Her steps devoured the road again. Back along the Orange road, which she’d traveled innumerable times. Her belly was full, her boots comfortable, the urge to shift and run wild minimal. The sun rose before them, urging their traveling party to pull their hoods down over their eyes or bow their head to protect their vision. Sindri’s eyes roamed the road, marking each stone, branch, and dip along her path. 

	The company was quiet. The silence was full of a tension that made Sindri wonder what had been spoken after she’d fled the chapel. When she’d taken the chapel woman’s option of rest and all but fled the too-solid structure, they’d been discussing how to approach Bruma, who would take lead, what cover they would claim. 
	Looking around, she still was not sure of what had been said, but the nord appeared to be taking the mantle of chief, judging by how many times he’d given orders here and there. Sindri was surprised the male Altmer had not elbowed his way into the position of authority, but suppose the fact that he was here on this particular mission spoke volumes about his taste for control. 
The other altmer, the female, didn’t puzzle the witch as much. 
	Though, quite a few were looking toward the large khajiit, but that was no surprise. Something that large and needed to be watched, and that he’d joined their group in chains didn’t help his reputation. 
	And the lizard who was too clearly indoctrinated was absent. Fired? Stormed out? Sindri didn’t bother asking.

	The summer breeze blew and Sindri’s head tilted back, her eyes closing as the warmth brushed her cheeks like an old friend. The aroma of seasonal vibrant flowers, the healthy trees, the distant scent of petrichor sent the witch miles away for a few footsteps. To when she was small and chasing foxes and catching grasshoppers. Wading in the streams to the west of these lands and wondering why she had to wait until the fish was cooked before she could devour it and fill her complaining belly. 

	Then there was a different scent. 
	Sweat. Steel. Ale. Sulfur. Faint, the wind had shifted in another direction, but it had been enough for Sindri. 
	Her eyes opened and she swept an icy glance across the hills before she landed on the khajiit. Judging by his bored expression -if Sindri could identify what boredom looked like on a khajiit’s countenance- he hadn’t noticed. 
	Or he wasn’t bothered by it. Too many here smelled of sweat and steel. Magicka and paper, too. Scholars; too many of them. 
Still, it didn’t sit well with the Reachwoman, and Sindri veered to her left, stepping off the path swooping to pick up a flower along her way. If they [i]were[/i] being watched, perhaps she would appear as a woman gathering supplies. Perhaps she was off to relieve herself. 
	Nearly immediately after, the songbirds went silent, both sending a brush of relief down Sindri’s nape that she had not lost her mind, and a brush of anticipation. 

	Things were about to get interesting. 

	Whistles tickled her ear, and Sindri quickly hopped behind a tree as arrows thudded into the soil. Peering over her shoulder, she did a quick count of how many of the militia were still standing and had taken defensive positions, then Sindri whirled around and moved swiftly across the uneven terrain.
	Her ears picked up conversation as she stalked; a scholar’s squabble. So, perhaps things were getting interesting, but not quite as interesting as they could. The ambushing group was clearly new at this. They should have attacked earlier and used the sun against the militia. 
	Sindri rolled her eyes at herself, wondering whose side she was on as she bent and half-crawled up the last of a hill. 

	An archer knelt on the hill. He did look very Nordic. A bandit brute. So, maybe they weren’t all scholars afterall. Her eyes swept his posture; one knee planted on the ground, the other heel firm and toes pointed toward his target; her new cadre. 
	So be it.
	Summoning her magic, roots rose swiftly from the ground and coiled around the calves of the thug, then squeezed tight. Alarmed, the bandit lowered his bow as he glanced down. He wobbled. His head snapped up as  Sindri moved in the man’s peripherals and grinned wickedly. He paled. Sindri flicked her wrist and the man dropped heavily to the ground before he could scream, her sleeping spell taking effect swiftly. 
	Her roots released him and sunk back into the ground as she slunk toward her next victim.