Autumn Leaves and Quiet Days

4E 201 | Mid Hearthfire | Day 6 in Skyrim

The clearing behind Dead Man's Drink became Tsukihana's measure of recovery.

At dawn she drew the katana slowly and repeated the foundations of Getsumeiryū. One cut. Return. Step. Turn. Breathe. The body protested; the blade did not.

By the third morning, Inigo sat on the fence watching.

"How long have you been there?" she asked.

"Time loses meaning in the presence of art."

"That long?"

"Long enough to observe that you wobble less."

She resumed the form.

"Before, you resembled a drunk chicken."

The blade stopped near his whiskers.

Inigo smiled. "A very dangerous drunk chicken."

Tsukihana explored Falkreath between training sessions. Lod the blacksmith examined her katana with reverence and offered enough gold to insult both of them. Solaf at Gray Pine Goods attempted to sell her climbing rope, a cracked silver cup, three books, and a decorative goat skull. She escaped with tea leaves and a better map.

At the graveyard, a child asked whether she was a warrior.

"Sometimes," Tsukihana said.

The girl pointed at the sword. "It looks beautiful."

Tsukihana had heard the blade called deadly, foreign, valuable, and strange. Beautiful landed differently.

"Thank you."

That evening she found a new notice outside the inn: a bounty on a bandit chief occupying a nearby mine. Beneath it, in smaller writing, was a warning that several workers had vanished.

Simple work, she thought.

Skyrim had already begun teaching her not to trust that phrase.