Vera hasn't forgotten Martin. But there are other things at stake, people to help and dragons to slay. Her thoughts go back to the other Dragonborn again and again, always promising herself to go find him. But one thing leads to another, and things just keep getting worse. She runs into Necromancers once a week, a dragon nearly every other day if she's unlucky. She's tired - bone tired, really - but she keeps going. If nothing else, this is her task to complete, as endless as it may seem.

She's stopped in Whiterun for the time being, gathering supplies for another outing alone. Lydia is left to take care of her house as she sets out, wearing armor instead of furs. Her pack is tightly strung across her back and she contemplates paying for a horse this time, if only because it might make her trip shorter. Passing by Rorikstead wouldn't be difficult...

But just outside of the city's gates, by the stables, she nearly runs into him. "Watch where--" She pauses, recognizing that pull once more. "Martin."

She shouldn't sound so annoyed. And yet...