What happened next was kind of my fault, because I could have avoided the fight had I thought ahead.

 

See, the last time I had been in the area we were traversing, I had come from a different direction - a near-vertical drop from the mountain that towered over us on the right. So, coming as we did from the road, I didn’t recognize the Stormcloak camp until they ambushed us from it.

 

I’m not sure if they attacked because of Lazhah’s Imperial uniform (they certainly had no reason to recognize my outfit as such) or because they were horny and thought Lane and I looked like easy pickings once they took care of our three-male escort. My bet is on the latter, which brings with it a slice of irony; I had been perfectly safe in the camp last time because they had fuck slaves to deal with their lust. Now, in a land where slavery was illegal, I was not safe around them. 

 

Men are sick creatures, as a general rule.

 

Fortunately, there weren’t many, presumably because some were out on patrol. As a bonus irony, I ended up with the same dappled grey mare I had stolen last time. Only this time, all the witnesses were dead.

 

To be clear, they weren’t dead because of me. I followed my new playbook and used my Shouts liberally. I started with a nice Force Push to clear some space between them and us, then used a combination of Timeout and Force Speed to get behind people, take off their helmets, then smack them as hard as I could with the flat of my blade. Sometimes it took a couple hits, but I was able to successfully knock out quite a few of them. The rest were mowed down with much less mercy by my companions.

 

After the battle was over, Lazhah reversed my handiwork; he walked up to the unconscious Stormcloaks and, one by one, dispatched them with a quick thrust of his sword. When I protested, he gave me a flat stare and said, “We don’t have the manpower to take them prisoner and we can’t just let them go free. They’re rebels; this is war. You need to accept that and have the strength to do what needs to be done.”

 

Which, I mean, he was right, in the strictest sense, and once again I had no recourse or valid argument.

 

The dappled grey’s name was Tina (that is as close an approximation to the sound she made as I can manage) and we got along famously as soon as I fed her some carrots and an apple and promised we were heading to a place with a warm stable. I warned her it would be a long trip, but she didn’t care; she was very tired of standing around in the outdoors while other horses got to go places that presumably had roofs.

 

I expected this new arrangement to be good for everyone, but when I went to Helen and began to uncinch my saddle so I could transfer it, she looked back at me with her huge eyes and did an impressive rendition of a growl. “You aren’t abandoning me for that…that dray, are you?”

 

“I…no, of course we’re not abandoning you. We wouldn’t just leave you here.”

 

“Then why are you taking off my saddle?”

 

“Well, I’m going to ride Tina instead, of course. I…”

 

“You most certainly will not! I am a Sayvay, I will not be reduced to carrying luggage like a dray!”

 

“I thought you would like this. You do not seem very fond of me.”

 

“That is of no account! This is a matter of pride, not popularity!”

 

For the love of…I sighed and put my hazy Psych 101 (technically Psych 304 - I was working on a Psych minor) skills to work.

 

“You don’t understand, Helen – this isn’t about preference. It is about…” I leaned forward and added in a low conspiratorial voice, “...intelligence.”

 

“I…what?”

 

“You and I know you are much smarter than her.”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Of course. That’s why I’m doing this – because I need you for more important tasks.”

 

“Im…important?”

 

“Yes. I apologize, I should have told you this plan earlier but I wanted your promotion to be a surprise.”

“Promotion?”

 

“Yes! You are now Horse First Class! Here is the insignia for your new office.” I dug in my pack and pulled out a box of sweets I had purchased in Ivarstead. It had stood out because a bright blue bow had been wrapped around the box, a rare occasion of someone making an effort at presentation in this god-forsaken world. I untied the ribbon, then stood and, with as much dramatic flair as I could manage, tied it in a bow to Helen’s mane. “Congratulations, Helen, First Class Horse!”

 

“Well, I mean…” She turned her head, looking back at the bow (or at least trying – I’m not sure if she could see it or not). “…I am honored, of course, but…”

“With this promotion comes, of course, extra pay.”

 

“…I don’t know…pay? What pay?”

 

“An extra apple each day, as well as first dibs on grazing spots when we stop.”

 

This seemed to placate her and I finally got my saddle onto Tina and, for the moment, everything seemed fine.

 

We gathered what Stormcloak supplies we had room for, including a nice selection of meats from a recent hunt, tools, furs, and weapons, especially arrows. Lazhah wanted to set the tents on fire but I managed to talk him out of that; the last thing I wanted to add to my already-guilty conscience was a forest fire. He resorted to slashing holes in them with his sword, much he had to their recent inhabitants.

 

As we got back on the road, Kellan gave me a wry grin.

 

“With the way you go about things with all these animals, I could almost believe you can actually talk to them.”

 

I shrugged. “I can.”

 

“What?”

 

“I can talk to them, as plainly as I am talking to you now.”

 

“What?!”

 

I frowned at him. “I take it back – they have better comprehension than you. I said…”

“I heard what you said, Little Dragon. I just…have a hard time believing it.”

 

I shrugged again. “Despite what Christian Scientists will tell you, belief does not create reality - it is true despite your disbelief. By the way, Ninzfal hates it when you dig your toes into his flank. Like you’re doing right now. So try to break that habit, will you?”

 

For the third time, “What?” Kellan glanced down at his feet, then turned his toes out. “I didn’t know I was doing that.”

 

“He knows, which is why he hasn’t thrown you off. But now that you know, try not to.”

 

“I…um…of course. Erm…sorry, Ninzfal.” Kellan patted the horse’s neck and Ninzfal flicked his ears.

 

“He says you’re forgiven. Maybe we can find you softer boots.”

 

It was later that night, when we made camp on a hill overlooking the ruins of Helgen (we thought about going into the city but, by the looks of it, bandits had taken over the place and there didn’t seem to be a reason to fight unnecessary battles), that the squabbling began.

 

See, the other horses noticed the ribbon and, of course, Helen started boasting about her “promotion” and the perks that came with it and an inevitable and completely foreseeable argument broke out. I won’t bore you with the details – suffice to say, by the end of our journey, all the horses were bedecked in ribbons and carried hastily made-up titles of varying ridiculousness and I wished on more than one occasion that I had just kept my fool mouth shut. I can only imagine the chaos they must have created once they got back to the Imperial stables.

 

 

Don't feed the bastards. Feed the horses instead.

 

 

 

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