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The dragon' s landing was so sudden the impact threw me to the ground. I slid through the snow, cursing it as it somehow found its way beneath my armor. My armor was slick against the snow and ice and I slid down the short decline right beneath the dragon. I heard Mjoll call my name but then I could hear nothing over the roar of the dragon.

The dragon was on top of me, it's scaled stomach pinning me on my side. I tried to reach for my swords, but they were trapped beneath me. All I could see were green scales. So it wasn't a particularly strong dragon. Thank the gods for that much. The stench this close to the beast was overwhelming and I resisted the urge to gag as I tried to roll out of the way. The chest of the dragon drove me into the snow and my left shoulder began to throb in protest. I cried out as I struggled to adjust but couldn't. My breath was coming in short, sharp pants as it's weight prevented me from filling my lungs.

"I'll paint the snow with your blood!" Mjoll's battlecry reached my ears even over the roar of the dragon.

I could hear Mjoll shouting. She must have landed a blow because the beast staggered back just enough for me to roll completely on my back. I gasped as I was finally able to draw in a full breath. For a moment I could think of nothing else than filling my screaming lungs with air. After a few seconds I was able to think and I dropped my hands back to my swords.

If I hadn't already had the shout drawn to the forefront of my mind I don't know that I could have done it. It's difficult to find enough focus to draw a shout in combat let alone with a thrashing dragon nearly stepping on you.

"FUS RO DAH!"

My shout threw the dragon back and it took off, screaming it's anger to the sky. The backdraft from it's leathery wings pushed me back into the snow for only a moment. I slipped the straps from my knapsack and threw myself to my feet. I staggered as my foot slid on some ice and I cursed aloud as I jogged towards Mjoll.

Mjoll already had her bow out and was firing arrows as quickly as she could notch them. The trees were making it difficult and I could hear as many striking wood as were finding their target. The dragon swooped back low, breathing fire as it went. Mjoll and I both dove away from each other out of the way. I was not quite fast enough and I could feel the oppressive heat like a weight. I instantly started sweating. My armor was hot against my skin. That had been a close one.

I managed to right myself just in time for the dragon to land between myself and Mjoll. I immediately started a power attack as I realized the teeth were facing my direction. I wanted to shout again, but it was still too soon.

This close I could feel the dragon's life force, feel it's heart as though it had a place in my chest next to my own. She was so angry.

I struck another solid blow with my swords to the creatures neck and its lifeblood sprayed my armor. It slammed it's head towards Mjoll and she flew back. Even from this distance I heard the crunch of Mjoll's armor against an outcropping of rock. I flinched as the dragon shouted once more, billowing flames directly at Mjoll's crumpled form. She yelled, but I couldn't see her and I couldn't get to her.

With no other option I charged the dying dragon.

It's panic was a blossom opening in my chest. She knew she was dying. She beat her wings, trying to fly away but she couldn't anymore, her strength was gone, staining the snow at her feet.

At the very last minute I dropped to the ground and slid through the snow so I was once more beneath the dragon. Only this time I drug one of my swords across the base of it's neck, nearly beheading the cursed thing. My momentum carried me through the snow to the other side and I rolled to my feet between it and Mjoll just in time to see the body crumble.

I whirled to Mjoll, dropping my swords carelessly in the snow as I reached for her. For not the first time, I wished I knew magic. Even the most basic Restoration spell would help my friend.

Mjoll opened her eyes when I touched her arm. I breathed a sigh of relief. There was blood everywhere, and I couldn't tell what was hers and what belonged to the dragon.

"I'm alright," she said, her voice hoarse. The edges of her normally blond hair that peaked out from beneath her helmet were singed black and I had to stomp on a corner of her cloak that was still on fire. When it didn't go out I ripped the thing off her and tossed it away. I heard a sizzle as the flames hit the snow.

Behind me the beast's internal fire crackled and popped as the dragon was consumed by its own flames. I was forced to stop. I paused and straightened, waiting for the soul, knowing I will be momentarily frozen as my body absorbed it.

It hit with the force of a charging mammoth and yet as the soul settled within, next to my own, I felt a strange sense of peace, of rightness in the world. That was quickly swallowed up in surge of heat and light. Pure power roiled through me, twisting and turning as it fought it's way into my much smaller form. It felt as though I had the strength to defeat an entire army of dragons myself. I wanted to hunt and fight them all. After, I would take to the sky, beating the winds with my wings and shouting my domination over all of Tamriel.

What felt like hours, but I knew to be only seconds later, the heat passed. I stood swaying slightly on my feet over the bones of the ancient beast. And it took me a moment to remember I was not a dragon. I did not have wings. I was only a woman. I was only Freyja once more.

And this was why I would fight and kill every last dragon. It wasn't to save Skyrim or protect innocent lives. Though that's what I liked to tell myself and was certainly why Mjoll fought. It was because absorbing a dragon soul was more potent than any wine, mead or Skooma. It was my addiction and I would never give it up.

When the last tremors cease and I could once more feel the winter's chill I returned to Mjoll, crouching beside her. She had managed to push herself up into a sitting position so she was leaning against the rocks. My hands flew to her helm and I gingerly removed it, trying not to jostle her too much. I sucked in a breath as I saw the bruises already beginning to blossom on her pale skin. Several small blood vessels had burst in her left eye. There was blood on her lips too and I knew it was bad when she coughed and more came, dribbling down her chin. I gently cradled the side of her head in my small hand and used the end of my cloak to wipe the blood from her face. My hand in her hair was soon warm and wet and I gently turned her face to see there was a small amount of blood coming from her ear.

"I'm alright," she assured me once more but I could see the pain in her eyes and I knew enough about healing to know my friend was in serious trouble. I reached into the satchel attached to my belt and came out with a handful of crushed blue blooms.

"I don't have any way of making a potion but these will help." I also handed her my canteen knowing from experience the bitter blooms would be difficult to choke down. She stayed leaning against the rocks as she slowly chewed the blossoms. They wouldn't do much by themselves, but it was the best I could do. I cursed myself for letting my supply of potions run out.

"Thank you," she said after eating the first. "I will just need a moment."

I nodded and left her alone. I turned back to the massive remains. I pulled out my dagger and began harvesting as much bone and scales as I could. Guilt assailed me as I worked.

When I had first met Mjoll two years ago in Riften she had already given up the life of an adventurer. After nearly dying in a dwymer ruin she was found and nursed back to health by Aerin who brought her to his home in Riften. Mjoll had regained her strength and fallen in love with the warm, yellow forests of the south and the two of them lived happily together in Riften. Mjoll had seen it as her duty to help restore the city and fight corruption and injustice where she found it. It still amazed me that we had ever become friends. The noble protector of Riften and me, the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild. But I hadn't been Guildmaster when I found her lost sword in the very dwymer ruin that had nearly claimed her life.

I held onto the sword until I was in Riften again and returned it. At the time, I thought nothing of it. She had always been kind to me and it cost me little to return a beloved artifact. Mjoll however, saw it differently. She believed the gods had brought me to her and it was now her honor-bound fate to aid the dragonborn in her quest to rid Skyrim of the beasts. As with most things, it was more complicated than it first appeared, but Mjoll had become my most trusted friend. Now she was bleeding out in the snow, far from the forests she loved. And it was my fault.

I tucked the bone and scales away in my knapsack, immediately resenting the extra weight. I dug around to see if I had a forgotten potion but found nothing. I returned to Mjoll. She looked even more pale than before and had not finished the small amount of blooms I gave her.

"Alright," I said in a tone that brooked no argument. "You need to finish those and we need to get you to a healer."

Mjoll coughed as I struggled to help her stand. She swayed on her feet and leaned so much of her weight into me I staggered sideways. She was even weaker than I thought. This was well beyond anything I could do. At most I might be able to patch her up and stop the bleeding to buy us the time it would take to get to the nearest healer. I looked around.

"We are only a few hours outside of Windhelm," I assured her, praying to Talos I was right. We didn't spend much time in The Pale and I was going off of a hazy memory. My map was tucked away in my knapsack and I didn't want to take the time to get it out. I was fairly certain we weren't  far from Agnes Mill and I was confident I could hire one of workers to help me get Mjoll into the city.

"You can't go to Windhelm," she rasped, coughing blood once more. "Ulfric will kill you himself. Nightgate is only a little ways back-" She broke off into a more aggressive coughing fit and hung weakly in my arms.

"No," I said firmly, my mouth setting in a thin, grim line. "they have no healer there and no way of fetching one aside from going to Windhelm themselves." I didn't have the courage to say that it would take too long for them to do that, but the words hung in the air nonetheless.

Resolutely, I pulled her arm across my shoulders and started walking us in the direction of Windhelm; the home of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak and the very heart of his rebellion.

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