Aeyrin and Bishop spent the rest of their day in Sky Haven Temple, listening to Esbern's stories and raiding the Blades' supplies.
They didn't want to take too much from them – resupplying here must have been tough – but they did help themselves to some food and then they started to scour the Blades' research and records.
There was one thing of particular interest to them – Erik's maps.
He had dozens of them, one more impressive than the other. He was clearly a very good scout. They had so much detail scribbled near each location. They did mostly cover just the Reach, Hjaalmarch and Haafingar, but it was still very useful information. Not only for their adventures. They managed to determine a possibly perfect location for their next stay.
Erik had labeled it 'Four Skull Lookout'. They weren't sure if it was a name given to it by a previous explorer or by Erik. Maybe it was a lookout that had... four skulls somewhere around. They couldn't really say anything to Erik's poetic abilities, but it didn't really matter. His notes said 'small structure' 'bandits' and 'cleared' by the place. That sounded perfect. They wouldn't have to do any 'clearing' themselves, likely, it was far from the roads and any settlements, safe for the ruins of Karthwasten, and it was well situated in the Reach cliffs. It was also rather close. They would just have to traverse the River Karth at some point and scale up the cliffs to reach it. It was very easily doable in a matter of a few hours.
And unlike many other areas in the Reach, this one didn't have any of the 'Forsworn' notes by Erik anywhere too near it. Although Bishop did quip about the fact that if there was a perfect place to let Aeyrin in her werewolf form loose, it was in a Forsworn camp. She didn't seem to appreciate the jest.
They spent the night at the Blades' stronghold and headed out right after breakfast. It would have been nice to see the rest of the Order when they came back. Well... maybe not all of them. Erik at least. Delphine was never really 'nice to see' or just... 'nice', and they didn't really know any of the others.
In any case, Aeyrin didn't want to linger at all. She was always worried that they wouldn't make it to a safe place in time, even if they had plenty of it.
The journey did require them to take the long road several times, so she wasn't really wrong to worry. It wasn't an easily accessible area. But they made it there by the afternoon.
The place was cleared, just as Erik's notes had promised. There were a couple of decomposing bandit corpses there, but Aeyrin and Bishop promptly shoved them down from the cliffs so that they wouldn't have to spend their evening around the smell. Other than that, there was only a small outdoor barrow with one sarcophagus inside.
There were no skulls there though.
The two of them worked diligently on securing the structure with their traps first before they started to make dinner and set up their camp. The only place around to bathe was the river below, but it would take a long time to scale down to it, so they had to make do with the water from their waterskins for washing. It was far from ideal, but they were used to taking these measures in less than perfect places by now.
They spent the rest of the afternoon idling in the camp lazily until the time came for Aeyrin to get chained to some of the sturdy stony pillars in the ruins. It wasn't exactly 'time' yet, but she was getting more and more fidgety by the minute and Bishop knew all too well that there was no convincing her of her worries being irrational.
"You still scared?" Bishop smirked at her a little as he fastened the collar around her neck. She kept glancing at the skies, as if she was expecting the moon to suddenly jump up several inches to its highest peak in a second she wasn't looking.
"Yeah," she shivered, uncertain whether it was from the cold on her naked body or from the fear. She couldn't even keep the comfort of Bishop's ring around her neck this time. He had told her before that it must have been a miracle that the chain didn't snap the first night of her transformations. The ring would have been lost forever if it had.
"You're still not?" she scowled at him. How was he still so calm about all of this?
"No," Bishop chuckled. "You're gonna have to do more than turn into a werewolf to make me scared of you."
"You can't even shoot me this time," her frown never disappeared from her face. This felt even more dangerous than before. Bishop was still wounded. He couldn't use his bow – his contingency plan from last time. What would he do now if she got loose?
"Well... I can still stab you with that paralyzing arrow," he smirked. "Not like I'm gonna need it. I'm telling you, sweetness, the chains are good. They will hold again, just like they did for the two nights before."
He was right of course, but she still couldn't help but worry. How could she not? Bishop would be, once again, the only one here to get hurt in case of some unpredictable rampage on her part.
"How does it feel?" he asked after a moment of silence as he moved to fasten the chain around one of her arms.
"The... the transformation?" she couldn't help but cringe at the question. She didn't even know how to answer it. She didn't even understand why he would want to know something like that.
"Yeah. Does it hurt? Do you feel it when it's about to happen?"
"N-no... it doesn't hurt..." she shook her head with a sigh. He really looked curious and beyond just his usual concern for her. She should have been more happy that he was so... fine with all of this. That he wasn't panicking like she was every time this was about to happen. She just couldn't wrap her head around how he could be like that. "I... can tell... a little before. Only like a second. Just... feels like this... pressure. Something pushing me from the inside. And then I don't remember anything."
Bishop only nodded in acknowledgement. At least it didn't hurt her. He kind of suspected as much – she would have at least screamed if it did, but he still liked to make sure. And he was... curious. Who wouldn't be? He had never had the chance to actually see a werewolf for very long, let along talk to one.
He was done fastening the chains on her, though it was a bit more challenging with only one arm. He took a few steps back only to signal that he had finished and Aeyrin promptly clenched her fists and yanked the chains with all her might, trying to make sure that they would hold. She could never be entirely sure, of course, but trying still made her feel a tiny bit better. She spent a minute or two trying her hardest to break out of them, without actually letting her wrists slip from the ring cuffs, and then she finally sat back down onto the ground and wrapped the blanket around herself snugly. Now there was the excruciating waiting again.
"You really didn't remember anything at all? Not even a second?" Bishop continued to ask as he settled himself a safe distance away on their bedroll by the fire. He would have spent as much time with her, warming her up until the transformation came, but he knew that she wouldn't allow it any more than she had before. At least he pointedly retrieved one of his arrows from the quiver, just to ease her mind that he had it, and he placed it right next to himself.
"No," she shook her head vehemently at him. "I don't... I don't really wanna remember," she mumbled. They talked about this and Bishop had made a lot of good points about her making peace with the 'weapons in her arsenal'. Just like the Shouting – getting this thing under control could only be a good thing. But she still couldn't help but be wary. Vilkas's words of 'becoming one' with the werewolf still resonated in her and made her feel uneasy. And she was convinced that remembering herself as that monster was not going to make things any easier.
"We might not need all this... eventually," Bishop gestured to the chains. Although he had no illusions. There was definitely going to be a limit to how comfortable Aeyrin would ever be able to get with the lycanthropy. She would probably want those chains, just in case, even if she could ever fully control that thing. Still, he didn't like seeing her like this. She got comfortable with the Shouts too in time. He just wanted her to stop looking so forlorn about her predicament.
He himself was surprised how little he minded all this. He was never really fond of these... things. Vampires, werewolves... anything like that. People were plenty lethal and dangerous without abilities born of some Daedra's meddling. But his aversion mostly came from a different place. He just couldn't understand anyone who would do this to themselves. Anyone who would willingly offer themselves to one of those creepy Princes for their power, rather than rely on their own skills and wit. He had an aversion to people trying to force others into their cults, brainwashed zealots who only acted from blind obedience to their Daedric masters. But Aeyrin was none of these. She didn't choose this for herself and he saw nothing wrong with adapting when one was dealt some crappy cards. Who hadn't? He had done that his entire life. He had his share of leashes he didn't choose. And Aeyrin would get free, just like he had. But until then, she had to make do with who she was now.
Besides, he couldn't really force himself to be freaked out by the werewolf – not her. He could still see her, even in a different skin. And he was also partial to wolves anyway.
"I don't want to control it. I want it gone," she hissed behind her gritted teeth.
"I know, princess," he sighed. He understood. Losing control, losing time, it was never easy. He definitely knew that even better now after their insane five-day bender with Jack's cursed rum. And it was especially not easy for her when she reviled werewolves and creatures like that with all her being. He doubted that the Companions would just let them take over their hard work in looking for the cure. And they probably had a better handle on that. And more freedom and time for certain. The Brothers looked rather determined – that boded well. At least he hoped so.
"Just... forget it. I don't wanna think about this anymore," she groaned in annoyance. Not that she was likely to forget her beastly troubles just then, but she could at least try. "Just... talk about something else, please. Anything."
For all she cared, he could conjure up a horror tale about Ulfric Stormcloak's infected toe and she wouldn't mind one bit.
As long as it was anything that had at least a little potential to distract her.
...
Bishop was kind of getting used to this.
This was only his third night spent like this, but still, the growling and rattling of chains quickly blended into the silence of the night for him.
The very first thing he did after Aeyrin had transformed into the werewolf, was to toss her the wolf-head ring he had for safekeeping for the night. He knew she wanted it. Even though this time, he didn't have to go through so much trouble to steal it from her in the first place and even though there was real chance that she didn't even know that it was something of hers, that she didn't remember anything about that necklace at all, still, he somehow felt like she knew. Like she was growling so much in the first place because she didn't have it on her.
He was kind of right. It was really heartwarming. The minute she caught the necklace in her large palm, she studied it curiously and then clutched it as if her life depended on it. That hand never loosened since. Not even for a second. He just hoped she wouldn't crush it like this.
Aeyrin did calm down considerably as she received her treasured possession back. But unfortunately, that only lasted for twenty minutes or so. She began growling and lashing out at Bishop again soon enough.
Still... progress. At least he felt like it was a good sign that her memories and consciousness were right there. One day, she might remember him properly too.
But for now, he had another thing to concern himself with. She looked kinda hungry. Well... every werewolf probably looked hungry all the time. Hungry for something else than just regular meat, most likely. But she would have to do with that. And he wanted her to calm herself for a while again, if only for her sake. It worked last time.
He took some of their rabbits, again, though he doubted that her werewolf self cared about what type of animal meat it was. He prepared them a little, like he usually did. Maybe she would be even more pliable with some of her favorite spices on them. Karnwyr never seemed to notice the difference – he was eager to eat anything, raw, cooked, spiced, plain, it didn't matter. But she was not a wolf.
Still, there were a lot of things that reminded Bishop of one.
He spent some time cooking several rabbit haunches on the fire with a bit of their spices. He didn't want to waste too much, but it was nice to get her something that she would like in her original form as well. And when it was done, cooked into the crispiness she always liked, he plucked the bone from the first haunch and tossed the meat to her. He wasn't sure if she was going to pay attention to a bone that small and the last thing he wanted was for it to get stuck in her throat.
As he had predicted, she instantly calmed down, more concentrated on catching the meat or finding whatever bits that ended up on her blanket when her tight catch chopped it up a little. He was going to toss them only one by one, all to placate her continuously. He would be a fool to use up all his trumps all at once.
It was nice. She seemed to like it even more than last time when he just cooked some slab of meat haphazardly. The way she kept searching for scraps on the blanket definitely was telling. And she kept licking her maw with her long tongue. It was kinda cute. And it really made him proud of himself. He always felt weirdly proud when she liked his food and it was an even bigger accomplishment when it made her werewolf self act like a... puppy. Maybe next month he could save her a horker steak. She really loved those. Or maybe she would like something sweet too. Who was to say she wouldn't? He could just start with some honey-coated meat first to test out that theory.
He watched her scour the ground with her eyes once more, but she came up empty. When she couldn't find any more meat around, her gaze rested on Bishop once more. She studied him calmly, almost disturbingly so.
And he couldn't help it.
With a wide, cheeky grin, he grabbed another haunch from the fire and dangled it in his hand teasingly.
She looked really pissed about that. But surprisingly enough, she did nothing. She didn't lunge at him, she didn't snap her teeth, didn't growl. Maybe she knew that it wasn't the way to get anything from Bishop. Maybe she knew that he was doing this to calm her down and that freaking out right after she ate the first might not make him too eager to repeat the tactic. Or maybe she didn't see the point in the anger anymore. He couldn't say what a werewolf could be thinking, even less so an unaware one.
It did remind him of something. He wasn't even sure why that memory just sprung in his head, but it did.
"You know, when Karnwyr was little, only a pup, no older than a year, we went to this place in the Velothi Mountains on some stupid mission of Lukil's," he started to recount the memory out loud. "Lukil, I think I told you about him, right? He was our second chief at Lost Knife, right after Sammy. Then there were the other three and then there was Thorn. Anyway, that's not important. Karnwyr and I went all the way to the east to get that shit done, but on our way back, we ran into a big group of frostbite spiders."
He stopped the tale for a while to watch Aeyrin for a bit. She only let out a low huff at his recounting. There was nothing in her expression that hinted at any kind of reaction beyond the perpetual anger and frustration, but he chose to interpret it his own way.
"Yeah, I know you hate those shits too. Remember back when we were heading to Solitude for the first time? We tangled with the spiders there too, had all those webs in our armors and shit. We had to fight a dragon only in our clothes. Remember that?"
Nothing but a brief, low growl.
"No? Well then maybe you remember that we fucked right in the middle of the road after that, right then and there," he smirked. He certainly remembered that vividly. The post-battle heat, the feeling of victory after that feat, the empty road, too easy to encounter travelers. It was quite memorable.
But Aeyrin still gave him no obvious reaction.
"Fine. Whatever. Wasn't my point anyway," he sighed. He wasn't sure what he was hoping for. He kinda felt like some College mage doing experiments. Like he was prodding her for a reaction. He really shouldn't tell her just how much he interacted with her during the nights. He wasn't sure how she'd take it. And she didn't really ask anything besides 'did I hurt you?' before anyway.
"So, anyway, the spiders," he continued. "Poor Karnwyr got all tangled in those fucking sticky webs too. He was covered in them. I'm pretty sure those shits wanted to cocoon him or something. Anyway, I took care of the last ones and Karnwyr started to roll around on the ground, trying to get rid of the webs."
Aeyrin still just stood there, occasionally rattling her chains subtly, but she didn't react in any other way. Maybe that was good. At least she wasn't aggressive. That was certainly progress.
"He couldn't get them out of his fur no matter what. I tried to help him. I tried to get the most of them out, as much as I could, but they were all over him, sticking to the fur and to his skin. I even emptied out my waterskin to get the webs out, but it wasn't enough. There was no helping him. So he was stuck like that until we made it to the lake. It would take us hours. And Karnwyr kept fidgeting. He was so fucking uncomfortable. Like his skin wasn't his. He kept biting his own fur, kept running around in circles. In time, he even started to snap at me whenever I tried to get close to help him. He was completely out of it."
Aeyrin let out a huff of breath, but he wasn't sure if it was just an opportune timing, or if she was really listening to his story and filling the lull.
"So he was like that for a while. Until, like two hours later, he just... stopped. He calmed down completely. I don't know why. I never found out. The webs were still there. And he still wanted them gone. The minute he spotted the lake in the distance, he rushed to it like a wolf possessed," Bishop chuckled. "I don't know... I like to think that he just... accepted it, you know? He knew he could do nothing about it. He tried and tried and it didn't work. And he knew that there would be an end to his frustration eventually – when we found water. But until then, he just realized that he had to withstand it."
Still no reaction. But it was better than the thrashing for certain. Maybe there was a point when she realized the same.
"Well... I don't really know why I just thought of that, but I feel like it was all fucking profound and shit," he smirked at her. But when she still stood there, with barely a growl leaving her lips, he got distracted with another part of the story that kept nagging at him.
"I really fucking miss him," he sighed mournfully. He wondered about where Karnwyr was and what he was doing so often. Maybe he could try to track him down in the Rift one day. He hoped that Karnwyr understood him – that he would find his way towards the cottage and hang around the forests there. "I know you do too," he smiled a little at her.
He didn't even watch her for a reaction this time, but much to his surprise, a whine, equally as sad as his sigh was, escaped her lips.
He knew it! He knew she could understand him. That she remembered shit.
It could still be a coincidence, but... he chose to believe that it wasn't. It was a nice thought.
Of course, it got quickly interrupted. Within minutes, Aeyrin seemed tired of waiting for Bishop to toss her the meat and she started to growl menacingly and thrash in her chains again.
But maybe he could relinquish one more haunch just then. She kinda deserved it for that whine.
Her commiseration always seemed to make things easier, no matter the form she was in, apparently.
...
The second night, Bishop felt like he had a flow going already.
First the necklace, then the food. During the day, they had spent some time by the river in order to wash up and clean their clothes and armor. By some fucking miracle, there were actually a few slaughterfish in the stream. Ordinarily, that would have been a bad thing, but this time, it meant that Aeyrin and Bishop were able to run from them to the shore and have them trying to reach them there. It made them easy for the picking. Even without a bow. Their melee weapons did the work just as well in the translucent water.
Bishop wasn't going to feed werewolf Aeyrin a slaughterfish though. There were the bones again. And besides, he would much rather save the fish for the two of them in their human and elven forms. They've suffered enough rabbits and the werewolf liked them anyway. It only meant that he could sacrifice more to her that night.
Aeyrin was getting quiet a little more throughout the evening. Especially after she was fed another haunch. She could still get really aggressive, but he took the progress as a good sign.
He talked to her all night. Idle stories from the past, lamenting over Karnwyr's absence, or reminiscing about their own exploits. It felt a little... odd. He wasn't used to one-sided conversations like these unless he was confessing something to her. But... more often than not, it wasn't so bad. He was used to talking to her about anything. And... he kinda felt like she was listening and answering too. It could be a grunt, a huff, even an angry growl and bark. He was pretty sure he must have been imagining it all – wishful thinking for certain – but it did feel like she really was reacting to his words. At least that was what he chose to believe.
It was almost dawn once more and Aeyrin had been calm for a while now. It was at least twenty minutes. That wasn't very usual. Maybe she was getting tired already.
But just then, he got the strangest urge.
She was being so... tranquil. He just wanted to try. He just wanted to try and get a little close. They had a good rapport by now. They had an... understanding. She got her necklace, she got her food and they were friendly companions for the night, right? She would let him get closer.
He deboned another haunch and stepped closer to her. He wasn't stupid enough to try and let her eat off his hand of course, maybe someday, but he was going to use it as a bit of a distraction.
He tossed her the meat just as he approached her and she got predictably preoccupied by it. He took another step. And another. And soon, he was in front of her. Still a bit far, but close enough for her to attack. But she didn't. She watched him. Very warily. She kept chewing on the meat and she watched for every motion, but she didn't attack.
Progress. Good. She didn't want to kill him. Maybe she even realized who he was. Maybe she even... wanted him near.
He couldn't help it. It was too tempting to try. He wanted to see if he could.
He reached out, intent on stroking her fur, rubbing her behind her ear or something.
But he barely got to move his arm at all.
She lunged instantly. He almost didn't make it, but the shock propelled him away, jumping back to evade her teeth. Fortunately, her claws came only later, when he was already out of their reach.
Oof. Fuck. Bad idea. Alright.
Well... no, it wasn't a bad idea. Just... the first try. She would calm down about this. She did calm down about the food, the necklace, his talking. She just needed time. She was just startled.
He would try again tomorrow.
...
It was the last night of the full Secunda that month. Last night of Aeyrin's transformations.
Bishop couldn't really say he hated these nights at all. It was often surprisingly pleasant. Sometimes it was frustrating and dangerous, sure, but sometimes it was nice too. When he talked to her and, at least as he convinced himself, she listened to him, even when her consciousness was pushed back like this.
But he was also kind of tired.
They never got as much sleep during the day as they would during the night, but it wasn't just that. The nights spent trying to get close to her were both encouraging and disheartening. If she was in her original form, he would just have her pressed up in his embrace, all night long. He missed that. Even though they kind of made up for it in the morning, it still was time that he had to spend being practically 'shunned' by her.
But he chose to look at it differently. He was getting close to a part of her that wanted nothing to do with him.
And he would get close. Tonight. That was his mission for the time being.
This time, he would touch her and she wouldn't lunge at him.
It sounded easier than it was.
He had to be really fucking careful. He felt like whenever she lunged, she aimed her attacks at his wounded arm. Like she knew that it was the one place where it would do the most damage. Even if her attack didn't do much damage on its own, injuring that arm further would just be a nightmare for him.
It was vicious and calculating. Unless he was imagining it. He couldn't really tell what was just in his head and what was real intention by her. He could never tell, because he had no idea what was going on inside her head in these moments. Were there really memories? Or were those just some visual and scent clues she got from studying him like her prey?
It was impossible to tell. Much like with Karnwyr, he could never be sure if she really understood what was going on around her, what he was saying to her, what he meant by his hand gestures and expressions.
But he didn't need to know with Karnwyr. They always understood each other. And he understood Aeyrin even more by now. And so did she understand him in return. It was there, whether right below the surface or buried deep down, no matter, he would dig it up.
Yet Aeyrin seemed really persistent in her defiance.
He was at it for hours. Using meat, or pretending to try and steal the necklace – any trick to try and fool her. He also tried a slow approach, he tried reassuring smiles and words, but none of it worked.
Every single time, without a fault, she would try to attack the second she thought he was going to try and touch her.
He did manage once, but that was more of an accident when he brushed her furry arm as he quickly retreated from her. It didn't count. He wanted her to acknowledge that he touched her without her getting aggressive over it. And he would manage.
One day.
This was probably not his night, unfortunately.
He was getting so exhausted. All those quick stunts took a lot out of him and the strain of previous days and nights weren't ideal either.
It was barely past half of the night and he was done. He couldn't move anymore. He just sat stiffly on the bedroll, wishing that he could just fall down on it and go to sleep.
Then again, why couldn't he?
He was sure that Aeyrin would be waking him up all the time with her aggressive chain rattling, but... he could still catch some shut-eye regardless right? A few minutes at least. What was the harm in that? She wasn't getting out of those chains anyway.
"Alright, princess. Game over. You win. For tonight," he chuckled weakly at her. "I'm fucking beat. I need some sleep. You gonna let me sleep? I'll leave you alone too, promise. And I'll give you the last haunch."
Aeyrin only growled at him angrily, snapping her teeth at the empty air.
Ah, it was worth a shot to try and talk her into it. He would attempt to rest anyway, but he hoped to placate her before. Hopefully though their old dynamic would still hold now and she would stay quiet for a little while after she ate. Though that never worked when it came to the last piece of meat he had.
With a long yawn, he quickly got rid of the bone and tossed the meat over to her again. That was it for tonight. She would definitely get pissed about it in a minute, but he ran out sooner than usual during his approach experiments.
He didn't care anymore. He laid himself down onto the bedroll with another yawn and closed his eyes. The brief sound of her munching on the meat was the only thing that disturbed the silence for a while, but he knew that it wouldn't last long. It was almost as if he was waiting for it. He couldn't fall asleep until it happened and she became aggressive again.
But much to his surprise, no such noise came. Only a very soft rattle of those chains that was common for any of her subtle movements.
Despite the tiredness, he opened his eyes in a second to see what happened. He was kind of horrified for a while that in the brief time he let his guard down, she had somehow managed to get out of her binds and escape or lay in wait for him somewhere, but that was ridiculous of course.
She was still there, still chained, but much to his shock, she was completely quiet. Not only that, she was actually curled onto the blanket herself with her eyes closed.
She was... going to sleep too, now that he was.
It made him oddly happy. He wasn't sure why. She didn't want to kill him at every opportunity. Maybe she was just scared he would kill her. Survival instinct and all that. That was... comforting. Now that he was no threat, she didn't feel the need to defend herself anymore.
And he could really use the rest.
"Good night, sweetness," he smiled as he closed his eyes again. He could feel her gaze on him only a second later.
But she made no sound. The ruins fell serenely quiet again, lulling them both to sleep.
...
The sharp morning rays woke them early. Too early for their liking.
It must have only been an hour since Bishop had removed Aeyrin's chains and settled her into the bedroll beside him once more. It was like that every morning. She could protest however much she wanted, but he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't leave her there, lying naked and shivering and chained to the ruins, 'just in case' she turned again when Secunda disappeared from the skies. She wouldn't. Why would she? She never did. Fortunately, she was always too exhausted to stop him.
Even last night, the loud rattle of chains and her gasp woke him up when she transformed back. And he gathered enough energy to actually get up and bring her over to the bedroll then too.
Besides, it was much nicer to wake up with her in his arms. There was just no contest.
"Bish... stop doing that..." she mumbled, half-muffled by his chest as she pressed herself into his warm embrace when their mutual stirring woke them for a bit. "Gotta be... more c'rful."
"Shh," he let out a soft, tired chuckle. Every morning. He wasn't gonna change his mind and she knew it. But just like every morning they had to have this exchange, every morning he had to sate his curiosity as well.
"Still nothing?" he really hoped that she remembered something this time. He wasn't sure why. Maybe he was kinda proud of himself – he was convinced that he had a hand in calming her down and he was convinced that the calmer she was, the more in control she would be. Maybe he just... wanted to make things better for her at least this way, when he could do nothing to help cure her from this.
"Nothin'," she mumbled the answer again.
It was always disappointing to hear. But he had to remind himself that she had only been a werewolf for two months now. He felt a bit naïve, expecting some miracles right away. Especially with her attitude towards her wolven form. Maybe acceptance was part of it and she was far from accepting.
But no matter what, there was still the prevalent feeling of pride in him for what had transpired the last three nights.
It was the little victories that counted.