

"Dream of warm sands," Ra'zhinda responded as she nodded with the other two Khajiit.

She smiled. "I will."

She climbed into the tent she shared with the female Khajiit and curled up in her bed roll. Pulling the cover around her shoulders, she drifted off.

…

The afternoon of the next day they made it to Dragon Bridge. It was a dull cloudy day, reflecting how Amarathine felt in her heart. She would have happily traveled with Khajiit caravan all the way down to Helgen.

"I won't forget your generosity," she blinked her blurry eyes. The trio stood where they were planning on setting up for the next week.

Ra'zhinda grinned, pulling the Altmer into her armor covered arms. "This one is so emotional!"

"No I'm not!" Amarathine defended, hugging the Khajiit woman in return. She looked up from Ra'zhinda's shoulder at Ma'jhad and Ma'dran who stood just behind the feline woman she was embracing. The former smirked with his hands on his hips, the latter shaking his head at her with a similar expression.

After Ra'zhinda released her, Ma'dran presented her with a dagger. "It is a gift from Ma'dran, this one may need it on her journey."

"Thank you Ma'dran," Amarathine took the dagger, once again blinking back tears. These Khajiit were so kind and generous, the opposite of what she had always been told. "May this one walk on warm sands, and our paths cross again."

It was now Ma'jhad's turn. The silent Khajiit merely put a hand on her shoulder and nodded briskly. She noticed the ghost of a smile on his feline face.

Pushing aside the sinking feeling she took a deep breath and smiled back at him.

After a final goodbye, she turned towards the great stone bridge and continued her journey.

…

A few more days passed since parting with the Khajiit. The days seemed to last longer, and the nights, colder. She greeted other travelers when she saw them, she met only a few each day, most in carriages. Too bad she didn't have money, it looked so much easier.

The evening sun was bright and warm as she approached a gorge with watchtowers overlooking it. Amarathine assumed it was a guard post, seeing as it was overlooking the main roadway.

The buildings on either side of the road were connected by a wooden bridge. A man in hide armor stood from a chair at the side of the road. Others appeared from the entrances of buildings. They did not look like guards of any kind.

Which meant, they must have been bandits. But she was an Imperial soldier, dressed in full armor. Sword at her hip. She would just have to act tough and they would let her through without trouble. She came closer, keeping her steps sure, her head up, hood obscuring her features.

Shoulders back. She was an Imperial Legionnaire. She trained for an entire year for this situation. She was the superior fighter. Her sword, stronger. Her mind, sharper.

"Well what do we have here?" The man's voice was loud and raspy. "The toll is usually one hundred septims, but seeing as you're a soldier, it's five hundred." He held out a calloused hand.

Amarathine frowned at the man. Though he was shorter than her, he was much larger. He smelled like he hadn't bathed in weeks. "I don't have any money. Let me pass." Her voice came out firm, despite the nerves.

The bandit let out a laugh, Amarathine cringed at the smell of his breath. "You hear that boys, this woman has no money for us!" He yelled up to the men who now stood on the bridge overlooking the path where they stood. They began to hoot and laugh along with the man in front of her.

Before she could react, the large man reached out and pulled off her hood, pulling some of her hair with it.

She yelped in pain, but his smile only grew. "Well look at this, a High Elf! And a pretty one at that!"

"I know how she can pay us!" One of the men on the bridge hollered. The others howled and laughed like a pack of hungry wolves.

She had to get out of this. There were at least five men on the bridge.

Amarathine pulled out her sword from its sheath pointing it threateningly at the man before her. "Let me pass!" She yelled, hearing the desperateness in her own voice.

The man swung his hand out and knocked the sword from her shaking hands. The metal shuttered against the rocky path.

She froze. H—How could she call herself a soldier?

The bandit grabbed her wrist and twisted. She fell to her knees crying out in pain.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other men run off the bridge. The bandit that held her wrist began to drag her off the main road and towards a dirt path. She screamed now, kicking and punching at the man. But it was as if he were made of stone.

"No!" She cried. She reached into her boot and pulled out the dagger Ma'dran gave her. "Let me go!" She thrust the knife into his thigh as hard as she could.

The bandit yelled. He looked at her, seething, before slapping her across the face. Her vision went black for a moment. She barely felt her body hit the ground, still in a daze.

Suddenly she was surrounded by the men from the bridge, there were so many of them surrounding her. She felt hands grabbing her, prying off the armor. Screaming, she kept trying to get out of their hold to no avail.

Thud.

Everything went quiet, the men grew still. Amarathine followed their eyes to an arrow protruding from the chest of one of the men on her left. A moment later the man gargled blood and fell back. Dead.

What just happened? Did someone just shoot him? Was someone...saving her? The men around her got up in a flurry drawing their weapons and looking for the source of the arrow. The bandit with Amarathine's dagger jutting out of his leg pointed to the other side of the berm. "There!" He screamed, "Kill him!"

Another arrow hit a second bandit. The men burst into action, but they too were blinded by the sunlight the arrows came from.

Amarathine managed to sit up and look where the bandit was pointing. She had to put her arm up to shade her eyes from the sun. A silhouette of a man holding a bow stood over on the far berm. He was blotted out by the intense evening sunlight.

The bandits had forgotten about her, now obsessed with killing the archer on the far hill. They took off down the dirt road and across the main path, hollering.

Without another thought, she pushed herself up and ran past the wooden gate and into a camp. It was large and bordered by a fence with a few tents scattered about. Her vision spun. The bridge was around there somewhere, she just had to find it. The men's shouts came from the other side of the walls.

In front of her was the wooden building that overlooked the main path on the left. The bridge must have been near it!

Amarathine ran straight for the wooden steps that came into view, there was the bridge! She darted up the steps and made it to the base of the bridge, below, a bandit lay with an arrow in his neck.

A blur streaked past her face. Then a thudding sound as an arrow sunk into the post just beside her. She whipped her head in the direction it came from to see a bandit across the bridge notching another arrow in his bow.

Amarathine felt a hand grab her wrist and let out a piercing scream, trying to free herself as it pulled her away from the bridge.

"Come on!" said a deep voice.

It was then she noticed something strange about the hand, she took a breath and looked up at its owner. The man dragging her off the bridge was not a man at all, but an Argonian. She immediately stopped resisting, perhaps out of shock.

He guided her behind the building onto the rocks. Amarathine struggled to keep up with the nimble Argonian, tripping over the large boulders.

"Kill them!" One of the bandits hollered from behind them. She glanced back to see another man join the bandit who just about shoot her, he too held a bow pointed at them. Time seemed to slow down as her ears rang, both men released their arrows one after another.

Before she could move a pair of arms wrapped around her, spinning her out of the way. There was a weightless feeling in her stomach, as she felt herself falling off the edge of the rocks. The sky was the last thing she saw before being engulfed by cold water.

The Argonian released her with one hand and began to swim more strongly than she ever could. He resurfaced a moment later, giving her a chance to breathe. She coughed out the water in her lungs and looked around, trying to find out where they were. Even as she did, the current pushed them further out. Over on some rocks, she spotted the two men looking out to the water where they had jumped in.

"I've set up camp nearby, I will take you there," the deep voice beside her spoke.

Amarathine turned to him, a moss colored Argonian with curved horns and soft round eyes. "Alright."

In the growing darkness, they swam over to the far shore to find the Argonian's makeshift camp. There was an unlit fire pit, a half unrolled bed roll, and a backpack lying on the ground.

"Ah I forgot to introduce myself," the Argonian started, "My name's Derkeethus." He made a face she assumed was a smile by the brightness of his turquoise eyes.

Amarathine returned the gesture. "I am Amarathine," she bowed her head. "Thank you, for saving my life."

The Argonian called Derkeethus brought a hand up behind his head letting out a nervous laugh. "It was nothing, milady."

Amarathine looked over at the now distant rocks across the river. "But how did you know I was being attacked?"

He blinked. "I heard you scream."

So he was the kind to help strangers despite the possibility of being killed? She thought those people only existed in stories, and even the ones in stories were never Argonians.

She stood as she watched him walk over to his backpack and take out a bundle of white fabric. He handed it to her. "Here, put this on." She looked at the tunic in her hands, confused. "You're freezing," he stated.

Looking at her arms, she noticed they were covered in goosebumps. Her armor and hair were soaking, and the night was only getting colder. "Oh," she mumbled, "thank you."

She didn't want to know what would have happened if the Argonian –Derkeethus– hadn't saved her. The more she thought about it, the more grateful she became of him.

Amarathine changed behind a tree, peeling off her wet armor and cloak and replacing it with the soft dry tunic that reached down to the middle of her thighs. Then went to the edge of the river to properly wash off her face which felt like it was covered with mud. She then undid her hair, which somehow was still tied, to let it dry faster. She returned to the camp to see Derkeethus setting up a stand over the fire pit made of thick branches, a cooking pot in the center.

"Come, sit here." He gestured at the bed roll spread by the fire pit. Amarathine made a move to do as he said when she noticed he had paused, staring at her. She looked back at him questioningly before he spoke. "You're an Altmer."

Oh no. Here came the Thalmor accusation.

She gave him a sad grin. "Why, do you regret saving me now?"

He looked shocked that she would say that. "No, it's just.. milady looks nothing like most Altmer."

"What?" Now it was her turn to be surprised. "That's it?"

"Forgive me for staring." He shook his head grinning, "Now come sit."

She sat on the bed roll. He started the fire and took the wet armor from her. The Argonian took his time, neatly hanging the fabric parts on the stand over the fire and placing the leather bits on the surrounding rocks.

Amarathine observed him as he did. He was rather slim, wearing clothes typical of a miner. Did he even mind that they were wet? He must have read her mind, she watched as he removed his tunic and hung it beside her armor. Yes, he was very slim, a strange sight compared to the broad Nords she was used to seeing. He had such a nonthreatening look, and personality to match. It was hard to believe he was the man who stood at the top of the berm, bathed in the evening light.

Derkeethus sat down across from her. She suddenly felt bad, she was sitting on his bed roll. Her eyes widened in realization. "My backpack!"

She lost it back at the bandit camp. Now that she thought of it, her sword and dagger were still there too. Was it worth it? She really didn't want to go back there ever again. Sighing, she looked into the fire.

Derkeethus stood, breaking her chain of thought. "I will get it."

"No, don't! There are still bandits there!" What was he thinking? They were both almost killed. She didn't know what would have happened if they didn't jump into the water.

Derkeethus looked at her reassuringly. "I have to retrieve my arrows anyway." He took a dagger from his backpack and slug his bow over his back. He turned to leave and looked back at her. "Stay here, I'll return soon."

She nodded, though she was still worried. She watched the thin, shirtless Argonian walk back in the direction of the bridge. She brought her knees up and rested her chin on them.

This was not how her journey was supposed to go. It was supposed to be an uneventful walk across Skyrim like all the other travelers she'd passed.

How many more bandits would she come across? And how many more Argonians would come to her rescue? All her training counted for nothing in the real world. She wouldn't be able to kill a person even if she tried.

The image of the man with an arrow in his chest flashed through her mind. Derkeethus killed all but two of the bandits and was unfazed, so perhaps it wasn't as bad as she thought. Amarathine looked around, checking for bandits. She let out another sigh, looking off in the direction Derkeethus went.