Arsha woke and made her way downstairs. The innkeeper looked up at her in surprise. "I wasn't sure you'd ever wake up," she said with a slight chuckle.

"What time is it?" Arsha asked in alarm.

"It's around midnight. You've been asleep for almost 24 hours." The innkeeper replied.

'Oh well.' Arsha thought with a sigh. She worked better at night anyway. After a moment she said, "I'm looking for work. Do you have any bounties available?"

"Some of the Jarl's men came by and dropped this off while you were sleeping. It's a bounty on some bandits at Embershard Mine," the woman replied, handing Arsha a bounty letter with the details.

"I'll take it, thank you," Arsha said as she took the bounty and headed for the door.

"You're not leaving now are you?" the innkeeper asked, surprised.

"The bandits are most active at night. I can't let them claim more victims just because I can't bother to go out in the dark," Arsha responded in what she hoped was a heroic tone. In truth she just needed something to do, and if that included decapitating bandits all the better.

Arsha reached the gates and strode through them purposefully. Instead of stopping her, the guards just moved out of the way. Once she was a good distance away from the city walls she summoned her undead horse, Arvak. Before long, she was riding up the path that led to the mine. She had cleared it out many years ago when she had still borne the title of Dragonborn with pride back when criminals were the only ones who had had reason to fear her name. Now, a new batch of bandits would get to feel her wrath.

She snuck up on the bandit who stood watch and quietly slit his throat. She was inside the mine before the man had a chance to fall. Silent as a shadow she snuck through the mine ending the lives of every bandit she met. In a flash, she was in the final chamber standing over the corpse of the bandit chief. There was an arrow in the orc's skull and two stab marks in his back.

Arsha wiped the blood off of her blades and sighed with content as she surveyed the destruction she had caused. She always had been good at eliminating bandits quickly. Her pride soon dimmed as she remembered the problem that loomed over her. In two more days, she would have to leave and start making her way toward Riften. Brynjolf should arrive today, and if she went moderately fast she could arrive a day before her self-induced one-week deadline. That way she could get a good feel of the mood in the city before she returned to the Guild. Hopefully, Brynjolf would think of a better lie to tell than the one Arsha had dreamt up.

After she had returned to Whiterun, she received the bounty reward from the steward. The next two days passed in a blur. Between stocking up on potions, improving her weapons, and training at the Companions' hall she kept quite busy.

When the sun finally dawned on the day she had to leave, it was raining. 'Great.' she thought bitterly to herself. 'Just great.' It was with an air of great reluctance that Arsha stepped through the gates of Whiterun and started her journey. She hoped to make it all the way to Ivarstead before midnight, but this rain might slow her down. With a sigh, she adjusted her quiver and began to walk. Once she was out of sight of all of the local farms she summoned Arvak and hopped in the saddle. Before too long, the rain cleared up and the sun shone through the clouds.

As she neared the Ritual stone an orc dressed in Whiterun guard's armor called for her to stop. "Halt, in the name of the Jarl!" he said in a gruff, unpleasant tone. "All who pass this way are subject to a tax for the right of travel."

"I was never made aware of this tax as I left the city, guardsman. I hope you are not attempting to con me. That would be a very bad idea." Arsha replied fixing the "guard" with a piercing stare.

The phony guard only guffawed. "I ain't afraid of you, lady. Now give me your coin!" he ordered, laying a hand on his giant ax menacingly.

'Your loss.' Arsha thought as she quickly slung out her bow and fit an arrow to the string. She took careful aim and planted the glass arrow in the orc's left eye socket before the man had time to react. He fell with a startled roar. Out from behind a nearby rock jumped the now dead orc's companions. Three of them fell quickly to her rapid fire of arrows and her horse, Arvak, took down the last one with a crash of his hoof against the bandit's helm.

The rest of the way to Ivarstead was relatively uneventful. Arsha eliminated a few wolves and a bear or two, but other than that her ride went swiftly, and she arrived at the small village around eleven o'clock. At Vilemyr Inn she rented a room and swiftly fell asleep.

Her dreams that night made up for the peace she had felt during the day. Over and over those days that had happened so long ago replayed in her mind. Except instead of the young Brynjolf it was the present day one that Arsha tortured.

She summoned the icy whips which tore at the nord as he nimbly tried to dance toward her. Only after he was cut and bleeding in almost a dozen places did she call them off. Then she shouted.

Faaz. A shout she rarely used unless she was aiming to kill. Brynjolf withstood the shout in all its terrible power. Arsha bent to check his pulse and he looked up at her hatred and the hurt of betrayal blazing in his emerald eyes.

Arsha awoke sweating and shivering. Thoughts of turning back and fleeing ran circles around her mind. The image of Brynjolf's eyes brimming with hatred for her stared at her every time she closed her eyes; if she returned, he could find out who she was eventually, and those hate-filled eyes could become a reality. Still, she got up, grabbed her weapons, and walked out the door anyway.

Dread filled her mind as she walked toward Riften. The air felt heavy and oppressive as if nature itself was condemning her. She wanted nothing more than to run far away from Riften and its resident thieves and yet she walked on because she knew she deserved any and every punishment Brynjolf and the others would give her should they discover her true identity.

On and on she walked without stopping, never slowing or speeding her pace. Dusk began to fall and Arsha knew that she should hurry and try to get to the city as soon as possible, but her feet refused to listen.

When she was about two hour's walk from Riften her body suddenly grew weak. Pain shot through her stomach and with a start Arsha realized that she hadn't eaten or drank anything since she had left Whiterun. She stumbled over to a nearby stream and knelt beside it to drink. As she leaned down to taste the water her stomach ached in pain again. Arsha pulled her traveling sack off her back, which was under both her quiver and bow so those came off too, and grabbed the canteen at her side which meant she had to take off her daggers as well.

She scooped some water into her flask and took a long drink, savoring the feel of the sweet coldness rushing down her aching throat. She turned to the side to grab an apple out of her sack, but the sack wasn't there. And neither were her weapons.

Arsha leaped up, and the sound of a menacing laugh made her blood run cold. She turned to see a group of no less than fifteen armed bandits leering at her. She reached for her daggers, but, of course, they weren't at her side. An evil-looking Altmer stepped from the crowd and dangled them tauntingly in front of her.

"What have we here, boys? A poor, defenseless woman?" the Altmer asked with a sneer. "Grab her and we'll show her the hospitality of our home."

Two big nords moved to grab her, but Arsha wasn't about to go willingly. She ran towards the one on the left and kicked him hard in his knee. The giant man fell to his knees and Arsha jabbed three of her fingers into his throat and before kicking him in the head for good measure. The second one came at her with his greatsword out. She tripped him and he crashed into his friend and impaled himself. A third nord came running at her and she backed up into a tree. Her inner dragon which had slumber so long was awakening and when the bandit was just about to reach her, Arsha shouted.

"Faaz Aus Vaarn!" the shout ripped at her throat and hit the bandit in full force. The nord screamed as he fell, the sound one of pure agony. One glance told Arsha that he wouldn't be rising again. Looking at the fallen man Arsha's will to fight drained out of her. She slumped down the tree and didn't resist as the Altmer bound her and hit her hard on the head. Before she blacked out she couldn't help but think that she might finally be getting the justice she deserved. 

A/N Funny story about the shout that I used. A few years ago (when I was still writing this but didn't have the courage to post it) I read a story, can't remember the name, that used this exact shout. I thought it was hilarious because I had already decided that I was going to use those three words to make a shout, and somebody else thought it was a good idea too! So, just thought I'd say that I'm not stealing anyone's idea here and great minds think alike!