enroute

It did not take us very long to reach Weatherleah, and the trip was thankfully uneventful, no more ogres or bears. It gave me enough time to acquaint myself further with Ariella. I was finally able to see her a little better. She is most evidently of Nord descent, with their characteristic fair hair and skin and heartiness of body. But I could see how she herself diverged as one who chose to see the rest of Cyrodiil, given the reddish brown blush on her forehead and cheeks that only prolonged exposure to the western and southern sun could imbue. She has most definitely seen many things that most Nords have not. But those were not the most striking things about her. It was her eyes, the colour of the northern sky, that gave her experience away.

"I'm originally from a small settlement in the Jerall Mountains," she told me. "My mother and father were shopkeepers, and I was their only child."

"Were?" I asked. "Are they not still alive?"

Ariella did not look at me, nor did she immediately answer, but continued to walk along the path, her eyes fixed straight ahead. I had asked an awkward question and refrained from asking any more.

"I don't know," she finally replied. "I ran away when I was sixteen. I prefer not to explain further, with respect to you."

"I understand," was all I could say then.

"Crumbs, get a move on! We should just mount you and get there faster, you lazy beast!"

The chestnut horse snorted, almost as if he were reprimanding Ariella for taking her anxiety out on him. He trotted up behind her and nuzzled her shoulder, but to that she did not respond.

The farm was in sight and we both exhaled and picked up our pace. I saw one of the twins strolling about, though I wasn't sure if it was Reynold or Guilbert, they both look so much alike.