<div class="floatleft">(http://i307.photobucket.com/albums/nn313/NovemberWerewolf/Female%20Characters/Half_Elf_Girl_by_kerembeyit.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Drake<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Reach, just outside of Markarth<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Early evening, dusk.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open, Aelfgar to join in.<br/><br/>The pain in her legs had abated long ago, but the tension in her back and up through her neck and shoulders never seemed to go away. It existed as a hot, tingling sensation that occasionally walked up along her spine and nestled into the occiput, a nagging prickle that demanded Drake to take her hands, press the pads of her fingers into the base of her scalp, and massage along and through her hairline in hopes of relieving herself of this menace. She was eager to get into Markarth and find herself a comfortable room, one with a thick mattress and the luxury of a hot bath. She just hoped that the rumors of this city being cast entirely out of stone didn’t extend to the simple comforts her body needed right now.<br/><br/>A small fire crackled up against the stone that shielded her from the wind; she used collected bits of dry bark from the juniper trees where an elk had scrapped it off with its antlers to act as smokeless fuel, leading the two travelers here, preparing for dinner. The large cat Asher was out of sight, silently stalking the same elk that had left its scent everywhere, and so she took this opportunity to settle in for dinner, before the short trip into the city. Buying food at an inn was likely an easy answer, but the great cat wouldn’t be following her once they were within line-of-sight of the walls for his own protection, and she often felt guilty for leaving him alone for so long. She even started to miss him.<br/><br/>This one last meal was a ritual they shared. She still found it strange that the cat seemed to understand each and every word she said, but was growing far too fond of the large beast to question the will of the gods. The cat eased the ache in her heart that longed for her family, and so she would stall a little longer and eat with him before continuing on into the city, cutting herself a section of fresh meat only to leave the rest for Asher to consume. His appetite was mighty in comparison to hers.<br/><br/>The Reach was a dangerous place; she knew little about the savages who roamed the land, dressed in the furs of the wild, and brandishing crude weapons that were as showy as they were sharp. Their tactics were easy to manage from Drake, yet she couldn’t deny the advantage they help from knowing the terrain of their native land. Where she saw the constant reach of rocky mountain tops and a twisting road before her, they found hiding places and ambush locations, slowing the elf’s progress but failing to stop her. The deeper she went, however, the more they left her alone; even if she caught the occasional sight of a feathery head poking over a rock, judging to see if she was worth their hassle. After stumbling upon the scene of a broken wagon and no supplies or survivors, it became clear to her then that they were far more interested in those who had supplies worth storing. Flour had coated the wooden planks of the tipped wagon, as well as a few stray beans.<br/><br/>Curious.<br/><br/>But they weren’t her problem. Markarth would be a location for the elf to rest, restore and resupply. After that, she had a few days travel until she reached her goal of Whiterun, and if she was lucky, at the end of the week she would be achieving her goals and earn her way into the Companions.<br/><br/>With the luxury of a sigh, Drake reached over to her opposite shoulder and tried again at giving it a rub. Her muscles felt more like the taunt string of her bow rather than living flesh. Perhaps she might indulge in a few more luxuries in the city, should time provide.<br/>