My son, her words sound in his ears, the way she had spoken as she eyed him as if he were nothing more than a bastard in her eyes, which she was not far off in naming him so. He was the outsider looking in on his family, watching from afar but not once crossing over the line he had unknowingly put between himself and his woman. Fiero thought he was doing his best, that he was doing the right thing but clearly he had not and now there was an even bigger rift between him and Switch. He is almost tempted to tell his father to fudge off with this stupid task of going to the peak; anything to avoid the smug bastard Khajiit, but it had to be done.

It pained him to go, to leave things as they were but in the end the lagoon was his family and he’d be a fool to not heade his father’s call. It took a bit to round up his companion for the trip and before long the pair had set out for the peak. He ranted and raved, muttering under his breath about women and their emotions, and no matter how much Khajiit poked and prodded at him he couldn’t break himself out of it. Fiero was heated, so much so that he missed the departure of his much paler counterpart as the male had slipped away to go investigate something or other.

“I did what was right,” Fiero nods to himself, marching on with purpose through the last remnants of the thick brush to find himself at the stream that flowed down from the mountains themself. Here is where he finally stops, and at last rests his aching throat to look and see why Khajiit had yet to answer him on everything that had been spoken thus far. Maybe he had at last outspoken the curly eared stallion who wasn’t able to get a word in edgewise with the way Fiero was going. Unfortunately for the dunalino, his tag along was no longer tagging along as he should have. “Stupid freaking men,” he huffs, the insult both for Khajiit and himself when he notices this. All those words, spoken into the empty air.

Fiero trudges to the side of the stream, lowering his face to take a quick drink when the flash of white out of his peripheral vision has him raising it back up to watch a lone spotted figure slipping into the pool of water herself for a quick swim. He is wary, being so close now to the peak, and the last thing he’d ever want to do is upset Bozena by prodding at her women. Curiosity surely would kill the cat when his will power takes him in the mare’s direction instead of the path that would lead him further up the mountain.

He announces his arrival by kicking away at some loose pebbles that scatter away from him and land in the water, deciding that surprising her would do him no good in the hopes of learning her name. “Chilly day for a swim,” he remarks, eyes appraising her round splotches of color that had become even more prominent from her quick dip in the water. Fiero moves his golden gaze from her after a second, feigning indifference as to whether or not she'd give him the time of day, to look up the rocky path he was originally here for.

His lip’s curl into a ghost of a smile, “I didn’t think you peak ladies ever came down from your mountain.”