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"Up!" Malatar replied in his booming voice. "You must hold on to my shoulders as tightly as you can!"

Irri looked at the Khajiit for several long seconds. "You insult me. Killing and murder are not the same thing. I would rather die than betray a friend."

Sebastien took a long sip of his drink, eyeing the Dunmer carefully. Given the day's events he decided there could be no harm in small talk, and what Breton wasn't schooled in at least one of the proper schools? "One might say that," he said, as his tankard clinked against the tabletop. "I am hardly an established mage, but I know my arts well enough. And that must make you a particularly keen lady, if I am not mistaken?"

At this point, it really seemed like he was asking for it. With a completely undignified whoop, Selara leaned all the way forward, flinging her arms as far around the neck of Malatar's altered form as she could. Exercising muscles out of practice from the long hibernation, she held on with her legs too, clinging to the majestic lion like a burr. "Up where?" she called back. For the moment, at least, the sorrow seemed a bit less immediate, and she let the rush of their wild flight take over her emotion.

"what do you do for work dunmer?"

Without a reply, Malatar leapt into towards a massive pine tree. In mid-air, he transformed back into his human form. It was amazing. Every weapon and article of clothing just reappeared with his transformation.

With Selara clinging to his back, he began climbing the tree with unnatural ease. "Do not...let go!" he hollered as he climbed. "It is safer in the trees than it is on the ground!"

"Kah'jihreed asked a question, but accused you of nothing," the Khajiit said deprecatingly. "Irriwen should...no, Kah'jihreed's words sting, it seems. Let us speak no more, for a while." With these words the Khajiit quickened his pace and passed the Bosmer. The inn was only a few steps away.

Ormis sat in the corner of the room. His Ebony sword lay in front of him on the table, with a mug of his favorite mead. He pulled a cloth out and started to scrub his sword to get any dirt or dust off of it. He took a sip of the mead, letting the sweet liquid spread on his tongue. He picked the sword up, and brandished it. Ormis put his left hand in the air, and started to cast a healing spell on himself, to practice. He was terribly bored, and wished that his friends from home were with him to enjoy the moment. He accidentely knocked the mead off the table, and cursed aloud.

Irriwen followed the Khajiit into the inn.

The inn was far too full and noisy for Kah'jihreed's liking. He sneered slightly and pricked up his ears; and kept his hand close to his dagger. Taking care to touch no one, he made his way to the bar.
After exchanging a few low spoken words with the innkeeper, and a few quick hand movements, he returned to Irriwen, holding two bottles of Mead and his odd, feline grin.
"It is a better place than Kah'jihreed thought intially," he said happily.

"True," Selara mused. "People don't tend to think about what's above them." For a moment, she concentrated on clinging close, shifting her slight weight to be as small of a nuisance as possible. "Malatar," she said slowly. "What do we do from here? We can't just run blindly and hope to stay one step ahead of whatever's decided that our people shouldn't walk this earth once more. We don't know who or what wants us dead. It can't be everyone. Well, probably. The Thalmor did end up agreeing to our terms..." The words trailed off. That line of thought was moving too close to things she didn't want to deal with at the moment. "We need more information."

Ormis quickly cleaned up the small mess below him. He continued to practice his healing spells, the bright gold color filling the corner of the inn. He moved up closer to the entrance. He continued to practice his restoration.

Irri took one of the bottles wordlessly. All it a sudden, she smiled. "If nothing else, the Nords can certainly make good spirits." She said, popping the cork out and taking a sip.

Malatar was exhausted. Between climbing the tree at such a pace, plus the weight of a human being on his back, his energy levels were running extremely low.

When they finally reached the top of the tree, Malatar set Selara on the thickest branch he could spot. He knelt down upon the branch directly above her, scouting the nearby region. The tree was gigantic. "Right now...running is our only option."

"Nords?" Kah'jihreed asked and laughed. "The best spirit is given to us by Sheggorath, in the form of crystals," he said and smiled. "This inn, it is blessed by the madcat, for it offers the sweetest of spirits!"

Irri took a drink. "Cheers!"

The Khajiit paid no attention to Irriwen. He put two his fingers into his pocket and proceeded to sprinkle what seemed to be white dust into the bottle's neck, purring lowly. After a few seconds he took a big sip and stood in place, eyes closed, while a blissful smile slowly made its way onto his face.

Irri watched knowingly. "Topal Skim. Secunda's tears. Masser's mix. Sugar of the moons, if I am not mistaken."

"Correct. Though not the sweetest, it is sweet, sweet moon sugar," the Khajiit said happily.

Manatar and Selara's awe of being in the tree was cut short when a commanding voice seemed to appear behind them. "Stop right there!" It ordered. Turning, the Ayleids saw several Thalmor in their traditional robes and armor.

The one who ordered them to stop was a tall, confident Altmer with blonde hair tumbling out from beneath his black hood. "I am Commander Aradusk of the Aldmeri Dominion in Northern Valenwood. You're coming with us right now, Ayleids."

Irri watched her new friend. While most people would avert their gaze, she looked constantly and solidly into his eyes. She shrugged. "Enjoy." She said shortly, taking a large swig of the mead.

"It is sad that the sweet sugar is dangerous to non-Khajiiti," Kah'jihreed said suddenly.

"It is." Irri agreed. "I was in Senchal, once. No unhappy people in Senchal. Not with sugar."