She stared up at the sky with a sick feeling in her stomach. It wasn't from being hit on the head, she knew that, it was the same feeling she'd had after she even spared a thought to smiling when she climbed up that rope in Windhelm at the cost of some nameless woman. These weren't faceless Kamal or a duel in the circle, these were mer like Keegan or Sadri. She remembered taking the pleading man's life and feeling the same way she had when the crowd cheered her name while she stood over Olvir Tanglehair. A sick kind of pride, a red joy in an opponent crushed to the dirt under her heel. She wondered if this was how heroes felt after their great and bloody deeds. When Sagax came to stand over her and offered his hand, she frowned and looked away from his kind face. Finally, she took his hand and muttered her thanks.

Just then, some form leapt into the air over her with blinding speed and a very short scuffle was all she heard before Sadri lay beside her. Do'Karth went over to him and offered him food, but she noticed the way he looked at her. It was a gaze she'd only seen in her mentor's eyes when they were together after her lessons. She felt she didn't deserve a gaze like that knowing what she'd done. But would she call her mother a fool for looking at her father the same way knowing the line of work he was in? She sighed, a sad half-smile was all she could muster as she helped the old mer up. She left her hand on his shoulder and found herself at a loss for words. What was there to say after the fight was done? “My thanks.” She said lamely, but that was all the sincerity she could spare at the time.

When they holed themselves up in the cave, she sat mostly alone, huddled against a rock, fingering the chitin spear's head and admiring its sharpness. She hadn't encountered a weapon like this at all, and she wondered how the Dunmer could fashion whole suits of armor and sets of weapons out of whatever material it was. Sleep did not come easily to her that night, but it had always been something just out of reach until the last moment these last few days. It was nothing a bottle of whiskey couldn't coax to her.

* * *

Her face was stinging to the touch and she could barely keep her eyes open against the winds and snow. She cursed whatever Daedra would summon up a blizzard like this, but her complaints and anguish were kept mostly to herself. She stayed close to Sadri and Do'Karth as they waded through the snow with as much grace as a newborn horse. Every step closer to the cave they'd found felt like a step closer to heavenly salvation. There was only so much her bear fur cloak could do against Northern Skyrim's hateful winds and she uttered a silent thanks to any God listening when they set foot in the cave. Do'Karth elected to go further, for whatever reason. She'd never been one for ruins or caves. Most of her adventuring she liked to keep in places where she could see the sky above her. Musty and cramped dungeons filled with Shor knows what wouldn't find her gracing their halls.

When Do'Karth's screams and the sound of his struggling, as well as the blood-chilling sound of many things moving in the darkness seized her heart, she knew exactly why she never wanted to be in these places at all. She swung her shield over her shoulder from its strap on her back and unsheathed her longseax, waiting for whatever monstrosities would come creeping from the dark.

And they came.

Pale forms, gnarled and twisted came out of the shadows like spirits in the fog. Gibbering in their harsh tongue, their eyeless forms almost froze Solveig where she stood. She swallowed, tried to muster up any courage she could. She had never come against any creatures like these, and she knew the falmer of legend were all too real. They'd clawed their way out of the old wives tales. One reared back with a cruel looking club and all she could do was watch. It screeched in its horrifyingly shrill voice and she cowered behind her shield, eyes screwed shut, as if that would prove to her this was all her imagination.

The club skidded off her shield and she yelped, retreating backwards, ready to trade this pants-soiling fear for the misery of the snow outside but she tripped over her own feet. Her breath caught in her throat as the club came down on her shield again, the falmer screaming for her blood. Fear made her lash out with the rim of her shield and she caught the gangly thing in its shoulder, sending it stumbling and screeching. She swung wide with her seax and caught it right in the mouth, the blade sheering through its cheek and knocking some teeth away plinking against the moist ground of the cave. It lay on the ground, squirming before she snapped its neck with another blow from her shield's rim. She stood there, breathing heavy and still very much scared. But she knew whatever happened, she had a good blade and a sturdy shield. She swallowed, what more could a shieldmaiden ask for in a scrape?

Besides to come out the other side.