She swallowed, sweat beading on her brow as she gritted her teeth hard enough to crack them. Her eyes were screwed shut and the most she could breathe were tiny sniffles in and whimpering breaths out. She couldn't move, pinned to the wall. His hot breath felt like death on her cheek and no matter how hard she struggled, all she managed to make him do was swear under his breath. The other man's groping hands snaked up towards her jaw and the mere feeling of his skin on hers made her feel sick. She recoiled and felt her lip quiver and she was ashamed for it. Such weakness, such helplessness, it was all she could do to keep from sobbing.

“It'll all be over quick, you stubborn bitch.” One of them growled.

She felt his hand jerk back and then forward as something inside her face scraped together and popped back into place like a shoulder back in its socket. She reeled back and brought her forehead down to crunch the man's nose back into his dirty pig-face but found his mouth instead. Either way, he let her go, stumbling back and swearing. What he said was lost in the dribbling mess of red she'd made of his face. She surged forward, ready to dig her thumbs into his eyes but her arm was grabbed and the hand yanked her back with such force that she fell onto her arse. She felt it in her throbbing jaw and saw a black shape stepping towards her. Her foot lashed out and found his knee, cracking it backwards as he fell to the side, screaming.

“Gods damnit! You want a thing done, you'd better be ready to do it your damned self!” Their leader spat furiously.

“Why don't you! Save me the trouble of coming to you, you bloated pig.” She said, her wolf's grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as she wiped a stream of blood from her cut forehead, most likely cut on one of that bastard's rotten teeth when she headbutted him. A menacing low growl of a laugh escaped her as she put her back to the wall, using it to help her up and make sure they couldn't get behind her. The process was less graceful than she hoped, but she had low expectations for herself, given her condition. The only things she felt were fear, anger and pain. She had to wonder where her father was, that old fat arse off trundling along somewhere. Not even that foolish fucking rug, Do'Karth was here. She spat, she didn't need them for this. "Get the hells on with it!"

“Oh, I'm sick of you. You'll find I'm made of different stuff than these.” He waved his hand at his lackeys.

“We're all made of the same meat.” She reached behind her and yanked out a knife from its sheath. “But if you're so set on showing me your insides, come and have a go, little lad.”

“I'm tired of you calling me that too, you stringy whore.” He said.

They circled each other like two wolves. The hooded man was frowning hard, squinting at her with one eye swollen shut. She'd given him that some time ago. She made to spring off her back leg for a thrust, but her knee gave out on her and she ended up squealing as her forward foot slipped. He took his moment and came forward, knocking her back against the wall. He'd pinned her arm against the wall but she managed to bring her thigh smashing into his fruits. He gave a breathless grunt and all the strength left him. She cocked her arm back and put all her strength into a blow to his gut. He doubled over and fell on his side, spitting bile. She stood over the trio, breathing hard, her knife still gripped in her white-knuckled hand.

“Mah theeth.” One slurred, but it took her a second to piece together that he was whimpering about his teeth, on account of his missing front ones and all the blood from a bit tongue, most likely.

She gave her grin again, knowing all too well how much that must hurt. But hers was worse. “Pick through your blood for them.”

She gave a bitter laugh and replaced her knife in its sheath. She turned around to see Cleftjaw standing behind her with his mouth agape. The look on his face made her want to punch it. “What, halfhead?”

“I hire three fucking people to watch after you while your father and his cat friend are gone and you near kill the bastards?” He said, “What did they do?”

“Touched me, gawked at me while I slept.” She growled. “You hire three leering pigs to slobber at me while I'm weak. I'll tell my father how trustworthy you are over your fucking grave, you bent-face prick!”

“We were checking her pulse and her temperature! Orvi set her jaw in place but we had to chase the bitch!” The man whose fruits she acquainted his stomach earlier cried.

“They're healers, Solveig, you dagger-eyed bitch. They're supposed to touch you.” He looked over her shoulder at the three men on the ground, “I trust you never [i]touched[/i] her.”

“Rabid street curs don't strike my fucking fancy, you understand.” The head of the trio spat while he gave her a killing look.

She turned around and the edge of her knife glinted as it came from her sheath. Cleftjaw put a hand on her shoulder but she jerked away from it. “Let's just go. Save you from becoming a murderer.”

“I didn't know they branded you a murderer for [i]slaughtering pigs.[/i]” She spat, wide-eyed and near shaking with anger.

“Come now, come on.” Cleftjaw coaxed as he gently led her away. She slid her knife back in its sheath on her own as she worked to calm herself. It took all of her strength not to turn right back around the second Cleftjaw's hands left her shoulders. Now that the battle lust was wearing down, she felt light. Black started creeping around the corners of her vision and she whimpered, her legs beginning to buckle. She stumbled left into Cleftjaw and he caught her. They resumed their walking with Solveig throwing an arm around Cleftjaw's shoulders while he supported her. “Can't say I've been this close to a woman in a while.” He chuckled nervously.

“You've a girl waiting for you anywhere?” She asked him while he pushed open the door and they stepped out into the streets.

“No.” He said, “Father... he's gone. Mother's... gone. My brother was a shit.”

“No family?” She raised a brow at that, “Odd thing. But no girl?”

“None.” He shook his head. She looked at him sidelong, trying not to make it obvious. She guessed he was pleasing enough. A real nord, with real scars. “You've a man?”

“No.” She thought back to her mentor. Well, being honest, mentor was a rough word for it, given what he was paid with. But he was a good man. Or just better than most she knew, anyway. “I don't.”

Cleftjaw cleared his throat and a cheeky smile flashed across his face, the kind she wanted to smack off his lips. “You know, I was the one who carried you away from danger.”

“How long's it been for you, little lad? You're what, has to be more than twenty summers behind you, don't tell me I'm the first you've gone after.” She said, no sign of humor.

“I've had a few. And it has been a while.” He muttered.

“No doubt if you're trying your luck with me.” She said, more than a bit bitter.

“You don't look bad. Your face has healed well.” He said. “Has to have been a while for you. You seem the type to punch men rather than make love to them.”

She turned away from him, feeling the heat on her face already. Truth be told, it was a while since she was this close to a man. Well, given what happened a few moments ago, it'd been a while since she was this close to a man and enjoyed it. Or at least didn't hate it. “You want to fuck me?”

He coughed and stuttered, “W-well, I mean, I know your father. It wouldn't be a good thing for me to do that without his permission, he'd want us to marry, or at least have plans to, otherwise he'd-”

“Do what?” She asked. “He's my father but I'm a woman, not a girl anymore.” She frowned, looking down at the cobblestone streets. They'd stopped walking.

“But if he finds out-”

“I think I found out you're a milk-drinking coward.” She said, a smug grin across her face.

He pushed her up against the wall next to an alleyway. “Still think I'm a coward?”

“Yes.” She smiled. The sound of glass breaking was such a fitting thing to punctuate how well it shattered the moment. “What in Oblivion was that?”

“Who fucking cares?” Cleftjaw said, but she pushed him away and tugged out her knife. He held his hands up, “Gods, fine!”

“Quiet, fool! Listen.” And the sound of a group whooping and hollering was heard. They followed after the sound, slinking through the alleyway, and came upon a group of young Dunmer breaking down a door.

“We'll take what we're owed!” One of them said, and he turned to the old man on the ground, spit dribbling from his lips. “Still a worthless knife-ear, old n'wah?”

“Vaeren! We've got watchers.” At that, the group turned at once. Six against two. Shit odds. Then she heard the slapping footsteps of someone running. Rounding the corner, she saw another Dunmer, but this one held a certain familiarity about him. She couldn't remember where they'd met, but he knew his face, or his lack of an arm, more like. A young Imperial was running just at his heels with a look of blind fear and on his heels was a horde of those dock lizards. At that, Cleftjaw took off nearly sprinting with her in tow after the old Dunmer with the one arm.