A/N: HOLY COW! An update?! I apologize for the hiatus, I have no reasonable excuse, but I do intend to finish this story :D

A Warm Welcome

To Shadowmere, her heart seemed unusually loud and fluttery as she ran. Despite the fact that she ran the same route almost every night in her dreams, she was having trouble staying upright and things kept changing distances. The voices in their incorporeal timbres were slurring and angry and the strongest roars made it all the more difficult to stay on her feet. Her instinct was to call back to them, but between the cottony-ness of her mouth and the inability to hear clearly, her voice was rendered nonexistent. Amidst the tumult, she could clearly hear a child crying, the sound making her sick to her stomach.

"Let me out!" she wanted to scream, desperation taking hold of her sanity. "Someone get me out of here!" She ran as fast as she could make her leaden feet move, spurred on by the voices that she couldn't hear, but felt. Her toes caught against the ground and against each other and she fell, slipping through the semi-solid ground and falling. Reaching for anything to take a hold of, she wanted to scream but now she heard nothing but a child screaming.

"Your Gods are DEAD!"

"Good morning." A thudding sound and a glum voice brought her out of her dream state with a jump and a gasp. She saw Ilend standing over her, his head eclipsing the sun, and judging by the look on his face, he was feeling almost as terrible as she was. Before she could return the salutation, she clambered to her feet and puked over the edge of the giant cask in which she had fallen asleep. "Seems I came just in time," Ilend muttered, surprisingly unbothered by her display.

"God damn it," she choked, spitting on the grass. "I'd sell my left foot for a cup of coffee," she said, wondering how it was that the sun was so damnably bright.

"No need," he said, holding a steaming mug of black gold toward her. "Plus it's damaged goods; no one would take the offer." Shadowmere couldn't think of a compelling argument to counter his, and settled for taking a cautious sip from the mug in her hand. Once she swallowed, the bitter, beautiful substance making the world seem less sickening, she looked up at him from the corner of her eyes.

"Thanks," she said, Ilend shrugging it off, his countenance as sallow as her own felt.

"It's no trouble," he said, leaning against the cask. "I needed some for me and you looked like you were going to be need it if and when you woke up."

"Oh please," she grunted, taking another sip. "I've had far worse than this before." As she swallowed, another thought popped into her head, threatening to split open her already throbbing skull. "Wait, were you watching me sleep?!" Ilend sighed and shook his head in annoyance.

"Not in a creepy way, more in a 'making sure you're still alive' way, but I guess I was, yes," he admitted, looking more exhausted than he had a moment earlier.

"What part of that isn't supposed to be creepy?!" she asked, burning her tongue with how quickly she filled her mouth with coffee.

"I was going to wake you up-"

"But then you got a hard-on?"

"Don't be revolting," he told her, with a disapproving look in his bloodshot eyes. "You were sound asleep when I found you and when I got back with the coffee, you looked like you were crying. I thought you were awake and I didn't want to intrude or scare you. When I figured out you were asleep, you looked like you were having a nightmare and before I could do anything, you woke up." Shadowmere rolled her eyes, the slight motion somehow making her headache worse.

"Hold this," she ordered, handing him the mug as she leaned against the side of the cask. "Oh hey…" she said, spotting the remains of her flower chain in the bottom of the cask and retrieving it. "I'm glad I found that," she added, holding it up for him to see before wrapping it around her neck.

"Yeah, wouldn't we all be lost without your wilted arts and crafts project?" he muttered, just loudly enough for her to hear. In one motion, she extended her middle finger in his direction, swung both legs over the edge and put them on the ground too clumsily for her own good. "Oh damn it," she hissed, lifting her injured appendage off the ground and clenching her jaw. "My foot's still broken."

"Did you think going on a bender and falling asleep in a grape stomping vat was going to accelerate the healing process?" Ilend asked in amused disbelief.

"I wasn't sober enough to think any of it through," she snapped, snatching the cup back and spilling some of the hot liquid on her hand in the process. While it did sting, she kept it to herself, not wanting to own up to being further victim to her own stupidity. "How much longer is it until we reach Chorrol?"

"With your hobbling, probably another six hours," he said, polishing off his own mug of coffee. "If we can hitch a ride, maybe more like four." Shadowmere groaned, knowing it wasn't just her foot that would make the journey excruciating. "Either way, here." She looked up to see Ilend holding a shaped wooden stick out to her.

"What's this?" she asked, too hungover to try and discern what it was using whatever logic seeped through her brain.

"A crutch," he stated, looking perplexed that she hadn't been able to figure it out. "If you're going to hobble, at least do it faster." Shadowmere laughed in spite of herself.

"You're an industrious drunk," she said, trying out the crutch and finding it to be just a little tall for her to use comfortably, but it was a vast improvement over trying to walk on her bad foot. "I'm starting to think you have no hangover at all."

"Oh believe me," Ilend said, shaking his head. "I've got a hangover that would kill a boar, but we've got walking to do and I don't have time to think about how bad my head hurts." Taking the last swallow of coffee, she took the crutch and started toward the road.

"Good attitude," she said handing him the mug. "You take those back, and I'll get a head start." Ilend scoffed, shaking his head and setting the mugs by a signpost.

"Not likely. Who knows how far ahead of me you'd get now that you've got the crutch."

"You might be better off letting me get a good solid head start," Shadowmere advised, noting that she did move quite a bit faster with the crutch. "If you follow too closely I might just be able to strike you in the ice bucket." Ilend quite visibly scowled, causing Shadowmere to smirk. She secretly delighted in getting any kind of a reaction out of people, and if it resulted in humorous faces being made, so much the better.

"You might want to reconsider that," he warned, walking on her right side, farthest from the crutch and therefore the hardest angle for her to take a swing at him with it. "I did bring you coffee and a crutch. Not to mention I played along with your ridiculous idea of staying with the Surilies."

"Is it lonely sitting up on that pedestal?" she asked, glancing over at him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"How did Menien stand you when you were carrying him out of Oblivion?" he wondered aloud. "Why didn't he just ask that you leave him behind?"

"He did," she said humorlessly. "Several times actually. Fortunately I don't cave to pressure that easily, otherwise your friend would still be there. Probably in several pieces. You're welcome." Ilend was quiet for quite a while after that comment, the only sound being that of her crutch hitting the ground and her foot hopping off of the dirt. As much as she didn't want to hear Ilend talk, the silence was hanging too heavy for her to endure. "Blech, my mouth tastes like puke." It was far from eloquent, and ever further from appropriate, but it was the only thing Shadowmere could come up with.

"Well, count yourself lucky," Ilend said with a scoff, glancing up at her. "Unlike our hosts, you know it's your own." She didn't want to laugh, but she couldn't stop the giggle that rushed past her voice box and only barely kept from dropping her crutch.

"I guess I can't fault that logic," she admitted. "What does your mouth taste like?" Ilend looked as though she had just thrown water in his face and promptly blushed.

"Play your cards right and you'll find out," he said, trying not to laugh out loud, while Shadowmere was overcome by the urge to run and jump off the nearest cliff.

"I phrased that extremely poorly," she confirmed, hoping her cheeks were blue enough that the flush of purple wouldn't be noticeable.

"Well if you wanted things to get uncomfortable, then you phrased it just perfectly," Ilend said. "But since you asked, this morning my mouth tastes like coffee and bad decisions."

"And bad decisions taste like?"

"Second rate wine, mostly."

The remainder of the walk was mostly quiet, the only sounds being those made by Shadowmere's hobbling and the occasional retch as one or both of the hungover pair took a momentary respite to empty the contents of their stomachs by the side of the rode.

"Hey," Ilend croaked, perhaps five hours into their six hour trek. "Do you smell smoke?"

"Of course I smell smoke," she muttered, pausing for a minute and leaning against a tree just off the beaten path. "People eat food and boil water."

"Yeah, but there aren't that many people around here and this is a lot of smoke," he added, leaning against the tree next to her. "And someone's cooking for an army if they're generating that much smoke," he said, motioning toward a rising cloud of smoke down the road. Shadowmere's already sick stomach was inundated with the sensation of a thousand angry worms squirming inside.

"That's…not far from the priory…" she said absently, her eyes stinging as the smoke began to descend on her. Without a second thought, she jumped up and began hobbling down the road as fast as she could manage.

"Hey, wait!" Ilend yelped, forcing himself up and chasing after her, though Shadowmere paid him no mind. Using her crutch more as a pole vault than a crutch, she raced down the path, ignoring the pain in her foot and the squirming in her head and stomach.

"Azura I hope that's just an accident in the forge," she wished, knowing how unlikely that particular outcome would be. "Considering an entire town was just razed to get the guy she's traveling with…"

"How are you moving this fast?!" Ilend gasped, struggling to keep up.

"Because I'm not a huge wimp!" she shouted back, swinging the crutch like a boat paddle and pulling herself along behind it.

Though she actually increased her speed, Shadowmere felt as though time had crawled to a stop and each stride was taking her half a step backwards.

"She's going to be fine," she assured herself, her efforts doing nothing to that end. "Saeana survived a long time without me, she's going to be fine." Still, she somehow found the wherewithal to quicken her pace until she approached the smoking buildings of Weynon Priory.

Feeling her stomach churn, Shadowmere tossed the crutch back, a grunt and a "thwack" told her that Ilend had actually caught the walking aid. She didn't have time to be impressed as she felt her feet break into a run as best they could, her gait resembling something of a gallop, the rest of her body barely managing to keep pace.

"What am I even looking for," she wondered, trying to force her mind to calm down and focus on what needed to be done.

Hearing a frightened bleating from the stables, she sat and spun over the fence and charged toward the sound, finding a tiny lamb cowering behind Prior Maborel's paint horse, clearly favoring one front leg over the other.

"Hey little boy," she called softly, recognizing the lamb as the one she had made friends with when she and Saeana had first passed through. "Don't be scared, come on out," she murmured, holding her hands out to him. Apparently recognizing her, the lamb limped toward her slowly, his left front leg lifted uselessly off the ground. As soon as he got close enough, Shadowmere lifted him into her arms, letting him rest his head against her shoulder. "What happened to you?" she asked, expecting no answer as she stroked the shuddering animal.

A growling noise made Shadowmere turn around quickly and she saw Ilend being held at bay by the dog that Shadowmere had originally thought was just another sheep. Stepping in front of Ilend, Shadowmere stared down at the dog, claiming Ilend in the dog's eyes and asserting her dominance over him. If the dog had a problem with Ilend, then she had a problem with Shadowmere. The dog backed down slowly, and it was only then that she saw that the dog's shaggy white fur was now stained red and had been cut away on one side of her face and a bandage now circled her entire head and covered one eye and one ear.

"That's a first," Ilend muttered as the dog hobbled away, favoring her left front paw. "I can honestly say I've never been threatened by a sheep that was dressed as a pirate and had no teeth." Shadowmere looked quickly over at him.

"What do you mean she had no teeth?" she said, ignoring the humor in the fact that the dog did look like a pirate with her eye covered and her head tied with a bandana.

"Just what it sounds like," Ilend said with a shrug. "She was growling at me and all I saw were gums."

"They knocked them out." A new voice on the scene made Shadowmere jerk her head around, seeing an unusually haggard Eronor standing before them. "When the assassins came, Maremma did what she does best and protected the sheep. Even when they hacked her in the face and cut off one of her ears, she was still attacking. They hit her in the nose and dazed her long enough for one of the bastards to hit her in the mouth with a mace. She kept hitting them even then and they broke both of her front legs. She still tried to attack, she was pushing herself on her chest with her back legs, and they hit her in the head and knocked her out."

Shadowmere listened with horror to the ordeals the dog had suffered and with awe at the nobility and loyalty with which she performed her duty.

"Why didn't she die?" she asked quietly, watching the heroic animal as she staggered around the few sheep she could see, all of which were bandaged in some way. "How could anything survive something like that?"

"She wouldn't have," Eronor confirmed, his withered face blushing slightly. "But, call me a softy if you must, I don't think an animal should be disposed of just because it breaks down; especially since she got hurt doing exactly what she had been trained to do," Eronor murmured, shaking his head as he looked at the dog as he would look at a childhood idol. "We had some extra potions, so Brother Pinor and I did what we could to fix her up, but there was no mending her ear or saving her eye. She's about as feisty as she was before, so we stopped giving her potions. The rest of her injuries will heal in time."

"Why keep a useless animal? What use does it have as a guard dog that can barely see, hear or move and can't bite?" Anger swelling in her stomach and dragging down her face, Shadowmere would have leveled Ilend if she hadn't had the little lamb in her arms.

"For one thing, she's a big improvement over having no guard dog," Eronor said firmly, as though he anticipated having to defend his decision. "And she can still tell us when something's out here. We tried to save as many of the sheep as we could, but damn it, those assassins hit anything that moved. Including the little one there, we've only got three left. We can't afford to throw away the one defense we have. Not to mention the place just wouldn't be the same without her."

Feeling a knot moving in her throat, Shadowmere looked at the animals, all huddled together with the exception of the little one in her arms, and consciously fought the welling tears. Maremma had acted so much like Penny; selflessly offering her own life in exchange for those in her charge. She had acted much as Shadowmere had as a mare, though her actions had been more selfish, defending her owners as part of the contract laid down by Hannibal.

Still, in that moment, Shadowmere felt a kinship between the animal she had been and the animals that defended without any thought for themselves. Setting down the lamb she tied a quick knot in the flower chain she had carried around her neck, turning it into a crown, and laid it around Maremma's neck.

"You did good girl," she wanted to say, but didn't dare speak aloud. The dog didn't need her to say it; from the look in her eyes, Shadowmere could see she understood.

"What assassins?" Ilend asked, apparently not moved either by the plight nor the nobility of the animals. Eronor shook his head, still visibly upset by what had happened.

"They came out of nowhere. They were dressed just like travelers and then all of a sudden they conjured armor and weapons and started hacking away at whatever was unfortunate enough to get in their way. Thanks Talos your friend showed up." Shadowmere felt the knot tighten, this time with horror, at the realization that Saeana had been there.

"Saeana was here when that happened?!" she very nearly shrieked. "Is she alright?" Despite her knowledge that her friend was more than capable of taking care of herself, Shadowmere was more than aware of her driving need to protect the last owner she had.

"She's fine," Eronor reassured her, confirming what she already knew. "She climbed up on top of the well and started firing arrows and the man she was with pulled out a dagger. They're the only reason the rest of us survived."

"Is she still here?" she asked, hoping her desperation didn't come out in her voice.

"No, no," Eronor said, shaking his head. "She and her friend and Brother Jauffre left for Cloud Ruler Temple yesterday."

"Where's that?" she asked, subconsciously getting closer to the shepherd, who shook his head and shrugged.

"Can't say," he admitted. "It's the sanctuary of the Blades and unless you're being taken there by one of them, you can't know where it is."

"Then how am I supposed to find her?" Shadowmere could feel her jaw clench and her teeth grit together. Eronor laughed humorlessly.

"You can't," he said plainly. "She'll have to be the one to find you." Shadowmere sighed, feeling as though she couldn't scream loud enough to make anyone hear her frustration and anger.

"Could you get a message to her for me?" she forced out, after a moment of forcing the bile back down in her throat.

"I might be able to do that," the shepherd relented, perhaps sensing her anything but subtle vexation. "Come inside and write it down." Shadowmere nodded and followed Eronor into the building, the smell of wet wood and smoke a near palpable wall as she entered.

"Not to ask a stupid question," she said, realizing she was about to do just that. "But did any paper actually survive the attack?" Eronor chuckled coldly.

"Some, mostly in journals," he said bustling about at a bookshelf until he found what he sought. "Be as brief as you can; it's the ink that really took a beating during the fire." He handed her a quill, a sheet of paper, and a small, smoked over jar of ink.

"Thanks," Shadowmere said, righting a chair and sitting at a round table. She stared at the blank paper, her mind an empty void of thoughts as to what to write. She knew she would never be a scholar, nor did she want to be, but she was kicking herself that she couldn't compose a simple note.

"Screw it," she muttered, dipping the quill in the ink and putting it to the paper.

Saeana,

They won't let me find you, so you'll have to find me. I'll be helping the people of Kvatch rebuild, leave a message for me there if you need me.

~Shadowmere/Naked Lady

"Thanks," she said, waving the paper around to help the ink dry quicker before handing it to Eronor. "I appreciate it."

"Think nothing of it," the shepherd said, holding the paper. "I'm likely going to be on my own to rebuild, so you're welcome to come back any time." Shadowmere furrowed her brow, a disheartened feeling building in her chest.

"No one else survived?" she asked, crossing her arms. "There were a bunch of you when we were here last time."

"Brother Jauffre escorted your friends to Cloud Ruler Temple, Brother Piner went to see his mother for a while and unfortunately Prior Maborel didn't survive the attack." Eronor's face looked somewhat dim at the mention of the Prior. "He was a good man; he fought to his last breath in defense of the Priory." Shadowmere nodded slowly, not sure just how to react. Were she still a horse, she could offer comfort by nuzzling someone with her nose and nickering.

"I am woefully unequipped to offer words of comfort," she said, surprised by her own honesty. "But I know where you're coming from." With a slight grin of amusement at her words, Eronor nodded.

"I…appreciate the sentiment," he said. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Were it not for a well-timed twinge in her broken foot, Shadowmere was ready to leave the priory behind her.

"You don't happen to have any healing potions I could take off your hands do you?" she asked cautiously.

"Actually," the shepherd said, his eyes brightening. "Jauffre keeps a supply chest for travelers like yourselves, I can go and see what there is." The old man dashed up the stairs and Shadowmere could hear him rustling about for a few minutes before thumping back down.

"Last one," he said, proudly holding out the bottle for her. "I suspect your friends cleaned out the chest before heading off on their journey, but they must have missed this one." Shadowmere accepted the bottle with a wistful smile.

"Thank you very much," she said, looking over the bottle and noting a letter "S" and a smiley face drawn on with soot. "That clever bitch," she murmured, knowing Saeana had left it specifically because she knew that Shadowmere would likely hurt herself again. "Still," she considered, thoughts of Menien and his broken hip drifting into her mind. "Others might be better able to use this…"

"As I said," Eronor said, dispersing her thoughts. "Feel free to return at any time; the animals seemed to take a liking to you."

"Yeah," she said with a smile as she shook her head. "Animals have a thing for me," she admitted. "If I find myself in the area I'll drop by."

"Well, we'll look forward to that then," Eronor replied.

She waved briefly and headed back outside to see Ilend leaning against the broken fence. As she closed the door, he looked over at her and headed her way.

"I'm sorry your friend wasn't here," he said, handing her the crutch. "Are you planning on returning with me?" Shadowmere sighed and nodded.

"If she needs me, she knows how to find me now," she said reluctantly, playing with the bottle in her hand as she leaned on the crutch. "But this likely means I'm free to play city guard for a while." Surprisingly, Ilend smiled.

"Good," he said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Captain Matius will be glad." Shadowmere nodded, still contemplating the bottle.

"They had a healing potion," she said, quietly changing the subject to one she was less likely to flip a table at the thought of.

"Awesome," Ilend said, looking genuinely pleased. "Why haven't you taken it?"

"It's…a pretty superficial injury," she said, toying with the cool, smooth surface. "There are others in Kvatch who need help too." Ilend smiled sympathetically.

"Yeah, but not a lot of them would be as much help as you're going to be," he said. "Plus, we'll get back there in better time if you're not crutching along." He nodded to the bottle. "Just take it." She sighed, knowing Ilend was likely correct, but she couldn't shake the impending guilt. Without another word, she popped the cap and swallowed the potion, wiggling her toes as she did. A wave of relief emanating from her toenails and rising through her ankle brought a sigh from her lips.

"Wow…" she said, staring at her foot and watching the swelling dissipate. "I can't believe how much better that feels." Looking up at Ilend, she cautiously put weight on her foot and felt nothing even resembling discomfort.

"Well, that's great," he said, taking the crutch. "We might still find someone who can use this though," he added. Shadowmere nodded and smirked.

"Alright," she said with a unenthusiastic sigh, reclaiming the crutch and holding it behind her shoulders. "I guess we should get moving then."

"Yep," he agreed, motioning her to lead on. "I'm following you, remember?" Shadowmere rolled her eyes.

"Right," she said, reluctantly making her way to the road. "If you can keep up with me," she thought with a small amount of satisfaction, knowing she would give him five minutes and then he was on his own.