Chapter One

Gaeolin eyed the carcass, looking over his shoulder to his friend. “There is no way we’re going to clean this whole thing before Delphine rents out the rooms…”

Inigo twiddled a whisker, grinning to himself. “Well, I did try to say we should bag something a bit less… cumbersome.” He absently itched at the fleas on his neck. “Do you think Alvor would let you hang it behind his house while we turn in?”

“Nah, let’s not bother him this early. Help me move it to that tree.” The pair huffed as their kill, ironically, continued to fight them beyond death. After much toil, the elk swayed from the branches of the pine, the blood dripping to stain the grass. “Okay… A drink? Maybe a snack before we call it good for tonight?”

“I think I’ll just grab a sweetroll and milk.” Inigo yawned.

The elf laughed. “You know what Orgnar will say…”

“Milk-Drinker… Whatever, he’ll keep his mouth shut if he wants the venison.” They waded across the river, shivering slightly in the frigged water. “I just hope they kept a decent fire.”

They trudged down the road, the blazing embers of the Blacksmith’s forge greeting them. A guardsman nodded curtly to the hunters. Gaeolin returned the gesture, wishing that their third week of being here would inspire a bit more trust. “You’d think we murdered a child…”

Inigo shrugged. “I’m still not sorry. That chicken saw too much… If I hadn’t killed it, they’d all be necromancer toys.”

“It was Faendal’s best hen…”

“I’m not apologizing for saving the town…” Not for the first time, Gaeolin rolled his eyes at the paranoid Khajiit.

The sign of the Sleeping Giant hung like a banner of comfort, beckoning them into the main room eagerly. The wood elf stretched his hands toward the flames, sighing in audible relief. “Well, eat your cake, then go get some sleep. I want to head out as early as…” But he stopped, smirking at the cat who had fallen asleep at the table. He let him rest, knowing that their days of leisure would end as soon as they left for Whiterun.