Tzirret stoop up with the sack of seeds to face Ma'tanza with a bit of surprise. "Dangerous? No! No, there is no danger. The apprentices ensured Tzirret. He got to try it a few times to make sure...but anyway..."

With the sack in both hands, Tzirret approached Ma'tanza again. His smile faded into nervousness as he looked away. "This one..." He stumbled over his speech, wringing the opening of the sack between his hands in a tight ball. "Damn it, this one knew the words...he..." Tzirret gathered the courage to look Ma'tanza in the eye and his knees began to quiver beyond his control, ever so slightly. He took a breath to ground himself, nodded his head back and forward, and then began properly.

"Where to start?" Tzirret curled his lips. He had trouble keeping eye contact and his words were not much more steady than his knees. "Well, Tzirret is...not looking forward to leaving. Being with Ma'tanza has been the best thing he has ever done. And, even though he was clumsy, and nervous, and inexperienced, and sad sometimes and...and sometimes simply a fool, Ma'tanza has helped him to realise more about himself. More about what he is good at. She is always so nice, but at the same time she is not afraid to stand up for herself." Tzirret nodded to Ma'tanza. "And, as for herself, Ma'tanza has heard this one's compliments over and again. She is everything that Tzirret wishes he could be. And he means that."

Tzirret's hands parted, opening the sack he held. His candlelight revealed that it was full of glossy black seeds that Ma'tanza could recognise as watermelon seeds. Tzirret was staring into the seeds. He did not sound as nervous, but instead he was mournful. "This one does not know if we will ever see each other again after he leaves. He hopes we do. He will not forget Ma'tanza in any case. Before he goes, though, he wants to say something properly."

With closed eyes, Tzirret slowly brought his chin level again while taking a long in breath through his nose. He then opened his eyes to Ma'tanza's, showing an intense look. He held the sack open and forward. "Please, take a big handful of seeds," he instructed. "This one will dismiss his light. Then, please toss the seeds up into the cups and bowls."

Tzirret gave Ma'tanza a moment to get her bearings and to convey that this was not a joke. The light then went out and plunged them both into darkness. They could still see the outlines of things, thanks to their Khajiit eyes, but the only light coming in was the smallest amount possible slivering in from under the door. It flickered with the torches in the hallway.

[hr]
Meanwhile, the sun had not yet set outside of the clanhome. Fendros lead Ahnasha between the hills, carrying his bow, quiver, and a bag along with him. They didn't travel further than a few hundred metres before Fendros stopped and looked up at the top of the hill on their left. He put his hands on his hips. "Ah, good," he remarked. "The wind didn't pick up too much and blow the targets over."

Evidently, Fendros had been up the hill earlier that day setting up what they could see. A short distance from the top of the hill were two strange-looking miniature horizontal windmills. The thin planks that functioned as sails were picking up the soft wind and turned at variable speeds. At the end of the arms of the windmills were cords of thin rope that held up odd little wooden cylinders.

Fendros raised a hand to shade his eyes from the sun when he turned to explain to Ahnasha. "I, uh, asked the local marksmen how they challenge themselves here in this clan. They said they use these little windmills to practice against unpredictable targets. The aim is to shoot the cord so the little weights come rolling down the hill to use as a score." Fendros looked at the targets again, opening his mouth slightly as he squinted his eyes. "They said that when they're on the top of a taller hill, like this one..." Fendros pointed his bow to the targets. "...that the wind's too strong to hit anything." Fendros grinned. "I thought we might prove them wrong."

Fendros place his bag on the ground and drew an arrow, gesturing sideways to the hill with it. Strangely, there was the sound of rubbing beads in the bag as it rolled flat onto the ground. "I was thinking we'll take turns, and by the time I've run out of arrows or until we shoot all off of the targets from one, we'll count up who shot down the most. You take the left one, I'll go for the right one." Fendros hummed and japed, "It may seem difficult, but I'm sure that you'll get it with a bit of practice, Ahna."