Frostbite - a TES:V Skyrim Fanfiction Series

2 - Skyrim

She woke, again, with a face-full of snow.

"Wake up," someone said, and she did. Coughing, and blinking through the cold, she saw that cloud blue again.

Not dead, then.

Ralof's concerned face stared down at her. He waved a hand across her vision, and she pushed him away with a weak arm.

"Stop. Stop, I'm awake."

"Thank Talos, girl. You gave me quite a- wait." His head shot up, his finger on his lips. She heard nothing above the ringing in her ears. Her head felt as though it had picked a fight with a hammer. She lay on the ground and moaned. Everything ached.

But her thoughts were quiet. Too quiet. Suspiciously quiet. This was not normal.

And when that black shadow fell over them once more, she wanted to curl into a ball and await screaming death like a mouse before an eagle. She closed her eyes and saw those laser-red eyes. That consciousness that transcended animal and leapt claw-first into evil.

But the flames never came.

As the dragon roared, it echoed from the landscape beyond, growing quieter. She opened a single eye and saw it. Scaled wings like knives, cutting through the sky. It should have been an impossible feat, for something so massive to move so gracefully, and yet it did.

The pair watched, Ralof hunched behind a rock and her from her prone position in the dirt and snow. As the dragon flew away and disappeared into the mist over a distant mountain peak, quiet fell upon them. Seconds passed and a bird called out. Another responded, and she realised there was a breeze. She could hear her own breathing. The ringing in her ears subsided.

Safe, for now, whatever that meant.

"Looks like he's gone for good, this time." Ralof said.

"Ralof," she said, and he scuffled over to her.

"How do you know my name?"

"I'm not sure I can stand up, can you help?" She raised an arm, and the confused looking hulk of fabric and chainmail blinked twice before lifting her to her feet.

And then she looked around, and almost fell over again.

The cave had spat them out on the side of a hill. A trail ran away from the opening, lightly trodden by people or bears, or both. It ran away and disappeared into a copse of evergreens, flanked either side by boulders and jutting rock formations, berry bushes and other lush flora. Beyond the trees immediately ahead of them, rows of snowy mountain peaks like teeth ringed and writhed across the landscape. The gentle blue shimmering of a lake peeked out from between the treetops.

"Wow..." she said. It was beautiful.

She'd expected to emerge into a frozen hellscape, scattered with hungry animals and murderous soldiers. And dragons. But this – this was like a fantasy. A Nordic heaven. A tundra paradise.

Ralof had already started down the trail, trotting and trailing a tiny landslide of pebbles as he went. He was saying something about Imperials and a sister.

Looking down, she realised she was clutching a small bottle in one hand. It glinted a vibrant red in the cold sunlight, which revealed a gentle bubbling, watery liquid within. "Weird."

She took a single step, and something clanked at her hip. She looked down again to see an axe, looped through a rope belt that tied her rough canvas tunic round her slight hips. The thing was heavy, its leather handle wrap rough against her tracing fingers. A disjointed memory flashed across her unconscious - yanking it from the loop on the dead rebel's belt. She looked over the blade. It was a simple thing, as far as she could tell. She could see the many dents that a hammer had made during its creation, and it looked sharp enough to cut ... well, whatever she needed it to. With a tentative finger, she prodded the blade's edge.