As Nallron trudged along the well-worm path towards Dawnstar, a hand firmly on the hilt of his short sword at all times, he made a concerted effort to take in and savour his surroundings. Skyrim was nowhere near as beautiful as the Alinor countryside, where he used to spend many an hour simply walking in the dazzling sunlight of the summer months, but there was a certain charm to its lands once one adjusted to the ever-encapsulating cold.
If he were being completely honest, Nallron was mostly just glad to be away from the Embassy, even for only a short time. Things had been hectic of late. A little too hectic for him. So he had scheduled himself two weeks leave with only minor guilt, intending to find some peace and quiet on the road.Â
His first stop would be Dawnstar, a city he had not yet visited in all his time in Skyrim. He knew little about the place. The only real reason he had for making it his destination for the day was pure curiosity.
As he drew closer to the bridge Nallron spotted the other Altmer, his eyes drawn to her almost immediately. There were very few of his kind in Skyrim, particularly those who were not connected in some way to the Thalmor - something he assumed of the woman from the fact that she looked entirely unfamiliar.Â
The soldier opened his mouth to greet her as he approached, but was beaten to it by her own curious greeting.
ââŠA what?â Nallron came to a stop and furrowed his eyebrows at the stranger. âNo. No, I havenâtâŠâÂ
Pausing to look her up and down once more, his gaze became gradually more wary of her before he finally spoke again. âSo, youâre out here in the middle of nowhere to look at⊠some creature or whatever it was you said? âŠI seeâÂ
Except he didnât see. What appeal was there to wading through very likely icy cold waters to look at some insignificant creature that liked to live there? Nallron shook his head incredulously without even realising.
âItâs a bird. You do a big year, you try and record as many different bird species as possible.â When her feet were dry and relatively warm, she stuffed them back into her wool socks and then into her shoes. She stood and moved over to the other mer.
âIâm Latailwe.â She held out her hand.  âI was hoping there were swallows under the bridge, but I donât think they actually come up this far north. Theyâre little birds that look like flying cigars. I figured I ought to do my big year in skyrim before the war, the actual war, breaks out enforce.â Â
It helped to be overzealous in her cover, she found, so she pulled out a small book filled with pictures of different birds. Several of the birds had dates and locations written by them. In reality those dates and locations corresponded to different sabotage targets, but to anyone, even another birder, it was just a life list.
âSee this?â She pointed to some strange faced bird. âThis is a Chuck-Willâs-Widow. It looks a lot like a whip-poor-will but I spotted one down in the Rift.â