One soul

Using the leather armor and the pile of discarded garments I assembled an outfit that would give me some sense of comfort and protection, but that I hoped wasn't made up of anything distinctive and recognizable.  The last thing I needed was someone declaring a blood feud or calling me out in the street.  It was so difficult to get bloodstains out.

I gathered up as much of the camp food and supplies as I could easily carry and rolled up some of it into the cleanest of the bedrolls.  One of the bandits had apparently decided to keep his part of the loot buried under his bedroll and that added nicely to what I'd already scavenged.  I really wanted to move on but I could see shadows lengthening.  Had I lost myself again, or had that much time really passed already?  I didn't know, but caution and common sense warned me not to be caught out wandering in these unfamiliar woods after dark.  It was safer here, with three beds and three confirmed kills giving me a sense of security.

I slept.

Different lives and different memories warred for my attention.  Childhood in brick overlapped with childhood in trees.  Dreams of falling down stairs end with me hanging out of a tree.  Memories of a fist fights ending in jumbled memories of first loves.  One soul, but two lives.

The next morning started bright and cold.  The snow line was higher than this camp, but not so much that the wet chill didn't settle over you before the sun could rise high.  I gathered up the things I'd claimed and left the camp behind.

I was more careful going down.  Some time in the night I had decided to follow Hadvar down to Riverwood.  I didn't trust him, but I didn't think I still wanted to skin him either.  The brutal fight the day before had cooled some of the anger that I had been feeling.  I'm not sure I liked what that said about me...I didn't think I wanted to be some kind of bloodthirsty killer.

I spent most of the morning picking a path down that wouldn't trip me up the way I had yesterday.  My new leathers were ill-fitting and that didn't help, but I managed to mostly ignore it, except when I was hoping that Riverwood had a seamstress or leatherworker.  By late morning I had encountered some paths and followed them downhill around switchbacks and stone outcroppings.

I was making my way through one of the switchbacks when I heard the voices echo up the path, some angry, some hungry, and none of them comforting.