[b]Dawn[/b] The smell of wet dew filled the dreaming huntress's nose as she slowly awoke to the chill of the morning air, her blanket draped across her shoulders. Opening her eyes, Sevine Varg-t'uk took in her surroundings as she recalled where she was. Still alive, and with the mercenary company under the command of the Dragonborn. She had reached the encampment just days before, and had reacted in surprise upon seeing her old childhood friend amongst the other soldiers, Edith Bright-Wings. The blonde maiden, just a smidge taller than herself, and Sevine had grown up together in Falkreath. She hadn't seen Edith since the war, and couldn't be happier to see her again. However, they hardly had time to exchange a few hellos, before Sevine had gone off on patrol. The dawn patrol left as soon as the east horizon had begun to turn red, with the sun beginning to slowly rise. Their party consisted of 4 soldiers, Sevine serving as an archer for the group, two men who wielded iron shorts words, and one other man with a bow and war hammer. The early trek down to the main road, then across to an old hunting path had filled her with vigor at the idea of encountering enemies this early on. The morning sun rose ever higher, shinning precious rays of light upon the world, dispelling the darkness that once belonged to the night. The huntress' blood-colored hair glistened like a dancing fire in the light of the sun as she moved through a field, her bow ready with an arrow notched. Her evergreen eyes scanned their surroundings continuously for any signs of warning or danger. She let her mouth hang open, silent breaths of ghostly vapor escaped from betwixt her lips. The patrol ended with no reports of seeing their enemies about three hours later, as they returned to the camp. Sevine departed from the group and went to where she had stashed her gear by her bedroll. She knelt in the dirt and rummaged through her leather rucksack, looking for her book, [i]The Black Arrow[/i], Volume 2. She had read the book countless times, as the book bore the signs of wear and tear from being read over, and over again; the pages were thin at the corners, and somewhat smooth, the occasional stain of tea appeared on a page or two, even a note written in charcoal could be found within. Sitting upon her bedroll, Sevine cracked open her favorite book and began to read it from the beginning. There was never a better time to brush up on her archery skills, or even to read an entertaining tale on such tedious days. "Sevine Varg-t'uk! I knew I had seen your head of hair about the camp. It's been a while since I have laid mine own eyes upon you. How do you fare? And of your sister too?" Edith asked, she had a whole hearted smile upon her face. Sevine lept to her feet and happily embraced her old friend. "Aye! I could say the same about you, Edith! Ah, I am well, my sister Liliana, is just married to that boy from town, Lodjolf Thorn-Raker." Sevine released her friend as she took a step back from her. "You are truly a sight for sore eyes, Sevine. Your father would be proud of what you have become." Edith knew that Agnar had passed away, just years ago. "Aye, that is true." Her voice faltered, as she went again, for another embrace, hugs were not common-place for Sevine, but in times like these, Sevine would not deny the opportunity for one. "Let me be on my way, I have some work to finish up, and I'll let you get back to your book." Edith stepped back and patted Sevine emphatically on the shoulder. "Of course, I'm certain I will see you around camp more, blessings of Mara upon you." Sevine smiled once more as Edith embrace her again, this time departing shortly after. The hours passed before she spotted a familiar looking man pass by, Jorwen Red-Bear, she wondered where he was going, but continued to read her book. In the back of her mind, Sevine recalled a time during the Civil War, just a few years back, when Jorwen had graciously mended the hem of her dress sleeve. She thanked him repeatedly, but had felt as if she hadn't repaid the generous deed in full. [b]Nightfall[/b] Jerking awake, the huntress pulled the book she had been reading off her face. She had fallen asleep, and placed the book over her face to block out the light of day. Due to that, Sevine had slept through the rest of the day, and well past the evening, she imagined it to be around midnight, by the blackness of the night sky that hung above her like a velvet curtain sparkling with diamonds that were the stars themselves. "[i]Listen up, you pitiful bunch of skeever shits![/i]" Thundered Dumhuvud Cat-Kicker, a Nordic man dressed head-to-toe in steel armor, as he stood upon some crates. Sevine rose from her bedroll and moved closer to where the other mercenaries had gathered. As Dumhuvud called for everyone to pay attention, and hear to Ashav out, Sevine couldn't help but to think back to the Civil War, where she had first lain eyes upon Cat-Kicker, on the battlefields on a few occasions. She still remembered as a fellow comrade explained how he earned his surname, literally kicking a Khajiit to death. Listening on, Sevine discovered that they would soon be leaving to spring an attack on the redoubt they were watching over the past few days. Instantaneously, her heart beat quickened at the mere thought of an encounter during the night, if they pulled this off right, they would have the element of surprise. Three people volunteered to be scouts, an Altmer, an Argonian, and Jorwen himself. Grasping at her amulet of Mara, tucked inside her armor, Sevine closed her eyes and offered up a prayer for her fellow comrade, hoping for a safe return, for all of them. She knew that being a scout, they ran the risk of being taken down first by the Forsworn. The rest of them would be heading out in 4 hours to bring on the main attack. Once Ashav finished speaking, Sevine departed to get ready. She checked every strap on her leather armor, loosened up all of her muscles thru quick exercises, and counted all of her arrows before slinging her quiver across her shoulder, where it lay draped across her back. Checking her bowstring, with a twang of her fingers, Sevine determined it to be satisfactory. Sheathing her war axe at her hip, Sevine stared questionably down at her wooden shield. She had left it behind countless times, and had done just well with her axe and bow, yet Sevine recalled the times where her shield had saved her life from many a sword swing, or arrow shot. Reluctantly, the huntress decided it would be best to bring it with her, just in case she wasn't going to use her bow as much.