@Everyone: Thanks! Everyone liked the second one, but I prefer the first.
the cave: Steepfall Burrow
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This takes place after Aravi returns Kharjo’s amulet. He offers to travel with her, and she accepts.Aravi pulled open the door to the inn and held it tight when the vicious wind tried to tear it from her grasp. Behind her, Kharjo grabbed the door. “Go in,” he said. “This one has the door.” Inside, Aravi wiped her feet on the already sodden mat and stepped aside. Kharjo pulled the door shut as he came in, cutting off the flow of cold air into the inn.
While Kharjo stomped the snow off of his steel clad boots, Aravi went to the counter to get rooms for the night. Kharjo looked around the room and noted the expressions on the faces of the regulars. They were content to frown and turn their backs on him. He noted a few of them checked that their coin purses were still where ever they were supposed to be. He chucked to himself. That was a mild reaction to a Khajiit. He glanced towards the counter and saw Aravi was still talking to the innkeeper. The Nords were leaving her alone, so he chose an unoccupied table near the hearth in the center of the room and sat with his back towards the fire.
A serving girl reluctantly came to him and took his order. The Khajiit might not be liked in Skyrim, but the septim was more than welcome.
The serving girl left and Kharjo waited. Moments later, Aravi joined him at the table. Instead of sitting as he did, she sat to face the fire. Kharjo turned to join her and accepted a mug of something he may have ordered from the serving girl who had returned. He sipped at it experimentally. Aravi shook her head at the girl and started unwrapping the soaking strips of cloth from her feet. After placing the cloth near the fire to dry, she stretched out. She leaned her back against the edge of the table and rested her feet at the edge of the hearth. She sighed with contentment and Kharjo could see her visibly relax.
Kharjo wondered why she didn’t wear any boots or shoes, but he kept that question to himself. Instead, he watched her as she enjoyed the flames. She had her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. He let her sit for a while before speaking. “This one wonders, how does Aravi feel so at ease among these Nords?”
Aravi cracked open an eye and looked around the room. “I did something for them the last time I was here. They won’t bother us.” She closed her eye again. The smile had vanished though.
Kharjo thought a moment, then, “the nightmares?”
“Yes.”
For weeks, the people that would meet his caravan at the edge of town complained of nightmares. Then about a week ago, the nightmares stopped. The town’s folk told him that a priest arrived to help them, only he didn’t do anything for days. Then, a Khajiit traveler came to town and spoke with him. They both left for the tower on the hill overlooking the town. That night, there were no nightmares. Kharjo turned his attention from his thoughts back to Aravi. It became apparent she was not going to elaborate however.
He changed the subject. “This one notices you have a Cyrodilic accent. Kharjo has been to Cyrodiil as well.”
Aravi opened her eyes and asked him, “Why did you come here?”
“Ahkari freed me from a Cyrodilic prison, and I was hired to protect her caravan to repay that debt. A word of advice, do not mix alcohol and gambling. Taken together, they will empty your pocket of every septim.”
Aravi smiled at that. Then Kharjo asked, “Why is Aravi here? Surely she would prefer to be home in Elsweyr.”
She didn’t answer him immediately. Kharjo waited and let her think. It was clear she was deciding what she wanted to say and what she wanted to keep to herself. After a few moments, she began speaking. “I do not remember Elsweyr, I left when I was very young. When I was in Cyrodiil, I guess I was a vampire hunter. That wasn’t what I intended to do, but that’s what I did a lot of. It got to be too much though. Then when my best friend left for Morrowind, I needed to leave Cyrodiil. A healer suggested a colder climate would be good for me. So here I am.”
“A vampire hunter?” Kharjo’s ears perked with interest. “This one hasn’t fought those; he goes the other direction when he hears of rumors. What was it like?”
Aravi’s ears lowered. “It was dark and terrifying. They do things to their victims… I don’t know how I did it as long as I did.” She shivered at the memories.
Sensing that the subject was closed, Kharjo asked another question, “Where does Aravi’s path lead?”
“We’ll go to Whiterun. The Jarl has some bounties out that should pay pretty well, even after we split the rewards. After that…”
“And after that?” Kharjo prompted. Another subject she wanted to avoid, Kharjo noted.
“We’ll see.”
Kharjo was disappointed by the reply but was not surprised. Just to see what kind of response he was going to get from her he said, “The road to Whiterun is dangerous.”
“Then we’ll see how we fight together.”
Kharjo grinned. She was not much of a talker, but she isn’t skittish. He could live with that, for now. She did get his amulet back, and from her answer, she probably didn’t just steal it. He was sure those who took it were no longer among the living. He downed the rest of his drink. He made a face when he finished. “Must have been from the spoiling batch.”
“I’m going to bed” Aravi said. “I’d like to get an early start. If you aren’t up, I’ll assume you’ve changed your mind.”
Kharjo set his empty mug on the table and stood up. “Khajiit will be ready. Which room is this one’s?”
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Aravi returns Kharjo's amulet and he offers to travel with her. She accepts his offer and they set out for Whiterun after spending the night at the inn.TIME: 11:07