Daughter to Dragons- a Skyrim inspired fantasy

Chapter Eight

For the past couple of days, Rhythe has been trying to teach me a little bit about magic.  Unfortunately, either he was a bad teacher or I was a poor student.  Though, I was sure it was the former.  I knew how to conjure a bow and summon a familiar, but this destruction magic was beyond me.  He said that I should read a tome on the matter.  That was how he learned.  But where was I supposed to find a tome around here?

I sighed, letting my frustration turn into heat.  A glowing, orange ember burst out of the palm of my hand.  It was small, but it was enough.  I turned my palm down to the dry brush.  Grey wisps of smoke snaked through the air, dissipating into the sky.  I grinned to myself and leaned down, blowing into the smolders.  A flame jumped out of the grass, making its way through the brush and circling around the branches. 

I couldn’t help but sit back and smiling, admiring my handiwork.  I had actually used magic.

By the time Rhythe returned, the fire was roaring and the storm clouds were upon us.  He tossed a couple of hares at my feet and plopped into the dirt beside me.  I pulled at my dagger and began cutting the skin off the brown and white one closest to me.  He did the same to his own.

Beyond the crackling of the fire, I heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.  I craned my head around the rocks looking to the east.  The fires outlining Dragonsreach were barely visible.  It’d be impossible to see once the storm was upon us.  I only prayed that it wouldn’t be a bad one.  With Whiterun so close, the storm would only serve to torture us—keeping us within sight of our destination, but just out of reach.

I rolled up the rabbit skin and stuffed it in my rucksack.

“You should let that dry out,” Rhythe said.  “Wouldn’t want it rotting on you.”

“Yes, because it will dry out so well in the rain.”  I rolled my eyes and began cutting into the pink flesh with my dagger.  “I’ll dry it tomorrow when we get to Whiterun.  Where we can actually find some place dry.”

He smirked.  “I suppose I would be a good idea, Dragontooth.”  He grabbed a stick a stuck his rabbit bits on the end, holding them over the fire.  “Just don’t complain to me when it starts to stink.”

I bit back my sneer and followed his suit, sticking my meat over the fire, frowning all the time.  We ate in silence and fell asleep in silence.  Until the rains began to fall.

I lurched awake, shivering beneath the meager blankets and furs I had over me.  I cursed Malborn for not giving us a tent to use during our travels.  Curling into a ball and covering my face with the blankets did nothing to provide warmth.  They were soaked through and through.  I peered out of my cold and wet fort of blankets at Rhythe’s own heap.  Pellets like ice lashed at my exposed face, like little whips punishing my curiosity.

“Rhythe!” I called, my voice hoarse from the cold.  “Rhythe!  Are you awake?”  There was a little movement beneath the blankets, I thought.  “Rhythe!”

Suddenly, an irritated Rhythe popped up from beneath the furs.  His red-rimmed eyes bore into mine.  “What do you want, woman?  I’m trying to sleep!”

“I’m cold.”

He rolled his eyes.  Or, that was what he would do if I could see him, I’m sure.  “And I’m not?  Go back to sleep.”  He rolled over, his back to me.

I went deeper into my blankets, trying to find even the remotest semblance of warmth, but to no avail.  The chattering in my teeth could’ve been heard all the way to Windhelm.  Mikald was probably listening to the strange noise, wondering what in Oblivion it could be.