12th of Second Seed, 4E 211

I hate snow.

Hunkered down in my saddle, I pulled my hood closer to my face. My black horse, which I had named Ebony, pawed the powdery ground nervously. It was like she understood what we were doing, and how dangerous it was.

I cast a glance at Bryn, watching as he patted the black neck of his nervous steed, Dagon. He held the reins to Etienne's horse, the leather gripped tight in his big hands.

With the sky clouded over, I had no way of telling how long we had been waiting for Etienne to return. I had long since nibbled my fingernails down to stubs. It was a habit I had not kicked, even though it would do me good to.

"Lass," whispered Bryn, bringing his horse closer to mine. "It's okay. He hasn't been gone that long. And the alarm hasn't been sounded yet. He should be back soon."

"I know. But I'm still worried."

"About him? Or about the girl?"

"Both."

He snorted. "Never took you for the type to care about anyone outside of the Guild."

"Being a mother changed that about me. This girl is a daughter. A wife. A mother, herself. How do you think you would feel if someone had taken Fai from us?"

He sighed. "I would tear the people who took her apart."

"Exactly. I've never been one to care about others. I'm always too caught up in my own business to care. But meeting with this woman's husband, seeing how distraught he was, how worried, it changed my mind." I shook my head. "Damn it. I'm going soft."

"No, you're not." His eyes sparkled. He gave me his signature grin, that charming and lopsided smile that made my heart stutter. "I have to admit, lass, your care is attractive."

I turned away then, hiding my blush. He still flirted like we were not married, though we had been married nearly nine years.

Then out from the cave burst Etienne; in his arms he carried our quarry. She was curled tightly, trying to stay warm in the rags that had once been clothing. Her face was gaunt, covered in blood, grime, and tears. Her hair was tangled and greasy. Though she wore a cloak that covered parts of her body, it did not hide the fact that the clothes she wore were ripped in many places; they barely covered her properly. Beneath these rips, we could see her protruding ribs, the horrid and ghastly wounds her tormentors had inflicted on her. How long has she been in there?

More amazing, how did she manage to stay alive this long?

"Give her to me, quickly!" said Bryn, motioning for Etienne to carry her closer. We had agreed that Bryn should take her, since his horse was the biggest and strongest. Etienne lifted her to Bryn, and my husband pulled her into a sitting position in front of him. He wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her steady, then slipped a fur cloak over her shoulders.

"Toss me her gear!" I said, taking the bag from Etienne's shoulders. I strapped it to my saddle, casting my eyes back to the cave. I expected the Thalmor to run out any moment, and I knew that time was of the essence.

Etienne mounted his horse, and the three of us slapped our reins as one. Our horses traveled single file, and ran through the snow to muffle their steps. We took off like bats out of Oblivion. We were not going to give the Thalmor the chance to know that we were gone, and we were taking their prize prisoner with us.

We galloped for what seemed like forever. We three thieves stayed silent, but Ylva let out an occasional moan or groan of pain. At one point, she began to sob like a newborn babe.

"Everything all right, little lass?" he asked when the sobbing started. I glanced back, past Etienne, in an attempt to get a better view of them. I could barely hear them over the sound of our horses clopping hooves.

"I'm free," said our quarry. "I'm actually free."

"Aye, you are. Do you need rest?"

"No. Get me as far away from that awful place as you can. Please."

"We will, don't worry."

Turning back, I stifled the growing swell of pity I felt in my heart. I tried not to let myself get attached to the poor woman. I was supposed to be an insensitive thief, after all. I was not supposed to care.

She's the Dragonborn. She's tougher than this.

When we made it out of the snowy lands of the mountains and into the more temperate regions of Haafingar, we slowed our horses to a canter. We reached a wide river, and the only way forward was to cross it. The river would throw the Thalmor off our scent if they came looking for us, too. So, with some trepidation, we went in. Ylva whimpered as soon as the water touched her feet.

"Oh, gods, please don't let me fall," she begged Bryn. "I can't swim. Don't let me fall."

"I won't, lass," said Bryn over the sound of the whitewater.

"Please."

"I won't, I swear."

After we made it to the opposite shore, we decided to give our horses a rest by a stream that split off from the river. We tied them to a tree, giving the enough of a lead so they could drink, then we began to set up our own camp.

Bryn slid off Dagon before reaching up and helping the woman off his saddle. She moaned as soon as he moved her. Her face had gotten even paler, and her eyes were rolling back in her head. He set her down, letting her lean back against the tree, but that seemed to offer her little relief.

I lowered my hood and moved closer to Ylva. She needed help, and she needed it soon. "You boys take care of camp."

Brynjolf and Etienne nodded and began to rifle through the saddle bags and bedrolls and whatever other equipment we had packed, soon heading to a clearing near the worn dirt path to set up camp.

As they left, I rummaged through my own bags in order to find some supplies to help Ylva get clean. After everything she had been through, I figured she deserved a bath. First, I grabbed a strong potion that would ease both her pain and help her wounds heal. Then, I grabbed a bar of mountain flower soap and a plush towel.

Once I had the items I needed, I threw the towel over my shoulder and knelt next to Ylva. I took the cork out of the potion bottle and held it to her lips. "This will heal the worst of your injuries," I said as I helped her drink, "and take away your pain. I'm going to carry you over to the river and help you get cleaned up, all right? If you want, I can just wash your hair. You can leave these clothes on until the boys get done setting up camp. There will be a tent, and you'll have some more privacy there. Sound good?"

She only nodded.

"Okay, here we go." I brought her arm over my shoulders and raised her off the ground. She limped along next to me as I took her to the stream. I threw the towel down on the shore, then I helped her into the gently babbling water. It wasn't too deep, so the sun warmed it to the perfect temperature. A blessing, to be honest, after the harsh cold we had been riding through.

"Here's good," I said as I lowered her into the water. It reached her chest, but no higher, so I knew she wouldn't be too afraid of drowning here. As she sat down on the stream bed, I nudged her shoulder and said, "Lean back, so I can get your hair wet."

She didn't hesitate, and as soon as her scalp dipped into the water, I began scrubbing. The amount of filth that came off her head, in just that initial scrub, shocked me. Her hair was a completely different color underneath all the grime. As I scrubbed the grime from her hair, I noticed something I hadn't before. She had a streak of alabaster hair, shining bright against the rest of her ebony locks. Had this been a natural thing, or had the torment unleashed by her captors done this to her? By the gods, I hoped not the latter.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked as I finished running my hands through her hair, switching to using soap to aid in cleaning out even more gunk.

"What, you want to go back to your husband all stinky and dirty?"

"No, why did you agree to rescue me? You're part of the Thieves Guild."

I ignored the venom that she placed around the words "Thieves Guild" and snorted at her. "What gave that away?"

"Did he offer to pay you?"

"Well, of course. We wouldn't have shown up otherwise."

"How much?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that right now. You're in bad shape, and you don't need to be thinking about that. Let me take care of you, okay?"

She stayed quiet. I finished cleaning her up, then helped her limp to the shore. I wrapped the towel around her hair, then escorted her to our camp. "I'll help you get changed in the tent." Etienne spotted us as we walked, them came forward to help me lead Ylva into the tent that he and Bryn had assembled. Once inside, we eased her down on one of the bedrolls.

"Need anything else, Femke?" asked Etienne as be backed up towards the tent flap.

I shook my head. "Go help Brynjolf outside."

With Etienne gone, I started to dig around the rest of the supplies in the tent for the items I needed. I found an extra set of clothes, bandages, some salve for her unhealed wounds, and a hairbrush to work the tangles out. Once I had found all of that, I went back to Ylva, kneeling behind her and putting the stuff aside for now. Then, after a moment of decision-making, I grabbed the nasty rags that covered her torso and shredded them off her body.

When she gasped, I eased her by saying, "Easy, don't worry. I won't look if you don't want me to."

"What about the men?"

I scoffed as I rubbed the cold salve onto her back. "Because Etienne isn't about to do that to you, and if Bryn tried, he would be in serious trouble."

"Why?"

"Because his wife is right behind you."

She looked over her shoulder. "You're his...?"

I nodded, unable to fight the grin on my face. "Sure am. Happily married for many years now."

"I didn't thieves got married."

"We're just like you, you know. Other people, I mean. We love, we laugh, we make babies—"

"You have children?"

"Three. A girl and twin boys." I laughed as I put the jar of salve away. "They're a handful-and-a-half. You have kids, too, right?"

She nodded in turn. "Twins. Boy and a girl. I miss them so much."

"Yeah, I bet. But don't you worry. You'll be home with them in no time." After aiding her in slipping a soft blue tunic over her head, I eased the old, ragged trousers off her and helped her into a pair of woolen leggings.

"Feeling better already, huh?" I asked as I handed her a brush so she could get the knots out of her hair.

"Yes. But..." She glanced down and ran her left thumb against her ring finger, "my wedding ring. Do you have that?"

"Probably. Here, I'll look." I stood up, moved to Etienne's satchel across the tent, and began to rummage through it. "Why just your wedding band?"

"Because it's special to me. I don't care about my armor or swords. I value that ring more than anything else I own."

With a triumphant smile, I pulled out her silver wedding ring. It was a simple band, with a deep blue sapphire set in the center. I couldn't imagine how much this must have cost her husband. "It's beautiful. No wonder you care about it so much."

"That's not why. My husband went all the way to Riften to get that ring."

I came back to her side, knelt down, and handed her the ring. "How sweet. I lost my wedding band. It was just a plain silver ring we got in Solitude, but don't tell Bryn that. He doesn't know." I tweaked the singular lock of white hair out of her face. "You should sleep. We'll get moving again in a few hours, but you need your rest. Thalmor shouldn't find us out here. We're well off the beaten path, and they're not going to ride out this far just to look for you."

"You don't think so?"

"Even if they did, we could fight them off. Bryn and me, we're really good in a fight. Lucky charms, we are."

She scowled in disapproval. "You are the most overconfident woman I have ever met."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well, comes with the territory." I then stood. "Sleep, Ylva. It'll do you good."

I didn't leave the tent until she was settled into the bedroll beneath her, unsure if she would listen to me or not. I was just some dirty thief, after all.

"Femke?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

I nodded, a small grin pulling the corner of my lips. "You're welcome, Ylva."

Once I knew she was all right, I left the tent. Bryn and Etienne sat around the fire nearby, the former stoking it with a stick. He looked up to me as I approached.

"How's the lass?" he asked.

"Asleep. She's in bad shape." As I spoke, I began to work my heavy leather armor off, since I hadn't been smart enough to shed it before helping Ylva bathe. I was wearing clothes underneath, so I just needed to take off the outer layer so it could dry by the fire. "I'm surprised she didn't die in there."

Etienne's face paled. "I am, too. She was in there weeks longer than I was all those years ago. I was squealing like a pig before the end."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, man." Bryn gently punched Etienne's shoulder.

"Bryn's right; don't be so hard on yourself."

After a moment of silence passed, Bryn turned to me. "Lass, in her hair, I thought I saw—"

"A white streak? You did. I think I know what caused it, and it's not good."

"You think... the streak came from her torture?"

I nodded. "It makes me angry, seeing a young woman be subjugated to such pain. She has a husband and two children. If it weren't for this war, would the Thalmor have done that to her?"

"Probably," said Etienne, color coming back to his face. "She's the Dragonborn. From what I know, she was supposed to have been killed by Thalmor agents fifteen years ago." He shrugged. "And she infiltrated their embassy and rescued me. That in itself is a crime punishable by death."

"No one deserves what the Thalmor have done to them. Not Ylva, not you, Etienne, not every single half-breed like me." I snorted, a mirthless smile on my face, then got up and fetched three bottles of mead we had lying nearby. I passed them out to the men before sitting down again. "How do you think those bastards would feel if they knew that a Nord, a former prisoner, and a halfling had broken their number-one captive out of prison and set her free? Think they'd be pissed?"

"Oh, royally pissed," said Bryn with a smug expression. "But they deserve it. They bring their war here and scare away all the caravaners. Bad for business, that is. They hit us where it hurts, so I think we should return the favor, just a bit."

"Besides, the pay for this job will set us up for awhile. That makes this worth it, too."

"Well, aren't we just a pack of unlikely heroes?" said Etienne, a wry grin creeping on his face. "I think we make a pretty good team."

Brynjolf nodded. "Aye, that we do." He raises his bottle, and we clinked them together. "Here's to unlikely heroes."

"I'll drink to that," I said, and tossed my head back, letting the mead spill down my gullet and soothe the aches from riding long and hard. Its warmth banished the chill creeping closer as night set upon us, and it made me smile in triumph, though what I was triumphing in, I didn't know.

Maybe I do have a bit of hero in me.