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Living isn’t just surviving.\nA fix-fic.","count":"2","submission_left_submission_id":"1521529","submission_left_file_name":"2923417_Tumelo_the_red_lynx_-_chapter_00_prologue.doc","submission_left_thumbnail_url_huge":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/2923/2923417_Tumelo_the_red_lynx_-_chapter_00_prologue.jpg","submission_left_thumbnail_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/2923/2923417_Tumelo_the_red_lynx_-_chapter_00_prologue.jpg","submission_left_thumbnail_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/2923/2923417_Tumelo_the_red_lynx_-_chapter_00_prologue.jpg","submission_left_thumb_huge_x":"300","submission_left_thumb_huge_y":"221","submission_left_thumb_large_x":"200","submission_left_thumb_large_y":"148","submission_left_thumb_medium_x":"120","submission_left_thumb_medium_y":"89"}],"description":"The story is still better read in the document itself than on InkBunny. I am not bothering with the format on the site. Just download the file, please. And, on that note, I won’t post these to Google Docs unless I start getting requests for it. I did initially for people who can’t open doc files, or who just want to click instead of downloading. As is, I don’t think it’s necessary.\n\nI know it’s been almost two years since the Prologue, but I assure you the story hadn’t left my mind. I’ve been working on drafts and tweaks of this first chapter for the entire time. The doc itself has roughly 200 hours of editing time. First I decided to scrap the first person narrative because I found it too constricting for this kind of story. So I had to rewrite almost everything. Secondly, I was plainly unhappy with this chapter and it took several rewrites. I stuck to it, though. The prologue was the first story I had been very happy about in a long time, and my vision of writing Skyrim’s quests and storylines like an actual story that isn't filler is still a very strong desire. It’s just that this chapter felt very halting after such a strong opening, and I had to rethink how to approach it, how and where to end it, and a myriad of other things. I cut roughly ten pages of material before I even started to edit the first person narrative framework.\n\nIt’s been finished since October, but I also sat on it because it needed some proof reading. It still does. So I apologise if this chapter comes across a little rough. But I really wanted to put this out before 2020.\n\nI’ve also been working on notes and documents regarding how to write certain quests and stories in the game from this character’s perspective. It led me to actually do another playthrough with the character, this time taking [i]extensive[/i] notes while playing. It helped refresh my interest and solidify ideas.\n\nI don’t know when Chapter 2 will be finished, but I’m already ten or so pages into its initial draft. I plan on at least getting some of the next chapter finished before I publish the current one. That way I’ll have something on the page and something new posted to keep the sense of creative flow going.\n\nAs a note, I'm tagging all entries of the story as mature because of the overall tone. Just like how all entries have the 'fantasy horror' tag when the horror elements haven't kicked in just yet.","description_bbcode_parsed":"The story is still better read in the document itself than on InkBunny. I am not bothering with the format on the site. Just download the file, please. And, on that note, I won’t post these to Google Docs unless I start getting requests for it. I did initially for people who can’t open doc files, or who just want to click instead of downloading. As is, I don’t think it’s necessary.

I know it’s been almost two years since the Prologue, but I assure you the story hadn’t left my mind. I’ve been working on drafts and tweaks of this first chapter for the entire time. The doc itself has roughly 200 hours of editing time. First I decided to scrap the first person narrative because I found it too constricting for this kind of story. So I had to rewrite almost everything. Secondly, I was plainly unhappy with this chapter and it took several rewrites. I stuck to it, though. The prologue was the first story I had been very happy about in a long time, and my vision of writing Skyrim’s quests and storylines like an actual story that isn't filler is still a very strong desire. It’s just that this chapter felt very halting after such a strong opening, and I had to rethink how to approach it, how and where to end it, and a myriad of other things. I cut roughly ten pages of material before I even started to edit the first person narrative framework.

It’s been finished since October, but I also sat on it because it needed some proof reading. It still does. So I apologise if this chapter comes across a little rough. But I really wanted to put this out before 2020.

I’ve also been working on notes and documents regarding how to write certain quests and stories in the game from this character’s perspective. It led me to actually do another playthrough with the character, this time taking extensive notes while playing. It helped refresh my interest and solidify ideas.

I don’t know when Chapter 2 will be finished, but I’m already ten or so pages into its initial draft. I plan on at least getting some of the next chapter finished before I publish the current one. That way I’ll have something on the page and something new posted to keep the sense of creative flow going.

As a note, I'm tagging all entries of the story as mature because of the overall tone. Just like how all entries have the 'fantasy horror' tag when the horror elements haven't kicked in just yet.","writing":"The Red Lynx\n\nChapter One\n\nAhziss Zaigoh\n\nThe sun had yet to rise but the stars above twinkled dimly as the sky slowly began to lighten, turning from black to a deep, soporific blue. Even in the darkest hours of the early morning the Sea of Ghosts was hauntingly silver. Whatever light made its way onto the waters filtered through the snow clouds, even on clearer mornings like this one, giving the beach a forlorn, saturnine look. It was long before sunrise when the boy and his had uncle risen, fishing nets and bucket in tow, for the dark-shingled beach near their home. It was cold tedious work, throwing the net and pulling it back in, but the coast was rich with salmon. And early morning, his uncle said, was always the best time for fishing.\n\nForesetti groaned as he worked to haul the net out from the water. He was by no means weak, but fighting a net full of panicking writhing fish wasn't the easiest thing to pull out of the water. It wasn't until five minutes had passed that his uncle, stood up, grunting, and came to assist, grumbling all the while. It was a good haul, he had known, as together they pulled and pulled the net. With the older Nord's help Foresetti managed to pull the net out from the waves and together they dragged the fish onto land.\n\n``First catch looks good!'' the Nord boy said. In the net lay a squirming, flopping mass of salmon. Foresetti looked to his uncle, grinning.\n\n``Aye, told you it'd be best early, didn't I?'' Alsfgrund said.\n\n``I got up,'' Foresetti replied with a faint grin.\n\n``Only after getting a mug of water in the face. I damn near pulled my back pulling that, you know,'' he added sternly. That wiped the grin from Foresetti's face. ``I can't keep fishing like this alone, boy. How long were you up last night reading that book from that elf?''\n\nDeciding it was best not to answer, Foresetti cast his gaze down onto the writhing mass of fish. They stunk just like the salty sea breeze that billowed through the coast. Wrinkling his nose, he knelt down and grabbed the net's rope and began tugging the catch more inland, towards the basket. His uncle had a point, though. The entire night, Foresetti had been preoccupied with a used spell tome he had acquired from an Altmer living in the Frozen Hearth Inn. Though well beyond him, the theory had fascinated Foresetti, and he had stayed up far too late reading the tome and trying to comprehend it, knowing full well that they had planned to go fishing in only a matter of hours. His heart sank slightly with guilt as he listened to Alsfgrund's complaints.\n\n ``Winterhold barely makes it by on its own,'' he was saying. ``What with the farms frozen and the war preoccupying everyone's minds and that College eating up more than the Jarl's Longhouse. The best we can do is fish,'' he continued as he started opening the basket. ``If we can't keep up, especially in this season, we'll have to start begging out in the cold.''\n\n``If you'd let me go down to Windhelm to learn at the School of Jhunal there, I might be able to make us some money,'' Foresetti replied as he began loading the fish into the basket with his uncle.\n\n``I can't lose you, boy. I need you up here, with me,'' Alsfgrund said gruffly.\n\n The old man groaned and sat down, a grimace on his face. Evidently in pain from both pulling their haul and loading the basket, it was just one more thing on top of the long walk down to the frigid beach. It was with care then, that Foresetti approached his uncle and placed his hand on his back, the way he had so many times before. Alsfgrund sighed contently as the dark-shingled beach, so dim in the sleepy early morning hours, was momentarily alight in faint golden warmth that flowed from Foresetti's hands. It was a soothed, relieved sound that bade the irritableness away. For a time.\n\nIn truth, Foresetti never really knew just how he could perform the magic he did. It came upon him like an instinct. In the same way looking at a well prepared meal made one's stomach growl, or even the same way one might flinch if a fly came too close to your face. He just had this capability, and the ability to exert it while his uncle didn't. And though he had never been allowed to visit the College, he was allowed to buy a used spell tome from time to time.\n\n``Want me to relight the fire?'' Foresetti asked once his uncle's pain had been satisfactorily eased.\n\nAlsfgrund's fishing spot was old, and a shelter had been established years ago. The small wood fire they had made sat smoking next to it. Foresetti raised his hand and, mentally flexing, conjured the dormant flames of a spell with which to rekindle the fire.\n\n``No,'' his uncle replied. ``I'm alright now. Light it again and the wood will turn to ashes. Best wait until we need a proper rest.''\n\n``Or if it gets too cold,'' Foresetti added.\n\n``Aye,'' Alsfgrund chuckled.\n\nThe pair of them began loading their basket with salmon. Their net was by no means the massive kind you see swaths of Nord fishermen brandish through the entire breadth of rivers, but it was big enough to catch several pounds at a time, should their attempts prove fruitful. And they did this morning. The basket had enough room for a few more hauls, and that was good. He only hoped they could lift it and take it back to town when it was full.\n\nThe sun still hadn't managed to rise as both Alsfgrund and Foresetti pulled their fifth mass of salmon out from the water. The sky was still dark, but it was beginning to look brighter, if marginally. The stars had disappeared and the chilly Sea of Ghost seemed less silvery for it. The predawn light cast a dim shade about the beach that seemed equally haunting, but also relaxing.\n\nAlsfgrund began to load what was to be their final haul into the basket as Foresetti stretched. He too had been exerting himself, if not more so than his uncle. The fish didn't like being caught and the strain of pulling their bulk ashore was tiresome. While he wasn't lithe, he was still smaller than most Nord boys his age. He'd have to haul the basket up the path back to the village and that would be another difficult thing for him to do this morning. But he didn't complain; they needed the money. And his uncle was too old to carry such a heavy load on his own. But how he wished they had a horse.\n\nIt was then that Foresetti saw it, and it brought an interruption to his musings. There was something lying on the opposite side of the shoal they had been fishing on. How long it had been there he didn't know, but his heart sunk and he felt a sudden shudder at the thought that it had been there the entire time, unseen in the soft pre-dawn light. Forgetting momentarily that he was supposed to be helping his uncle fill the basket with salmon, Foresetti walked towards the strange, small broken form.\n\n\t``Fores? Where're you going?'' his uncle's voice came from behind him.\n\nHe gave a start and turned to address his uncle, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. ``Th-there's a body here, Alsf!''\n\n``A body?!'' his uncle cried and stood up, though not without a bit of effort. He ambled over to where the body lie at just in front of Foresetti and looked down at it.\n\nIt was lying face down in the dark pebbles, completely soaked. It was red, and wearing what looked like an old sack for clothing. What he at first mistook for dried blood turned out to be drenched dark red fur as he knelt down in front of it. It was a Khajiit, and a young one at that; it looked younger than he was. His uncle cursed as he looked upon the corpse. With its fur wet, it was apparent just how skinny and lithe the Khajiit was. It took both of them a moment to realise it, but there was an unusual burn on the cat's back. A hole that went right through the sack and fur, which had been singed off, leaving a scorched, blackened patch of skin.\n\n``Wonder where this cat came from...'' his uncle mused, gently nudging he body with his boot to roll it over.\n\nThe cat's eyes were closed, and its hands were bound in the front - not just with rope or chains, but with both. The two of them exchanged a glance at that.\n\n``You think he was on a prison ship, or something?'' Foresetti asked softly. He had never seen a Khajiit in person before, and had no idea how to discern their sexes, especially one so young, but something about the cat's appearance made Foresetti think it was a boy in spite of the long hair. A certain hardness to the face, maybe.\n\n``Don't know any prison ships that'd be way up here. Then again, this cat could have drifted from somewhere.''\n\n``Solitude?''\n\n``Too far away,'' his uncle replied, ``and there's land between our coast and Haafingar.''\n\nThey frowned together, pondering this strange corpse. It didn't seem to frighten Alsfgrund as much as it did Foresetti - but then again, Foresetti had never seen a corpse, Khajiit or man, before. They gazed down at the pitiful thing, both unsure of what to do.\n\nForesetti, for his part, was staring harder. It wasn't merely the body of some unknown thing. This was at one point a person. It wasn't the same as his adventure tales, where heroes and adventurers go through caves, crypts, and dungeons full of bones and miscellaneous bodies. This was a real corpse. This Khajiit was, until recently, a person. These facts slowly sunk in upon him as he stared, knelt down before it as he was, and took in the ragged feline's features. A scar began over his left eye and carried on down across the top of his muzzle, older looking than the fresher wound on his back.\n\n``You know,'' Foresetti mumbled after a moment, ``I bet that scar on his back was from a spell.''\n\n``Aye. It looked like fire was shot into him from behind. Or a bolt. Those elves liked their lightning if they could manage it,'' the old Nord said with a sigh. ``Looks like he might've been executed. Wonder what for...''\n\nHe didn't know why he did it, or what he was thinking when he did, but Foresetti reached a hand out to feel the dead Khajiit's fur, not with a finger, but with the barest amount of knuckle he could. He had at least an inkling that they were going to do something with the body - move it or at least burn it here before they left. But when he touched the arm of the Khajiit boy, he felt a stirring; not of muscle and bone; something more intangible and different within the body. It was the same feeling he felt when he had used the healing spell on his uncle. It was akin to warmth, though he felt no change in the air around him. It was beneath the cold. He started and stood up so quickly that his uncle started too.\n\n``What?!''\n\n``Alsf... I think he's alive!''\n\n``What?!'' his uncle repeated, utterly incredulous. ``How?!''\n\n``It's like,'' Foresetti knelt down again and pressed a single fingertip to the Khajiit boy's shoulder, ``When I use that soothing magic on your back. I can feel... something like life in you. I feel it with him. I don't think he's dead!''\n\n*\n\n\tIt was such an unusually quiet night. The regular drunken rabble in the Stumbling Sabrecat down below was just as loud as it always was, ever since the first night he had arrived. Really, he wasn't even sure just how long he had been here for, but almost every night the Khajiit had taken the opportunity to get drunk with the rest of them. It had been so different here - no one cared about how young he was, nor that he was a Khajiit. Their leader was a Dunmer, even, named Adras. Their second in command an Orc. It was so much nicer than being in the cities, where, if you weren't a Nord, you were a second class citizen at best and sneered at and derided at worst. The people here at Dunstad had been welcoming and accepting. His story, his lack of wealth, his race, none of it mattered here. It was the first time he had ever felt welcomed in his entire life. A place where he wasn't just another mouth to feed, but a friend and equal. A place where he could be free; could truly live without fear. In Dunstad, you earned your worth. And it just so happened that the lot here appreciated the kitten's skills. Helped hone them, even.\n\nThis night was by far the quietest. It wasn't something he had done before, but maybe he would make a habit out of it. The air wasn't all that cold at the top of the fort's tower. There were even little bales of hay all the way up here, perfect for sitting and relaxing. Alone for the first time in a long while, the Khajiit boy took the time to appreciate his solitude with nothing but the wind and stars for company. They had allowed him to leave the nightly rowdy get-together, a freedom he had never taken advantage of before. No one nagged him about going up here, and no one insisted he stay within eyesight. Everyone was their own man at Dunstad, he had been told by Adras when he came to the little town.\n\n As much as he enjoyed drinking with the others at the Sabrecat, he felt that a little bit of time alone would do him good. Besides, he didn't really feel like getting hammered tonight. Something was preoccupying his mind, and he wanted a clear train of thought for it. Lying in the hay, the little lockbox sat on his stomach. He was always careful not to shake it or rattle it, but whenever he did move it, he heard its contents shifting around inside. His fingers carefully traced over the coppery container's carved designs. He was fairly certain that they represented the constellations, though he knew little about them. Each side of the box had a different design, raised figures reminiscent of glyphs and symbols he had seen before with other Dwemer artefacts.\n\nHis thumb traced over a circle - a spot he knew to be the first piece of the puzzle, and, for what felt like the hundredth time that night, pressed down upon it. Holding down on the button, he rotated the box around, taking his time as not to rattle the contents, and, on the opposite side of the cube, he found the little raised lines that he knew could be slide out of place. The writing on the box, indented on the raised lines, was indecipherable to him, written in Dwemeris. He was certain it had some kind of clue to it, that the box had a riddle written on it, probably to help unlock it if only he could translate it. With the first line slid out of place, the button clicked and held. That was his que to turn the box around yet again, and find the three small circles arranged in a triangular pattern...\n\n``Still haven't gotten it, huh?'' an amused voice came from behind him.\n\nThe kitten jumped, startled, and nearly lost hold of the cube.\n\n``Fuck! Snow!'' he hissed, standing up. Three of his fingertips were still delicately placed on the box's circles. They were slightly indented with space for adult fingertips.\n\n``You definitely won't get it if you drop it,'' the white Argonian said genially. ``I didn't think you had any mead tonight!''\n\nHe had been around Snow enough to read him pretty well. Even though Argonians showed emotion so much differently than the mammalian races, the Khajiit boy was capable of discerning Snow's mood. Certain spines on his head changed, and there was faint colouration in the otherwise white scales. He even did a semi-smile sometimes, though, without lips, it almost always looked threatening. It was like seeing a dog wag its tail and knowing it was pleased, though he would never make such a comparison out loud. The Argonian's tone cued him in, anyway. Luckily they both spoke Tamrielic tongue naturally.\n\n``I won't drop it!'' he hissed at Snow, glaring at him. ``What'd you come up here for? To scare me?''\n\n``No,'' Snow replied evenly, ignoring his younger friend's irritation, ``I wanted to see how you were coming along. Also, we had a bottle of Firebrand...'' he added in a tone of fake casualness, showing the kitten the bottle he had been carrying.\n\nHis expression, so irritated that he closely resembled the face of the fierce mounted sabrecat head in the tavern below, quickly changed. It was almost comical. His ears perked up immediately and his expression softened from a snarl to an embarrassed, sheepish stare.\n\n``Oh,'' he said awkwardly, staring at the bottle Snow held up.\n\n``Yeah,'' the Argonian said, walking up to where the Khajiit kitten stood and uncorking the bottle.\n\nThe smell immediately hit his nose, and the kitten boy gazed at the bottle, taking it in. Mead and ale were all well and good, but it was Firebrand wine that he always liked. While the mead was always sweet and the ale a little bitter, the Firebrand really warmed him up. Stronger than regular spiced wines, it seared in the most pleasant of ways when it went down, and, true to its name, lit a fire in his stomach. Perfect for cold nights. It was rare to get a bottle, and the Khajiit boy gazed guiltily at it.\n\n``I didn't want to get drunk tonight,'' he said, holding up the cube, his fingers still holding their places on the puzzle box's mechanisms.\n\n``Suit yourself,'' Snow said with the sort of expression the cat had come to associating with a smile, and started drinking from the bottle.\n\nTogether they moved to sit down on the hay pile. The wind was pleasantly quiet, and the two moons cast a subtle, silvery light down upon them. The darkness was far from an issue for the kitten; the soft cloudless moonlight was enough for him to see the box in detail. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the echoey swish of the wine in the bottle whenever Snow took a swig, and the occasional mechanical clicks and ticks as the Khajiit boy worked on the puzzle box.\n\n``Yurzon wanted you tomorrow, by the way,'' Snow mumbled after a swig. It was almost an afterthought. \n\n``Why? More knife stuff?'' the Khajiit asked, utterly focused on the cube in his lap. Click. Click. Click. He had rotated the three circles, and they had somehow moved into three corners, and now he was pressing each of them in different orders.\n\n``Probably,'' the Argonian replied with a little shrug.\n\nIt was small talk, and Snow gave it up there. He had the feeling that Snow didn't just want to break the silence between them. Even focused as he was on the box, the kitten picked up that there was something on his mind. But then he managed the correct combination, and, still holding down on the three circles, he began the other side - a slide puzzle with Dwemer numerals, of all things. Problem was he didn't know the glyphs.\n\n``Fuck...'' the cat muttered after several minutes. This is where he kept getting stuck.\n\nSnow looked down at the puzzle, watching the kitten slide the glyphs around. After a few moments, he offered the bottle.\n\n``I can't take my paw off the locks in the back,'' he said distractedly. But the bottle was shaken slightly, and the swish and swirl of the Firebrand wine right next to his face made his ears perk. In the same way that he was capable of reading Snow's expression, Snow seemed just as good at reading his. He was tipping the bottle towards the kitten's mouth, and, almost absently, the boy lifted his mouth up towards it, and Snow gently poured a sip passed his lips. The boy looked back down and continued fiddling with the sliding glyphs before looking up with a grin. The two of them looked at one another, equally amused at what had just transpired. It had been almost entirely nonverbal.\n\n``Sorry,'' the Khajiit kitten said, feeling a little sheepish. Even the little sip had caused warmth to kindle his belly. He offered Snow a small grin, and found the Argonian looking at him. ``Wh-what?'' he asked apprehensively.\n\n``I just miss you when you go out for so long with Adras and the others. Or when I have to go out without you,'' Snow finally said. It was stated so boldly and with such clarity that the kitten could only stare at him in bewilderment.\n\n``Miss me?''\n\n``Yeah,'' Snow said, taking another sip from the firebrand, then offering the bottle to the kitten, who took his paw from the glyph puzzle this time and took a swig from it himself. He took almost a full shot, and coughed after putting it down.\n\n``Shit...'' he muttered, his voice hoarse from the coughing. It probably had been too much after a not having anything to drink for some time. Had he not been around Snow, he would have been embarrassed at coughing from the strong drink. But around the Argonian, he felt less... guarded. His belly, already a little alit from the first sip, was positively on fire. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling at all. Quite the opposite, he felt the warmth spread from his stomach and up through him and into his extremities - even in his ears. Before he could suppress it, he felt a pleasant shiver wrack his body.\n\n``What do you mean, `you miss me'?''\n\nSnow took the bottle back and held it in his lap for a moment, looking down at the straw littered stone floor of the tower. ``I mean that I miss you,'' the Argonian repeated. The emphasis, however, wasn't missed. There was something unsaid in his tone. ``I like...'' he started slowly, and the Khajiit looked up, his attention fully on Snow at those two words. ``...being around you,'' Snow finished, staring at the kitten.\n\nMaybe it took the strong, warm alcohol to give him the courage to say that. The Khajiit boy, for his part, felt the warmth in his ears only increase, and it wasn't just the firebrand. The people at Dunstad - they were friendly. He never felt unwelcomed, but this was something entirely different. New. He felt a sort of tingling nervousness in his stomach that had little to do with the drink. Almost absently, as if for something to do, he fiddled with the glyph puzzle. He had never heard that before.\n\nNerves had grasped his insides, his voice. The tingling in his stomach was joined with a tightness that he felt all over. Not only could he not think of a reply, he couldn't even think. He couldn't say anything. Everything was restricted as if a heavy block had fallen in the way of his thoughts. His mouth was open, about to form the words of a completely unformed thought, but he stopped. The greyish moonlight was slowly giving away to a different colour entirely. Looking up he saw, in the sky, a vibrant, shimmering sheet of colour, slowly forming as if from nothing. Reds, yellows, and oranges, bright and wondrous. Wavering like a curtain. It bathed the top of the tower in an ambient light, and his dark red fur almost blended in with it, making his own body difficult to see, even for him. He looked over to Snow, whose white scales had too been drenched in the warm light of the red aurora. The Argonian was looking up at the aurora just as he was, but, in that moment, they looked at one another.\n\nClick. Rattle. Snap!\n\n``...I got it open!''\n\n*\n\nThe world was heavy. No, he was heavy. There were weights pulling him down, keeping him in place. He couldn't move or lift his head, arms, anything. Everything was dark; solidly so. But the blackness slowly started to resemble mist, and he was beginning to see through it. Like a haze, it parted, and his eyes opened. Everything around him was orange; his vision was so blurry. It felt, dimly, like he had gone through this before. But it was orange this time instead of white. The room he was in was warm. A fire was lit nearby. He was lying on his front. A whitish blur was above over him, gazing down at him.\n\n``Snow..?'' he asked. His voice was scratchy and came out like sand, making him cough.\n\n``No, you're inside,'' a voice came from above. ``Here, drink. Take it slow,'' it was saying, offering something.\n\nThe Khajiit rolled over to sit up on one of his arms, accidentally pulling on his long hair. Before he could take what was offered, however, he realised just how achy he was feeling. Almost every part of his body was hurting, and he moaned as he moved to take whatever was handed to him. It felt like a mug, warmer to the touch than the even air around him felt. The liquid was hot - not unbearably so, and pleasant. It was some kind of tea. That much he could tell. As he drank it, the Khajiit boy blinked blearily up at the white figure that he had taken for a white-scaled Argonian. It turned out, however, to be the face of a young Nord.\n\n``You alright?'' the Nord asked softly, watching the kitten as he drank.\n\n``Feel like every part of me's gotten the shit beat out of it,'' the feline boy managed to reply.\n\nThe boy offered a wan sort of smile. ``I can get you something for pain, hold on.''\n\n``Wait,'' the Khajiit said before he got up, ``what's...'' he looked about the room and the question died in his throat. It looked similar to almost every other Nordic house he had ever `visited' in the Pale. Wooden walls with frosted windows bordering a thatched hay roof. And not much for decor. It was warm though, bathed in the orange glow of the nearby fire. He took everything in - not that there was much in the room - from the table in the corner where he could smell some kind of fishy smelling stew, to the shelf with little phials and bottles of this and that. A set of stairs that led downwards were on the other side of the room, opposite the bed, barred off by a wooden railing. As familiar as the layout and structure was, he didn't recognise anything. He definitely wasn't in Dunstad Grove. \n\nThe question may have faltered as he looked around, but the Nord boy seemed to catch on regardless. ``You've been out for a while,'' he said softly, watching the kitten as he gazed around the house. ``My uncle and I found you on the beach. You're in Winterhold right now,'' he added.\n\n``Winterhold..?''\n\n``Yeah. In Northeastern Skyrim,'' he said patiently.\n\n``What day is it?''\n\n``It's Turdas, the uhh... the sixteenth,'' the Nord replied, glancing up at small calendar book over the mantle. ``Of Morning Star,'' he added, seeing the slightly confused look on the Khajiit's face.\n\nThe kitten's brain felt foggy. That didn't really mean much to him. The only thing that came to him was a distant dread.\n\n``I thought I was dead,'' he said abruptly; stupidly. Everything was still slow, groggy. The last thing he recalled was a sensation of falling, of being rattled so much his brains must have been dislodged through his ears.\n\n``Close,'' the Nord boy said gently.\n\nThe kitten looked up at that, trying to fully take him in. His vision was returning, and blinking, he saw that the boy was fair skinned but with dark hair that went down behind him in a series of small plaits that he wore over his shoulder. It was an unusual hairstyle for a Nord boy, and perhaps he took too long trying to take it in, because the Nord tilted his head curiously. Maybe his mouth was hanging open and he looked like he had a question. Or stupid. He probably looked stupid.\n\n``You were in the Sea of Ghosts,'' the boy said, a little slowly. The Khajiit boy shut his mouth for good measure. ``We thought you were dead, but, when we found you, you were just barely alive. Could hardly tell you were breathing. I think I managed to keep you...'' he added, trailing off with a sort of jerk of his shoulders. \n\nThe feline boy understood. Alive. This boy had kept him from dying.\n\n``You a healer?'' he asked. The Nord boy seemed young, but then again, he didn't look much older than the Khajiit was himself.\n\n``Yeah, and I can make some basic medicines and potions too. We're near the College so we can get more powerful things if I can't make them,'' he added.\n\n``I didn't freeze?'' the Khajiit asked, confused.\n\n``No. Not sure how that happened. We assumed you just hadn't been in the water that long. Guess it was good timing,'' he finished.\n\nHe had a wonder at that. Ignoring how his body protested, the Khajiit boy sat up with a pained grunt and scooted against the wall to drink the tea more easily. It tasted sweet, like snowberries. Although he was already feeling warm from the fire and being under the heavy fur blankets, the snowberry tea warmed him even more. It was a bit like Firebrand wine, only without the burning or the alcohol. The smell was rather pleasant too, with a vaguely floral aroma beneath the berries.\n\n``Sorry, hold on, I'll get you some medicine,'' the boy said quickly after taking in the groans and pained expression of the kitten.\n\nThe memory of the last few days came to him as the Nord boy walked across the room. It wasn't like when he had been beaten unconscious and woke in the Thalmor's prison cart. This time it all flooded back to him. He just had to think about it. Of where he was. The inquisitor had managed to hit him and he must have been blown off the cliff. There was no other explanation for how he wound up on the coast of Winterhold when he had been travelling west in The Pale. But how could he have possibly survived that? Every part of his body ached, and that rattled sensation he could remember must have meant that he tumbled down the mountain, rather than been launched. Aside from the general unease from the pain, there were several places on him that throbbed in particular. Bruises unseen through his fur, no doubt.\n\nHe realised, looking down at his bare arms, that the ropes and metal chains had been removed along with the filthy sack. It suddenly occurred to him that he had been undressed. Though he was shirtless, the Khajiit boy was wearing a pair of trousers that he certainly hadn't been wearing when he was a captive. It might have been because he was so groggy, but he just hadn't noticed until that moment. There were bandages wrapped around his midriff, just under his ribs, and he felt a warm, gooey something against his back, beneath the fur. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, surprisingly. If anything, it was soothing. That had to have been where he had been hit...\n\n``Here,'' the Nord boy said softly, jerking the Khajiit from his thoughts. He hadn't noticed the Nord climbing up the stairs on the other side of the room. \n\nHe was holding out a small glass phial full of a reddish liquid. It was glowing faintly, but the kitten recognised it right away by the scent before anything else: a faint smell of flowers and wheat; almost like an odd mixture of floral bread. It was definitely a potion; a medicinal draught that he actually knew how to make. A type that could both be reinvigorating and relieve pain at the same time.\n\n``Can I ask your name?'' he asked as the Khajiit downed the medicine. The phial was barely a shot.\n\n``What?'' he started before the question registered. ``Oh. It's E'kuun'dyao,'' the feline boy answered without thinking. Ignoring the other boy's mild befuddlement, it struck him that sharing his name might not be pertinent. But then again, this boy had taken him in and rescued him. That and he was fairly certain that the Thalmor didn't know him by name.\n\n``Eekoowhat?'' he asked, grinning in an apologetic, embarrassed manner.\n\n``Just E'kuun,'' the Khajiit boy said with the best grin he could muster. It felt faint, taught.\n\n``Eekoon,'' the boy repeated, testing the sound of it, as if asking if he was pronouncing it right.\n\nIt was the sort of thing E'kuun would have normally found rude or irritating from almost anyone else, but the Nord boy was different. Most people in general, men and mer, disregarded his name if they even asked, preferring to just call him `cat.' But this boy wasn't making fun of his name or belittling him for his species; he was trying to get the pronunciation right. E'kuun gave the other boy a little nod.\n\n``I'm Foresetti,'' he said, grinning.\n\nIt was a much more genuine thing than E'kuun could manage, and it was very nearly infectious. Not quite enough, though. He closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh, feeling relief from the fast acting medicine. It wasn't just the aches and pains that were feeling alleviated. In their absence, E'kuun registered, with surprise, that the headache that had been plaguing him for days was gone. He hadn't even woken up with it! A more genuine grin crossed the feline's face as the realisation hit him. It was finally gone.\n\n``Feeling better?'' Foresetti asked, evidently happy at the effect his potion had on the kitten.\n\n``Yeah, actually. What's on my back?'' The warm, oddly gooey substance beneath the bandage was strangely soothing, but E'kuun couldn't help but to feel a little gross whenever he shifted slightly and felt it press against his skin and through his fur.\n\n``It's a poultice,'' Foresetti explained, ``mixed some of the same ingredients as that medicine you just drank with a bit of nirnroot and lavender for... well, we think you got hit by some kind of spell. There's a big patch of fur that's burned away and you've got a scar there.''\n\nThere was an unasked question in that statement. E'kuun took another drink of tea to avoid answering and handed the tiny potion phial back to the other boy. Foresetti was still surveying him as he took the jar and placed it on the shelf nearby. The unasked question seemed to burn from his gaze, but E'kuun had the feeling he was the quieter sort; the kind that don't push the subject if the other person didn't answer. Foresetti hadn't directly asked, after all.\n\n``How long have I been here?'' the kitten asked after a few more gulps of tea. It really was making him feel better.\n\nE'kuun's intuition about Foresetti seemed to be right: he didn't push the subject.\n\n``About two days. We had Colette from the College come down to see if you were recovering. She's their healing specialist up there,'' Foresetti explained. ``She also said that was done some time before the uh, spell,'' he added somewhat nervously, gesturing at E'kuun's left eye.\n\nE'kuun grunted in reply before taking another sip, mostly to keep from having to talk.\n\nTwo days. He had been unconscious for two days. He had wondered how long he had been out as a prisoner. It had only seemed like the next day, but it could have been longer. He had no idea; he hadn't kept a journal or calendar in Dunstad.\n\n``You hungry?'' Foresetti asked, almost sounding timid, as if interrupting E'kuun's thoughts was rude of him. ``You haven't eaten in two days at least,'' he added.\n\nOnce it was asked, the question had awakened the hunger rumbling in E'kuun's stomach. For some reason, the hunger churning in his belly just hadn't registered. Maybe it had been a combination of waking up so groggy and being in so much pain. His mind was so busy trying to figure out what had happened and how he had arrived in Winterhold. He did feel the hunger, but his appetite hadn't been apparent until Foresetti brought it up.\n\n``Y-yeah,'' E'kuun said, glancing at the Nord boy, ``I guess I am.''\n\nForesetti stood up from the wooden chair next to the bed and walked over towards the table on the other side of the room, returning with a wooden bowl full of that fishy smelling stew. E'kuun had the impression that Foresetti had been eating it before he woke up. \n\n``It's nothing special, just some vegetables and salmon. We don't really get a lot of game out here,'' he added apologetically.\n\nE'kuun didn't care. All he knew was that he was hungry. It could have been burnt skeever and he would have eaten it. Granted, he had had burnt skeever before. He accepted the offered bowl and spoon from Foresetti and began eating the stew. Seafood wasn't something E'kuun ever had too often, but he'd take it over starving. It wasn't particularly good, but that mattered very little.\n\nForesetti watched him as he ate and grinned a little at his expression.\n\n``My uncle made it,'' he explained. ``I know it isn't great but we can only do so much with salmon.''\n\nE'kuun shrugged by way of reply; too busy shovelling the bits of fish and vegetables into his mouth. He was so hungry that he even drank the rest of the broth in spite of the too-salty flavour. Luckily enough there was enough tea to wash it down. \n\nAn hour or so later the door opened and a much older Nord man entered the house, bringing with him a chilly gust that blew through the warm room. It was gone as quickly as it had come once the door shut behind him, but E'kuun still felt the chill creep through his fur. It made him shiver - he was still without a shirt. The man stood in front of the door, brushing all the snow off of his cloak. While he was shorter than most Nord men E'kuun had encountered, he at first seemed much larger due to the bulk of the heavy cloak and furs.\n\n``Hey Alsf,'' Foresetti said as the man began removing layer after layer. ``Any luck?''\n\n``'Fraid not. Whatever got a hold of Kraldar's cow has probably slunk off towards the ice. Bagged a hare, though.'' he mumbled, briefly gesturing with the carcass before turning to see E'kuun. He surveyed the Khajiit for a moment, making E'kuun suddenly feel self-conscious. He was sitting on this old Nord's bed without a shirt on.\n\n``Ah, you're awake.'' His tone was not disapproving, but it was oddly stern with a mixture of amusement.\n\n``He just woke up a couple hours ago,'' Foresetti said as Alsf moved towards the fireplace.\n\nE'kuun gave a solemn nod and unconsciously crossed his arms over his chest. The chill wasn't merely from the snowy wind outside, but also the old man's gaze. He eyed the Khajiit momentarily as he tied the hare to a rack that hung from a wooden beam just above the mantle. E'kuun didn't like being scrutinised by anyone, let alone a Nord whose home he found himself occupying. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not the old Nord would tolerate him now he was awake. Thoughts raced through E'kuun's head - would this old man would kick him out now he was awake? Was it only because of the younger, kind Foresetti that he was allowed in this bed? \n\nThe Nord named Alsf was an old man, not much taller than his nephew. He was hunched over slightly, but there was a venerable gleam to his eye that he cast towards E'kuun. The hunting bow and quiver full of arrows did a lot to assuage the idea that this was just an ordinary old man. He had gone out hunting at his age, apparently after something capable of taking a cow.\n\n``So,'' Alsfgrund said, grabbing a chair from the table. He sat down with a sigh and then looked to his Khajiit guest, the gleam strong in his eyes yet again. ``Are the Thalmor on their way to hunt you down?''\n\n``What?'' E'kuun asked.\n\nLying had always come naturally to him. Feeling as vulnerable as he was, E'kuun could still pick up on the dry wit on display. Had he been serious, E'kuun might have faltered - at least a little. But he managed to feign a convincing bemusement.\n\nThe old Nord gestured up to the mantle of the fireplace, where an idol sat. It was the same shape as the amulet the Talos worshiper on the cart had worn.\n\n``We here in Winterhold still hold to the traditions,'' Alsf said, ``Talos is our god. No elves are gonna stop us worshiping him. That is, unless they send their inquisition here looking for you.''\n\nThat was almost certainly an accusation. The grin on the old man's face was one of triumph and assuredness, rather than outright amusement. E'kuun looked to Foresetti, actually confused. The Khajiit boy knew how to play his cards. The confusion that he felt from Alsf figuring out what he had escaped from fuelled the false expression of bewildered concern.\n\n``Alsf...'' Foresetti tried, but the old Nord persisted.\n\n``Your hands were bound. You had a big scar on your back. Looked like it was from a lightning bolt. The Thalmor like their lightning magic. Saw plenty of it during the war. It isn't hard putting two'n'two together, cat,'' he finished with a tone that suggested there would be no arguing; that he had it figured out. Worse than that was his use of cat.\n\nE'kuun glared at the old man, a story about trying to steal from an Imperial encampment because he was so hungry was quickly forming in his mind; they had battlemages and could have chased him to the coast. But Foresetti cut in almost immediately.\n\n``E'kuun barely survived what happened, Alsf!'' he said in affronted tones. ``And if he was running from the Thalmor, then he's an ally to us faithful to Talos, even if he isn't himself. An enemy of those Altmer are a friend to us, right? That inquisitor that arrived at the College is only here for the College, not us. No one came looking in the houses, and he didn't have any sort of guards with him.''\n\nThe Nord boy had eyes only for his uncle, and his expression was surprisingly fierce. So much so that Alsf's smugness all but vanished, replaced with a softened expression. He turned to E'kuun, not with an apology, but with an outright question.\n\n``We were wondering why your hands were bound when we found you,'' he said with a sigh, as if it made up for his rudeness. It didn't. Even if he was right...\n\n``It isn't really any of your business,'' E'kuun replied quietly, his voice soft, still glaring at the old man.\n\nHe expected Alsfgrund to get angry, to say that he had offered him his home for two long days of recovery and that he was crossing a line with that. He was ready to be kicked out and to get away. As nice as Foresetti was, he doubted he could be around Alsf for very long without saying something far ruder. The old man eyed the young kitten for a time, and, between them, Foresetti seemed tense. Alsf's eyes bored into E'kuun's, looking at him hard. It wasn't a threatening stare-down, but something much more thoughtful. E'kuun didn't falter, and stared back. The Khajiit kitten expected something - some kind of anger, but not the response he got. A shrug.\n\n``Well,'' Alsf said with a pause, ``You're right. It isn't my business. You can stay here until you're well enough to travel.''\n\nE'kuun stared at the old man, actually shocked. Alsf stood up and made his way downstairs, and E'kuun turned his shocked expression to Foresetti.\n\n ``Don't worry about it,'' Foresetti said softly. ``Alsf fought in the Great War. He's a bit paranoid about the Thalmor and all of the anti-Talos talk. Some Altmer arrived the day after we brought you here. Alsf was in the Jarl's longhouse talking with the steward when the inquisitor came in, and he's been on edge ever since.''\n\n``Oh,'' E'kuun said simply, frowning slightly.\n\n``He went up to the College and hasn't come back yet, as far as I know,'' Foresetti added.\n\nOne unescorted inquisitor didn't seem like much. E'kuun had his doubts that the one that had imprisoned him and blown him off the cliff would come to search Winterhold all on his own. If he even survived the rest of that battle. Really, he'd expect the Thalmor to search the coast below the cliff, if anything.\n\nE'kuun closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the wall. The aches from the bruises and the injuries were dull now thanks to the medicine. He guessed that the food and tea helped some, too. Without the headache clogging up his mind, though, he felt as if he could really suss out everything that had happened...\n\n``Were you running from the Thalmor?'' Foresetti asked quietly. He seemed genuinely concerned.\n\nE'kuun had never taken so well with someone as quickly as he did with Foresetti. Maybe it was because he had kept him from dying, but there was something about him that he liked. The Nord boy was quiet in a way - full of questions, yes, but he almost seemed as if he was afraid of being annoying with how he asked them. E'kuun rarely met anyone that talked to him the way he was. Like they were equals. Like he was worth someone's time. Maybe that's why the lie took a while to come out.\n\nE'kuun shook his head. ``No...''\n\nBut how to explain his bound paws..?\n\n``I was... arrested for stealing food,'' he said slowly, looking away. Neither men nor mer could really grasp feline expressions when they were faked, and the simple drooping of his ears seemed to have sold his story.\n\n``Where?'' Foresetti asked incredulously.\n\n``Stonehills.'' \n\nIt was the closest town to Dunstad Grove; a grain of truth. Of a sort.\n\n``That's... in The Pale, right? It's south of Dawnstar, near the mountain?''\n\n``Something like that,'' E'kuun said, shrugging slightly.\n\n``Why did they arrest you for that? You're not old enough for jail...'' he said, albeit uncertainly\n\n``Yeah I am,'' E'kuun replied, managing his first genuine grin. ``Or they don't care. Repeat offender. I- I lived kind of... on the streets, you know? I'd sneak around the town from time to time for food.'' \n\nThat wasn't a complete lie. Though Stonehills barely had enough buildings to qualify for a city with streets; it was mining village.\n\n``How did you end up in Winterhold, then?'' he asked, concerned. ``Wouldn't they take you to Dawnstar or just put you in the prison at Stonehills?''\n\n``They were gonna have me sit in the jail in Dawnstar, and eventually send me to the orphanage there,'' E'kuun explained.\n\n``...So how did you end up getting a spell in your back?''\n\n``W-well. I did a runner. One of the guards was a mage, and she had this light wooden club and some kind of shock spell. Idea was, if you tried running away, she'd bolt you and you'd get stunned, and not, well...'' he trailed off, leaving the implication aloft in the air for Foresetti to figure out. Coming to the conclusion himself would help make the story have strength, he felt.\n\n``Anyway. I guess she put a little too much power behind it when she shot me with it, because I went flying and tumbled down the mountainside, right into the Sea of Ghosts. I must've drifted to Winterhold on the currents...''\n\nWith how Foresetti was staring, E'kuun feared that he had gone too far by explaining how he wound up on the beach. But after a moment filled with an incredulous state, he seemed to buy it.\n\n``I think the fall hurt more than the shock,'' he said softly, cutting across the Nord boy's thoughts.\n\nBefore he could take it back, Foresetti gave him a curious expression.\n\n``No, I think it was stronger than you think,'' he said slowly. ``I had to use a strong healing spell; not just what I'm used to whenever I help my uncle's pain. With a channeller and all. And then I put the poultice on for good measure. It was pretty bad,'' he added in a softer voice.\n\n``A channeller?''\n\n``I've got a rod for using magic, but it's cheap,'' he explained, gesturing to a crudely carved piece of driftwood on the mantle of the fireplace that E'kuun had taken for a walking stick before.\n\n``Mm... I don't really remember feeling the shock,'' E'kuun invented.\n\n``It might have knocked you out... who knows?'' Foresetti offered sympathetically.\n\n``Yeah. ...Hey,'' E'kuun began, but faltered. \n\nIt wasn't something he could explain easily, but asking more from the kind Nord boy was difficult. It felt rude somehow to request anything of him after he had done so much. Foresetti looked to E'kuun inquisitively, so he pressed on.\n\n``Can... can you- do you have any clothes I can wear? Other than the trousers, I mean. I- I don't really like just... my fur,'' he muttered awkwardly.\n\n``Oh, sure,'' he said, standing up and walking over to a wardrobe near the bed. ``Those are actually some of my old pants,'' he said as he perused the wardrobe. ``I don't think these fit me anymore,'' he said slowly as he produced a long-sleeved, light red shirt and an accompanying pocketed vest. ``You can just wear the shirt.''\n\nE'kuun moved to stand up, but his body protested. An ache wracked through him. His legs felt weak and incredibly sore from both disuse and the injuries. Had it not been for the medicine, he might not have been able to stand. But, after a bit of trouble, he managed it. Holding onto the heavy bookshelf next to the bedside table to steady himself, he took a precarious stumble forward.\n\n``E'kuun, what're you doing?!'' Foresetti exclaimed.\n\n``Standing?'' the kitten cried in return, startled by Foresetti's sudden reprimand.\n\nIt was as if Foresetti had caught him getting ready to dive off the cliff again, his voice was so stern. Not only was it the first time he had addressed E'kuun by name, it was the first time he said something to him in anything other than a gentle, quiet tone. Dropping the clothes onto the bed, he rushed over and helped E'kuun to sit back down.\n\n``I can stand,'' he protested as the bigger boy gently guided him back onto the bed. E'kuun flicked his tail to the side for good measure so it wouldn't be sat on. ``How am I supposed to put them on sitting down?''\n\n``It's a shirt,'' Foresetti said simply, offering it out to him. ``You put it on over your head. Arms go through these holes. You don't need to be standing.''\n\nE'kuun took the shirt from him with a small growl. He hadn't quite expected Foresetti to speak with such cheek, and, privately, he found it amusing. Enough so that he wasn't irritated by the mollycoddling. Though he did fight to keep the smirk off his face.\n\n``I didn't need to stand, I wanted to,'' E'kuun explained exasperated as he pulled the shirt over his head. ``My legs are so weak,'' he added quickly, realising he had been rude.\n\nForesetti opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but closed it.\n\n``You're not thinking about leaving already?'' he asked finally.\n\n``I- well, I probably should...'' E'kuun mumbled almost inaudibly.\n\nWhile Foresetti's uncle had said that E'kuun was welcome to stay until he was better, he really didn't want to push it and stay much longer. He hadn't even had any time to think things over yet.\n\n``You can barely stand,'' Foresetti pointed out.\n\n``I- I know,'' E'kuun muttered. ``I think I need to sort of- c-could you let me alone for a little?'' E'kuun finally managed to ask, not quite meeting Foresetti's eyes.\n\n``Yeah, sure. I can go talk to Alsf about how the hunt went. I might go to bed, actually, unless you need anything?''\n\nE'kuun shook his head. He was surprised; Foresetti didn't seem offended or upset in the slightest.\n\n``We're just downstairs, so, just call out. And uh, we'll hear it if you try and leave. The boards creek.''\n\nAgain, E'kuun was surprised. Foresetti gave him another grin and made his way downstairs.\n\nIt was silent. Night had already begun to fall outside by Alsfgrund's return and the fire had begun to dwindle slightly, darkening the room. The heavy frosted glass bordering the thatched roof and wooden walls was blackened. Too opaque for any starlight to seep in, they drew E'kuun's eyes as they grew darker and darker with snow.\n\nHe had been lost in thought for some time now. Not really thinking clearly or coherently; more in a daze of sorts. Focusing was difficult, and it was with dull, irritable dread that the mild pang in his head returned, offering constant protest. As were the memories that his brain kept forcing him to dwell on.\n\nHe didn't know who had survived that night other than him. And the whole thing had been entirely his fault. E'kuun's heart sank with utter despair and dread whenever that night resurfaced in his mind. And it had done over and over, ever since Foresetti went to bed hours before.\n\nE'kuun had never had a proper home. Not really. He had moved around so much, even when he was a much younger kitten. No place had ever felt like a home; just places to spend the dark hours. Restless, anxious spells of drifting in and out of troubled sleep. Always worrying about looming threats around him. An orphanage, the decrepit, filthy warrens, the streets. They had never been places of comfort or solace. Always interludes between stress and work. Never safe, calm places.\n\nDunstad Grove was the first place he had ever felt remotely safe. A village around an old fort, it had been remote, secluded in the Pale as it was. Stonehills had always been the more important settlement in the area, and the few soldiers the jarl could spare wound up there. With less than a token of the jarl's men to patrol the village, the sellswords led by Adras were the main authority there. No one cared about Dunstad Grove. And then those guards had just allowed the Thalmor in. Let them kill everyone in the fort. They weren't members of a bandit clan; Adras' men were a proper group of sellswords. They had been, anyway. They were wiped out. Were gone. He had ruined everything. And no one would care. Not about the sellswords that offended the Aldmeri Dominion. Not about his kind Argonian friend. The Orc who showed E'kuun how to use daggers and a bow. Nor the brave Dunmer man who had taught E'kuun so much.\n\nAnd no one would ever care about him. If the Thalmor caught up with him again, it was all over. Absolutely no one in the province would give a skeever's fart for what would happen to him, a stranger in his own land of birth.\n\nE'kuun felt a burning in his eyes. Blinking, he realised that he had been staring at the window, not even seeing it. Gathering the fur blanket up to his chest, the Khajiit boy huddled inwardly, squeezing the furry mass to himself, eyes shut tight. A pain welled up inside of him. Different from the migraine and very unlike the injury on his back. It wracked through him as he recalled everyone he had let down. Every face he knew; every name and every friend. Realising that he would never be able to see them again. Never return to the secluded, snowy fort with pockets full of ill-gotten gems or coins from Stonehills or Dawnstar. He wouldn't again see pride in anyone's eyes when he drew a particularly good catch.\n\nAwash with guilt and shame, E'kuun's body tensed. His breathing came in rapid, staggering sobs, and his claws dug into the furred blanket. \n\nWhat could he possibly do now?\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"The Red Lynx

Chapter One

Ahziss Zaigoh

The sun had yet to rise but the stars above twinkled dimly as the sky slowly began to lighten, turning from black to a deep, soporific blue. Even in the darkest hours of the early morning the Sea of Ghosts was hauntingly silver. Whatever light made its way onto the waters filtered through the snow clouds, even on clearer mornings like this one, giving the beach a forlorn, saturnine look. It was long before sunrise when the boy and his had uncle risen, fishing nets and bucket in tow, for the dark-shingled beach near their home. It was cold tedious work, throwing the net and pulling it back in, but the coast was rich with salmon. And early morning, his uncle said, was always the best time for fishing.

Foresetti groaned as he worked to haul the net out from the water. He was by no means weak, but fighting a net full of panicking writhing fish wasn't the easiest thing to pull out of the water. It wasn't until five minutes had passed that his uncle, stood up, grunting, and came to assist, grumbling all the while. It was a good haul, he had known, as together they pulled and pulled the net. With the older Nord's help Foresetti managed to pull the net out from the waves and together they dragged the fish onto land.

``First catch looks good!'' the Nord boy said. In the net lay a squirming, flopping mass of salmon. Foresetti looked to his uncle, grinning.

``Aye, told you it'd be best early, didn't I?'' Alsfgrund said.

``I got up,'' Foresetti replied with a faint grin.

``Only after getting a mug of water in the face. I damn near pulled my back pulling that, you know,'' he added sternly. That wiped the grin from Foresetti's face. ``I can't keep fishing like this alone, boy. How long were you up last night reading that book from that elf?''

Deciding it was best not to answer, Foresetti cast his gaze down onto the writhing mass of fish. They stunk just like the salty sea breeze that billowed through the coast. Wrinkling his nose, he knelt down and grabbed the net's rope and began tugging the catch more inland, towards the basket. His uncle had a point, though. The entire night, Foresetti had been preoccupied with a used spell tome he had acquired from an Altmer living in the Frozen Hearth Inn. Though well beyond him, the theory had fascinated Foresetti, and he had stayed up far too late reading the tome and trying to comprehend it, knowing full well that they had planned to go fishing in only a matter of hours. His heart sank slightly with guilt as he listened to Alsfgrund's complaints.

 ``Winterhold barely makes it by on its own,'' he was saying. ``What with the farms frozen and the war preoccupying everyone's minds and that College eating up more than the Jarl's Longhouse. The best we can do is fish,'' he continued as he started opening the basket. ``If we can't keep up, especially in this season, we'll have to start begging out in the cold.''

``If you'd let me go down to Windhelm to learn at the School of Jhunal there, I might be able to make us some money,'' Foresetti replied as he began loading the fish into the basket with his uncle.

``I can't lose you, boy. I need you up here, with me,'' Alsfgrund said gruffly.

 The old man groaned and sat down, a grimace on his face. Evidently in pain from both pulling their haul and loading the basket, it was just one more thing on top of the long walk down to the frigid beach. It was with care then, that Foresetti approached his uncle and placed his hand on his back, the way he had so many times before. Alsfgrund sighed contently as the dark-shingled beach, so dim in the sleepy early morning hours, was momentarily alight in faint golden warmth that flowed from Foresetti's hands. It was a soothed, relieved sound that bade the irritableness away. For a time.

In truth, Foresetti never really knew just how he could perform the magic he did. It came upon him like an instinct. In the same way looking at a well prepared meal made one's stomach growl, or even the same way one might flinch if a fly came too close to your face. He just had this capability, and the ability to exert it while his uncle didn't. And though he had never been allowed to visit the College, he was allowed to buy a used spell tome from time to time.

``Want me to relight the fire?'' Foresetti asked once his uncle's pain had been satisfactorily eased.

Alsfgrund's fishing spot was old, and a shelter had been established years ago. The small wood fire they had made sat smoking next to it. Foresetti raised his hand and, mentally flexing, conjured the dormant flames of a spell with which to rekindle the fire.

``No,'' his uncle replied. ``I'm alright now. Light it again and the wood will turn to ashes. Best wait until we need a proper rest.''

``Or if it gets too cold,'' Foresetti added.

``Aye,'' Alsfgrund chuckled.

The pair of them began loading their basket with salmon. Their net was by no means the massive kind you see swaths of Nord fishermen brandish through the entire breadth of rivers, but it was big enough to catch several pounds at a time, should their attempts prove fruitful. And they did this morning. The basket had enough room for a few more hauls, and that was good. He only hoped they could lift it and take it back to town when it was full.

The sun still hadn't managed to rise as both Alsfgrund and Foresetti pulled their fifth mass of salmon out from the water. The sky was still dark, but it was beginning to look brighter, if marginally. The stars had disappeared and the chilly Sea of Ghost seemed less silvery for it. The predawn light cast a dim shade about the beach that seemed equally haunting, but also relaxing.

Alsfgrund began to load what was to be their final haul into the basket as Foresetti stretched. He too had been exerting himself, if not more so than his uncle. The fish didn't like being caught and the strain of pulling their bulk ashore was tiresome. While he wasn't lithe, he was still smaller than most Nord boys his age. He'd have to haul the basket up the path back to the village and that would be another difficult thing for him to do this morning. But he didn't complain; they needed the money. And his uncle was too old to carry such a heavy load on his own. But how he wished they had a horse.

It was then that Foresetti saw it, and it brought an interruption to his musings. There was something lying on the opposite side of the shoal they had been fishing on. How long it had been there he didn't know, but his heart sunk and he felt a sudden shudder at the thought that it had been there the entire time, unseen in the soft pre-dawn light. Forgetting momentarily that he was supposed to be helping his uncle fill the basket with salmon, Foresetti walked towards the strange, small broken form.

\t``Fores? Where're you going?'' his uncle's voice came from behind him.

He gave a start and turned to address his uncle, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. ``Th-there's a body here, Alsf!''

``A body?!'' his uncle cried and stood up, though not without a bit of effort. He ambled over to where the body lie at just in front of Foresetti and looked down at it.

It was lying face down in the dark pebbles, completely soaked. It was red, and wearing what looked like an old sack for clothing. What he at first mistook for dried blood turned out to be drenched dark red fur as he knelt down in front of it. It was a Khajiit, and a young one at that; it looked younger than he was. His uncle cursed as he looked upon the corpse. With its fur wet, it was apparent just how skinny and lithe the Khajiit was. It took both of them a moment to realise it, but there was an unusual burn on the cat's back. A hole that went right through the sack and fur, which had been singed off, leaving a scorched, blackened patch of skin.

``Wonder where this cat came from...'' his uncle mused, gently nudging he body with his boot to roll it over.

The cat's eyes were closed, and its hands were bound in the front - not just with rope or chains, but with both. The two of them exchanged a glance at that.

``You think he was on a prison ship, or something?'' Foresetti asked softly. He had never seen a Khajiit in person before, and had no idea how to discern their sexes, especially one so young, but something about the cat's appearance made Foresetti think it was a boy in spite of the long hair. A certain hardness to the face, maybe.

``Don't know any prison ships that'd be way up here. Then again, this cat could have drifted from somewhere.''

``Solitude?''

``Too far away,'' his uncle replied, ``and there's land between our coast and Haafingar.''

They frowned together, pondering this strange corpse. It didn't seem to frighten Alsfgrund as much as it did Foresetti - but then again, Foresetti had never seen a corpse, Khajiit or man, before. They gazed down at the pitiful thing, both unsure of what to do.

Foresetti, for his part, was staring harder. It wasn't merely the body of some unknown thing. This was at one point a person. It wasn't the same as his adventure tales, where heroes and adventurers go through caves, crypts, and dungeons full of bones and miscellaneous bodies. This was a real corpse. This Khajiit was, until recently, a person. These facts slowly sunk in upon him as he stared, knelt down before it as he was, and took in the ragged feline's features. A scar began over his left eye and carried on down across the top of his muzzle, older looking than the fresher wound on his back.

``You know,'' Foresetti mumbled after a moment, ``I bet that scar on his back was from a spell.''

``Aye. It looked like fire was shot into him from behind. Or a bolt. Those elves liked their lightning if they could manage it,'' the old Nord said with a sigh. ``Looks like he might've been executed. Wonder what for...''

He didn't know why he did it, or what he was thinking when he did, but Foresetti reached a hand out to feel the dead Khajiit's fur, not with a finger, but with the barest amount of knuckle he could. He had at least an inkling that they were going to do something with the body - move it or at least burn it here before they left. But when he touched the arm of the Khajiit boy, he felt a stirring; not of muscle and bone; something more intangible and different within the body. It was the same feeling he felt when he had used the healing spell on his uncle. It was akin to warmth, though he felt no change in the air around him. It was beneath the cold. He started and stood up so quickly that his uncle started too.

``What?!''

``Alsf... I think he's alive!''

``What?!'' his uncle repeated, utterly incredulous. ``How?!''

``It's like,'' Foresetti knelt down again and pressed a single fingertip to the Khajiit boy's shoulder, ``When I use that soothing magic on your back. I can feel... something like life in you. I feel it with him. I don't think he's dead!''

*

\tIt was such an unusually quiet night. The regular drunken rabble in the Stumbling Sabrecat down below was just as loud as it always was, ever since the first night he had arrived. Really, he wasn't even sure just how long he had been here for, but almost every night the Khajiit had taken the opportunity to get drunk with the rest of them. It had been so different here - no one cared about how young he was, nor that he was a Khajiit. Their leader was a Dunmer, even, named Adras. Their second in command an Orc. It was so much nicer than being in the cities, where, if you weren't a Nord, you were a second class citizen at best and sneered at and derided at worst. The people here at Dunstad had been welcoming and accepting. His story, his lack of wealth, his race, none of it mattered here. It was the first time he had ever felt welcomed in his entire life. A place where he wasn't just another mouth to feed, but a friend and equal. A place where he could be free; could truly live without fear. In Dunstad, you earned your worth. And it just so happened that the lot here appreciated the kitten's skills. Helped hone them, even.

This night was by far the quietest. It wasn't something he had done before, but maybe he would make a habit out of it. The air wasn't all that cold at the top of the fort's tower. There were even little bales of hay all the way up here, perfect for sitting and relaxing. Alone for the first time in a long while, the Khajiit boy took the time to appreciate his solitude with nothing but the wind and stars for company. They had allowed him to leave the nightly rowdy get-together, a freedom he had never taken advantage of before. No one nagged him about going up here, and no one insisted he stay within eyesight. Everyone was their own man at Dunstad, he had been told by Adras when he came to the little town.

 As much as he enjoyed drinking with the others at the Sabrecat, he felt that a little bit of time alone would do him good. Besides, he didn't really feel like getting hammered tonight. Something was preoccupying his mind, and he wanted a clear train of thought for it. Lying in the hay, the little lockbox sat on his stomach. He was always careful not to shake it or rattle it, but whenever he did move it, he heard its contents shifting around inside. His fingers carefully traced over the coppery container's carved designs. He was fairly certain that they represented the constellations, though he knew little about them. Each side of the box had a different design, raised figures reminiscent of glyphs and symbols he had seen before with other Dwemer artefacts.

His thumb traced over a circle - a spot he knew to be the first piece of the puzzle, and, for what felt like the hundredth time that night, pressed down upon it. Holding down on the button, he rotated the box around, taking his time as not to rattle the contents, and, on the opposite side of the cube, he found the little raised lines that he knew could be slide out of place. The writing on the box, indented on the raised lines, was indecipherable to him, written in Dwemeris. He was certain it had some kind of clue to it, that the box had a riddle written on it, probably to help unlock it if only he could translate it. With the first line slid out of place, the button clicked and held. That was his que to turn the box around yet again, and find the three small circles arranged in a triangular pattern...

``Still haven't gotten it, huh?'' an amused voice came from behind him.

The kitten jumped, startled, and nearly lost hold of the cube.

``Fuck! Snow!'' he hissed, standing up. Three of his fingertips were still delicately placed on the box's circles. They were slightly indented with space for adult fingertips.

``You definitely won't get it if you drop it,'' the white Argonian said genially. ``I didn't think you had any mead tonight!''

He had been around Snow enough to read him pretty well. Even though Argonians showed emotion so much differently than the mammalian races, the Khajiit boy was capable of discerning Snow's mood. Certain spines on his head changed, and there was faint colouration in the otherwise white scales. He even did a semi-smile sometimes, though, without lips, it almost always looked threatening. It was like seeing a dog wag its tail and knowing it was pleased, though he would never make such a comparison out loud. The Argonian's tone cued him in, anyway. Luckily they both spoke Tamrielic tongue naturally.

``I won't drop it!'' he hissed at Snow, glaring at him. ``What'd you come up here for? To scare me?''

``No,'' Snow replied evenly, ignoring his younger friend's irritation, ``I wanted to see how you were coming along. Also, we had a bottle of Firebrand...'' he added in a tone of fake casualness, showing the kitten the bottle he had been carrying.

His expression, so irritated that he closely resembled the face of the fierce mounted sabrecat head in the tavern below, quickly changed. It was almost comical. His ears perked up immediately and his expression softened from a snarl to an embarrassed, sheepish stare.

``Oh,'' he said awkwardly, staring at the bottle Snow held up.

``Yeah,'' the Argonian said, walking up to where the Khajiit kitten stood and uncorking the bottle.

The smell immediately hit his nose, and the kitten boy gazed at the bottle, taking it in. Mead and ale were all well and good, but it was Firebrand wine that he always liked. While the mead was always sweet and the ale a little bitter, the Firebrand really warmed him up. Stronger than regular spiced wines, it seared in the most pleasant of ways when it went down, and, true to its name, lit a fire in his stomach. Perfect for cold nights. It was rare to get a bottle, and the Khajiit boy gazed guiltily at it.

``I didn't want to get drunk tonight,'' he said, holding up the cube, his fingers still holding their places on the puzzle box's mechanisms.

``Suit yourself,'' Snow said with the sort of expression the cat had come to associating with a smile, and started drinking from the bottle.

Together they moved to sit down on the hay pile. The wind was pleasantly quiet, and the two moons cast a subtle, silvery light down upon them. The darkness was far from an issue for the kitten; the soft cloudless moonlight was enough for him to see the box in detail. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the echoey swish of the wine in the bottle whenever Snow took a swig, and the occasional mechanical clicks and ticks as the Khajiit boy worked on the puzzle box.

``Yurzon wanted you tomorrow, by the way,'' Snow mumbled after a swig. It was almost an afterthought.

``Why? More knife stuff?'' the Khajiit asked, utterly focused on the cube in his lap. Click. Click. Click. He had rotated the three circles, and they had somehow moved into three corners, and now he was pressing each of them in different orders.

``Probably,'' the Argonian replied with a little shrug.

It was small talk, and Snow gave it up there. He had the feeling that Snow didn't just want to break the silence between them. Even focused as he was on the box, the kitten picked up that there was something on his mind. But then he managed the correct combination, and, still holding down on the three circles, he began the other side - a slide puzzle with Dwemer numerals, of all things. Problem was he didn't know the glyphs.

``Fuck...'' the cat muttered after several minutes. This is where he kept getting stuck.

Snow looked down at the puzzle, watching the kitten slide the glyphs around. After a few moments, he offered the bottle.

``I can't take my paw off the locks in the back,'' he said distractedly. But the bottle was shaken slightly, and the swish and swirl of the Firebrand wine right next to his face made his ears perk. In the same way that he was capable of reading Snow's expression, Snow seemed just as good at reading his. He was tipping the bottle towards the kitten's mouth, and, almost absently, the boy lifted his mouth up towards it, and Snow gently poured a sip passed his lips. The boy looked back down and continued fiddling with the sliding glyphs before looking up with a grin. The two of them looked at one another, equally amused at what had just transpired. It had been almost entirely nonverbal.

``Sorry,'' the Khajiit kitten said, feeling a little sheepish. Even the little sip had caused warmth to kindle his belly. He offered Snow a small grin, and found the Argonian looking at him. ``Wh-what?'' he asked apprehensively.

``I just miss you when you go out for so long with Adras and the others. Or when I have to go out without you,'' Snow finally said. It was stated so boldly and with such clarity that the kitten could only stare at him in bewilderment.

``Miss me?''

``Yeah,'' Snow said, taking another sip from the firebrand, then offering the bottle to the kitten, who took his paw from the glyph puzzle this time and took a swig from it himself. He took almost a full shot, and coughed after putting it down.

``Shit...'' he muttered, his voice hoarse from the coughing. It probably had been too much after a not having anything to drink for some time. Had he not been around Snow, he would have been embarrassed at coughing from the strong drink. But around the Argonian, he felt less... guarded. His belly, already a little alit from the first sip, was positively on fire. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling at all. Quite the opposite, he felt the warmth spread from his stomach and up through him and into his extremities - even in his ears. Before he could suppress it, he felt a pleasant shiver wrack his body.

``What do you mean, `you miss me'?''

Snow took the bottle back and held it in his lap for a moment, looking down at the straw littered stone floor of the tower. ``I mean that I miss you,'' the Argonian repeated. The emphasis, however, wasn't missed. There was something unsaid in his tone. ``I like...'' he started slowly, and the Khajiit looked up, his attention fully on Snow at those two words. ``...being around you,'' Snow finished, staring at the kitten.

Maybe it took the strong, warm alcohol to give him the courage to say that. The Khajiit boy, for his part, felt the warmth in his ears only increase, and it wasn't just the firebrand. The people at Dunstad - they were friendly. He never felt unwelcomed, but this was something entirely different. New. He felt a sort of tingling nervousness in his stomach that had little to do with the drink. Almost absently, as if for something to do, he fiddled with the glyph puzzle. He had never heard that before.

Nerves had grasped his insides, his voice. The tingling in his stomach was joined with a tightness that he felt all over. Not only could he not think of a reply, he couldn't even think. He couldn't say anything. Everything was restricted as if a heavy block had fallen in the way of his thoughts. His mouth was open, about to form the words of a completely unformed thought, but he stopped. The greyish moonlight was slowly giving away to a different colour entirely. Looking up he saw, in the sky, a vibrant, shimmering sheet of colour, slowly forming as if from nothing. Reds, yellows, and oranges, bright and wondrous. Wavering like a curtain. It bathed the top of the tower in an ambient light, and his dark red fur almost blended in with it, making his own body difficult to see, even for him. He looked over to Snow, whose white scales had too been drenched in the warm light of the red aurora. The Argonian was looking up at the aurora just as he was, but, in that moment, they looked at one another.

Click. Rattle. Snap!

``...I got it open!''

*

The world was heavy. No, he was heavy. There were weights pulling him down, keeping him in place. He couldn't move or lift his head, arms, anything. Everything was dark; solidly so. But the blackness slowly started to resemble mist, and he was beginning to see through it. Like a haze, it parted, and his eyes opened. Everything around him was orange; his vision was so blurry. It felt, dimly, like he had gone through this before. But it was orange this time instead of white. The room he was in was warm. A fire was lit nearby. He was lying on his front. A whitish blur was above over him, gazing down at him.

``Snow..?'' he asked. His voice was scratchy and came out like sand, making him cough.

``No, you're inside,'' a voice came from above. ``Here, drink. Take it slow,'' it was saying, offering something.

The Khajiit rolled over to sit up on one of his arms, accidentally pulling on his long hair. Before he could take what was offered, however, he realised just how achy he was feeling. Almost every part of his body was hurting, and he moaned as he moved to take whatever was handed to him. It felt like a mug, warmer to the touch than the even air around him felt. The liquid was hot - not unbearably so, and pleasant. It was some kind of tea. That much he could tell. As he drank it, the Khajiit boy blinked blearily up at the white figure that he had taken for a white-scaled Argonian. It turned out, however, to be the face of a young Nord.

``You alright?'' the Nord asked softly, watching the kitten as he drank.

``Feel like every part of me's gotten the shit beat out of it,'' the feline boy managed to reply.

The boy offered a wan sort of smile. ``I can get you something for pain, hold on.''

``Wait,'' the Khajiit said before he got up, ``what's...'' he looked about the room and the question died in his throat. It looked similar to almost every other Nordic house he had ever `visited' in the Pale. Wooden walls with frosted windows bordering a thatched hay roof. And not much for decor. It was warm though, bathed in the orange glow of the nearby fire. He took everything in - not that there was much in the room - from the table in the corner where he could smell some kind of fishy smelling stew, to the shelf with little phials and bottles of this and that. A set of stairs that led downwards were on the other side of the room, opposite the bed, barred off by a wooden railing. As familiar as the layout and structure was, he didn't recognise anything. He definitely wasn't in Dunstad Grove.

The question may have faltered as he looked around, but the Nord boy seemed to catch on regardless. ``You've been out for a while,'' he said softly, watching the kitten as he gazed around the house. ``My uncle and I found you on the beach. You're in Winterhold right now,'' he added.

``Winterhold..?''

``Yeah. In Northeastern Skyrim,'' he said patiently.

``What day is it?''

``It's Turdas, the uhh... the sixteenth,'' the Nord replied, glancing up at small calendar book over the mantle. ``Of Morning Star,'' he added, seeing the slightly confused look on the Khajiit's face.

The kitten's brain felt foggy. That didn't really mean much to him. The only thing that came to him was a distant dread.

``I thought I was dead,'' he said abruptly; stupidly. Everything was still slow, groggy. The last thing he recalled was a sensation of falling, of being rattled so much his brains must have been dislodged through his ears.

``Close,'' the Nord boy said gently.

The kitten looked up at that, trying to fully take him in. His vision was returning, and blinking, he saw that the boy was fair skinned but with dark hair that went down behind him in a series of small plaits that he wore over his shoulder. It was an unusual hairstyle for a Nord boy, and perhaps he took too long trying to take it in, because the Nord tilted his head curiously. Maybe his mouth was hanging open and he looked like he had a question. Or stupid. He probably looked stupid.

``You were in the Sea of Ghosts,'' the boy said, a little slowly. The Khajiit boy shut his mouth for good measure. ``We thought you were dead, but, when we found you, you were just barely alive. Could hardly tell you were breathing. I think I managed to keep you...'' he added, trailing off with a sort of jerk of his shoulders.

The feline boy understood. Alive. This boy had kept him from dying.

``You a healer?'' he asked. The Nord boy seemed young, but then again, he didn't look much older than the Khajiit was himself.

``Yeah, and I can make some basic medicines and potions too. We're near the College so we can get more powerful things if I can't make them,'' he added.

``I didn't freeze?'' the Khajiit asked, confused.

``No. Not sure how that happened. We assumed you just hadn't been in the water that long. Guess it was good timing,'' he finished.

He had a wonder at that. Ignoring how his body protested, the Khajiit boy sat up with a pained grunt and scooted against the wall to drink the tea more easily. It tasted sweet, like snowberries. Although he was already feeling warm from the fire and being under the heavy fur blankets, the snowberry tea warmed him even more. It was a bit like Firebrand wine, only without the burning or the alcohol. The smell was rather pleasant too, with a vaguely floral aroma beneath the berries.

``Sorry, hold on, I'll get you some medicine,'' the boy said quickly after taking in the groans and pained expression of the kitten.

The memory of the last few days came to him as the Nord boy walked across the room. It wasn't like when he had been beaten unconscious and woke in the Thalmor's prison cart. This time it all flooded back to him. He just had to think about it. Of where he was. The inquisitor had managed to hit him and he must have been blown off the cliff. There was no other explanation for how he wound up on the coast of Winterhold when he had been travelling west in The Pale. But how could he have possibly survived that? Every part of his body ached, and that rattled sensation he could remember must have meant that he tumbled down the mountain, rather than been launched. Aside from the general unease from the pain, there were several places on him that throbbed in particular. Bruises unseen through his fur, no doubt.

He realised, looking down at his bare arms, that the ropes and metal chains had been removed along with the filthy sack. It suddenly occurred to him that he had been undressed. Though he was shirtless, the Khajiit boy was wearing a pair of trousers that he certainly hadn't been wearing when he was a captive. It might have been because he was so groggy, but he just hadn't noticed until that moment. There were bandages wrapped around his midriff, just under his ribs, and he felt a warm, gooey something against his back, beneath the fur. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, surprisingly. If anything, it was soothing. That had to have been where he had been hit...

``Here,'' the Nord boy said softly, jerking the Khajiit from his thoughts. He hadn't noticed the Nord climbing up the stairs on the other side of the room.

He was holding out a small glass phial full of a reddish liquid. It was glowing faintly, but the kitten recognised it right away by the scent before anything else: a faint smell of flowers and wheat; almost like an odd mixture of floral bread. It was definitely a potion; a medicinal draught that he actually knew how to make. A type that could both be reinvigorating and relieve pain at the same time.

``Can I ask your name?'' he asked as the Khajiit downed the medicine. The phial was barely a shot.

``What?'' he started before the question registered. ``Oh. It's E'kuun'dyao,'' the feline boy answered without thinking. Ignoring the other boy's mild befuddlement, it struck him that sharing his name might not be pertinent. But then again, this boy had taken him in and rescued him. That and he was fairly certain that the Thalmor didn't know him by name.

``Eekoowhat?'' he asked, grinning in an apologetic, embarrassed manner.

``Just E'kuun,'' the Khajiit boy said with the best grin he could muster. It felt faint, taught.

``Eekoon,'' the boy repeated, testing the sound of it, as if asking if he was pronouncing it right.

It was the sort of thing E'kuun would have normally found rude or irritating from almost anyone else, but the Nord boy was different. Most people in general, men and mer, disregarded his name if they even asked, preferring to just call him `cat.' But this boy wasn't making fun of his name or belittling him for his species; he was trying to get the pronunciation right. E'kuun gave the other boy a little nod.

``I'm Foresetti,'' he said, grinning.

It was a much more genuine thing than E'kuun could manage, and it was very nearly infectious. Not quite enough, though. He closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh, feeling relief from the fast acting medicine. It wasn't just the aches and pains that were feeling alleviated. In their absence, E'kuun registered, with surprise, that the headache that had been plaguing him for days was gone. He hadn't even woken up with it! A more genuine grin crossed the feline's face as the realisation hit him. It was finally gone.

``Feeling better?'' Foresetti asked, evidently happy at the effect his potion had on the kitten.

``Yeah, actually. What's on my back?'' The warm, oddly gooey substance beneath the bandage was strangely soothing, but E'kuun couldn't help but to feel a little gross whenever he shifted slightly and felt it press against his skin and through his fur.

``It's a poultice,'' Foresetti explained, ``mixed some of the same ingredients as that medicine you just drank with a bit of nirnroot and lavender for... well, we think you got hit by some kind of spell. There's a big patch of fur that's burned away and you've got a scar there.''

There was an unasked question in that statement. E'kuun took another drink of tea to avoid answering and handed the tiny potion phial back to the other boy. Foresetti was still surveying him as he took the jar and placed it on the shelf nearby. The unasked question seemed to burn from his gaze, but E'kuun had the feeling he was the quieter sort; the kind that don't push the subject if the other person didn't answer. Foresetti hadn't directly asked, after all.

``How long have I been here?'' the kitten asked after a few more gulps of tea. It really was making him feel better.

E'kuun's intuition about Foresetti seemed to be right: he didn't push the subject.

``About two days. We had Colette from the College come down to see if you were recovering. She's their healing specialist up there,'' Foresetti explained. ``She also said that was done some time before the uh, spell,'' he added somewhat nervously, gesturing at E'kuun's left eye.

E'kuun grunted in reply before taking another sip, mostly to keep from having to talk.

Two days. He had been unconscious for two days. He had wondered how long he had been out as a prisoner. It had only seemed like the next day, but it could have been longer. He had no idea; he hadn't kept a journal or calendar in Dunstad.

``You hungry?'' Foresetti asked, almost sounding timid, as if interrupting E'kuun's thoughts was rude of him. ``You haven't eaten in two days at least,'' he added.

Once it was asked, the question had awakened the hunger rumbling in E'kuun's stomach. For some reason, the hunger churning in his belly just hadn't registered. Maybe it had been a combination of waking up so groggy and being in so much pain. His mind was so busy trying to figure out what had happened and how he had arrived in Winterhold. He did feel the hunger, but his appetite hadn't been apparent until Foresetti brought it up.

``Y-yeah,'' E'kuun said, glancing at the Nord boy, ``I guess I am.''

Foresetti stood up from the wooden chair next to the bed and walked over towards the table on the other side of the room, returning with a wooden bowl full of that fishy smelling stew. E'kuun had the impression that Foresetti had been eating it before he woke up.

``It's nothing special, just some vegetables and salmon. We don't really get a lot of game out here,'' he added apologetically.

E'kuun didn't care. All he knew was that he was hungry. It could have been burnt skeever and he would have eaten it. Granted, he had had burnt skeever before. He accepted the offered bowl and spoon from Foresetti and began eating the stew. Seafood wasn't something E'kuun ever had too often, but he'd take it over starving. It wasn't particularly good, but that mattered very little.

Foresetti watched him as he ate and grinned a little at his expression.

``My uncle made it,'' he explained. ``I know it isn't great but we can only do so much with salmon.''

E'kuun shrugged by way of reply; too busy shovelling the bits of fish and vegetables into his mouth. He was so hungry that he even drank the rest of the broth in spite of the too-salty flavour. Luckily enough there was enough tea to wash it down.

An hour or so later the door opened and a much older Nord man entered the house, bringing with him a chilly gust that blew through the warm room. It was gone as quickly as it had come once the door shut behind him, but E'kuun still felt the chill creep through his fur. It made him shiver - he was still without a shirt. The man stood in front of the door, brushing all the snow off of his cloak. While he was shorter than most Nord men E'kuun had encountered, he at first seemed much larger due to the bulk of the heavy cloak and furs.

``Hey Alsf,'' Foresetti said as the man began removing layer after layer. ``Any luck?''

``'Fraid not. Whatever got a hold of Kraldar's cow has probably slunk off towards the ice. Bagged a hare, though.'' he mumbled, briefly gesturing with the carcass before turning to see E'kuun. He surveyed the Khajiit for a moment, making E'kuun suddenly feel self-conscious. He was sitting on this old Nord's bed without a shirt on.

``Ah, you're awake.'' His tone was not disapproving, but it was oddly stern with a mixture of amusement.

``He just woke up a couple hours ago,'' Foresetti said as Alsf moved towards the fireplace.

E'kuun gave a solemn nod and unconsciously crossed his arms over his chest. The chill wasn't merely from the snowy wind outside, but also the old man's gaze. He eyed the Khajiit momentarily as he tied the hare to a rack that hung from a wooden beam just above the mantle. E'kuun didn't like being scrutinised by anyone, let alone a Nord whose home he found himself occupying. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not the old Nord would tolerate him now he was awake. Thoughts raced through E'kuun's head - would this old man would kick him out now he was awake? Was it only because of the younger, kind Foresetti that he was allowed in this bed?

The Nord named Alsf was an old man, not much taller than his nephew. He was hunched over slightly, but there was a venerable gleam to his eye that he cast towards E'kuun. The hunting bow and quiver full of arrows did a lot to assuage the idea that this was just an ordinary old man. He had gone out hunting at his age, apparently after something capable of taking a cow.

``So,'' Alsfgrund said, grabbing a chair from the table. He sat down with a sigh and then looked to his Khajiit guest, the gleam strong in his eyes yet again. ``Are the Thalmor on their way to hunt you down?''

``What?'' E'kuun asked.

Lying had always come naturally to him. Feeling as vulnerable as he was, E'kuun could still pick up on the dry wit on display. Had he been serious, E'kuun might have faltered - at least a little. But he managed to feign a convincing bemusement.

The old Nord gestured up to the mantle of the fireplace, where an idol sat. It was the same shape as the amulet the Talos worshiper on the cart had worn.

``We here in Winterhold still hold to the traditions,'' Alsf said, ``Talos is our god. No elves are gonna stop us worshiping him. That is, unless they send their inquisition here looking for you.''

That was almost certainly an accusation. The grin on the old man's face was one of triumph and assuredness, rather than outright amusement. E'kuun looked to Foresetti, actually confused. The Khajiit boy knew how to play his cards. The confusion that he felt from Alsf figuring out what he had escaped from fuelled the false expression of bewildered concern.

``Alsf...'' Foresetti tried, but the old Nord persisted.

``Your hands were bound. You had a big scar on your back. Looked like it was from a lightning bolt. The Thalmor like their lightning magic. Saw plenty of it during the war. It isn't hard putting two'n'two together, cat,'' he finished with a tone that suggested there would be no arguing; that he had it figured out. Worse than that was his use of cat.

E'kuun glared at the old man, a story about trying to steal from an Imperial encampment because he was so hungry was quickly forming in his mind; they had battlemages and could have chased him to the coast. But Foresetti cut in almost immediately.

``E'kuun barely survived what happened, Alsf!'' he said in affronted tones. ``And if he was running from the Thalmor, then he's an ally to us faithful to Talos, even if he isn't himself. An enemy of those Altmer are a friend to us, right? That inquisitor that arrived at the College is only here for the College, not us. No one came looking in the houses, and he didn't have any sort of guards with him.''

The Nord boy had eyes only for his uncle, and his expression was surprisingly fierce. So much so that Alsf's smugness all but vanished, replaced with a softened expression. He turned to E'kuun, not with an apology, but with an outright question.

``We were wondering why your hands were bound when we found you,'' he said with a sigh, as if it made up for his rudeness. It didn't. Even if he was right...

``It isn't really any of your business,'' E'kuun replied quietly, his voice soft, still glaring at the old man.

He expected Alsfgrund to get angry, to say that he had offered him his home for two long days of recovery and that he was crossing a line with that. He was ready to be kicked out and to get away. As nice as Foresetti was, he doubted he could be around Alsf for very long without saying something far ruder. The old man eyed the young kitten for a time, and, between them, Foresetti seemed tense. Alsf's eyes bored into E'kuun's, looking at him hard. It wasn't a threatening stare-down, but something much more thoughtful. E'kuun didn't falter, and stared back. The Khajiit kitten expected something - some kind of anger, but not the response he got. A shrug.

``Well,'' Alsf said with a pause, ``You're right. It isn't my business. You can stay here until you're well enough to travel.''

E'kuun stared at the old man, actually shocked. Alsf stood up and made his way downstairs, and E'kuun turned his shocked expression to Foresetti.

 ``Don't worry about it,'' Foresetti said softly. ``Alsf fought in the Great War. He's a bit paranoid about the Thalmor and all of the anti-Talos talk. Some Altmer arrived the day after we brought you here. Alsf was in the Jarl's longhouse talking with the steward when the inquisitor came in, and he's been on edge ever since.''

``Oh,'' E'kuun said simply, frowning slightly.

``He went up to the College and hasn't come back yet, as far as I know,'' Foresetti added.

One unescorted inquisitor didn't seem like much. E'kuun had his doubts that the one that had imprisoned him and blown him off the cliff would come to search Winterhold all on his own. If he even survived the rest of that battle. Really, he'd expect the Thalmor to search the coast below the cliff, if anything.

E'kuun closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the wall. The aches from the bruises and the injuries were dull now thanks to the medicine. He guessed that the food and tea helped some, too. Without the headache clogging up his mind, though, he felt as if he could really suss out everything that had happened...

``Were you running from the Thalmor?'' Foresetti asked quietly. He seemed genuinely concerned.

E'kuun had never taken so well with someone as quickly as he did with Foresetti. Maybe it was because he had kept him from dying, but there was something about him that he liked. The Nord boy was quiet in a way - full of questions, yes, but he almost seemed as if he was afraid of being annoying with how he asked them. E'kuun rarely met anyone that talked to him the way he was. Like they were equals. Like he was worth someone's time. Maybe that's why the lie took a while to come out.

E'kuun shook his head. ``No...''

But how to explain his bound paws..?

``I was... arrested for stealing food,'' he said slowly, looking away. Neither men nor mer could really grasp feline expressions when they were faked, and the simple drooping of his ears seemed to have sold his story.

``Where?'' Foresetti asked incredulously.

``Stonehills.''

It was the closest town to Dunstad Grove; a grain of truth. Of a sort.

``That's... in The Pale, right? It's south of Dawnstar, near the mountain?''

``Something like that,'' E'kuun said, shrugging slightly.

``Why did they arrest you for that? You're not old enough for jail...'' he said, albeit uncertainly

``Yeah I am,'' E'kuun replied, managing his first genuine grin. ``Or they don't care. Repeat offender. I- I lived kind of... on the streets, you know? I'd sneak around the town from time to time for food.''

That wasn't a complete lie. Though Stonehills barely had enough buildings to qualify for a city with streets; it was mining village.

``How did you end up in Winterhold, then?'' he asked, concerned. ``Wouldn't they take you to Dawnstar or just put you in the prison at Stonehills?''

``They were gonna have me sit in the jail in Dawnstar, and eventually send me to the orphanage there,'' E'kuun explained.

``...So how did you end up getting a spell in your back?''

``W-well. I did a runner. One of the guards was a mage, and she had this light wooden club and some kind of shock spell. Idea was, if you tried running away, she'd bolt you and you'd get stunned, and not, well...'' he trailed off, leaving the implication aloft in the air for Foresetti to figure out. Coming to the conclusion himself would help make the story have strength, he felt.

``Anyway. I guess she put a little too much power behind it when she shot me with it, because I went flying and tumbled down the mountainside, right into the Sea of Ghosts. I must've drifted to Winterhold on the currents...''

With how Foresetti was staring, E'kuun feared that he had gone too far by explaining how he wound up on the beach. But after a moment filled with an incredulous state, he seemed to buy it.

``I think the fall hurt more than the shock,'' he said softly, cutting across the Nord boy's thoughts.

Before he could take it back, Foresetti gave him a curious expression.

``No, I think it was stronger than you think,'' he said slowly. ``I had to use a strong healing spell; not just what I'm used to whenever I help my uncle's pain. With a channeller and all. And then I put the poultice on for good measure. It was pretty bad,'' he added in a softer voice.

``A channeller?''

``I've got a rod for using magic, but it's cheap,'' he explained, gesturing to a crudely carved piece of driftwood on the mantle of the fireplace that E'kuun had taken for a walking stick before.

``Mm... I don't really remember feeling the shock,'' E'kuun invented.

``It might have knocked you out... who knows?'' Foresetti offered sympathetically.

``Yeah. ...Hey,'' E'kuun began, but faltered.

It wasn't something he could explain easily, but asking more from the kind Nord boy was difficult. It felt rude somehow to request anything of him after he had done so much. Foresetti looked to E'kuun inquisitively, so he pressed on.

``Can... can you- do you have any clothes I can wear? Other than the trousers, I mean. I- I don't really like just... my fur,'' he muttered awkwardly.

``Oh, sure,'' he said, standing up and walking over to a wardrobe near the bed. ``Those are actually some of my old pants,'' he said as he perused the wardrobe. ``I don't think these fit me anymore,'' he said slowly as he produced a long-sleeved, light red shirt and an accompanying pocketed vest. ``You can just wear the shirt.''

E'kuun moved to stand up, but his body protested. An ache wracked through him. His legs felt weak and incredibly sore from both disuse and the injuries. Had it not been for the medicine, he might not have been able to stand. But, after a bit of trouble, he managed it. Holding onto the heavy bookshelf next to the bedside table to steady himself, he took a precarious stumble forward.

``E'kuun, what're you doing?!'' Foresetti exclaimed.

``Standing?'' the kitten cried in return, startled by Foresetti's sudden reprimand.

It was as if Foresetti had caught him getting ready to dive off the cliff again, his voice was so stern. Not only was it the first time he had addressed E'kuun by name, it was the first time he said something to him in anything other than a gentle, quiet tone. Dropping the clothes onto the bed, he rushed over and helped E'kuun to sit back down.

``I can stand,'' he protested as the bigger boy gently guided him back onto the bed. E'kuun flicked his tail to the side for good measure so it wouldn't be sat on. ``How am I supposed to put them on sitting down?''

``It's a shirt,'' Foresetti said simply, offering it out to him. ``You put it on over your head. Arms go through these holes. You don't need to be standing.''

E'kuun took the shirt from him with a small growl. He hadn't quite expected Foresetti to speak with such cheek, and, privately, he found it amusing. Enough so that he wasn't irritated by the mollycoddling. Though he did fight to keep the smirk off his face.

``I didn't need to stand, I wanted to,'' E'kuun explained exasperated as he pulled the shirt over his head. ``My legs are so weak,'' he added quickly, realising he had been rude.

Foresetti opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but closed it.

``You're not thinking about leaving already?'' he asked finally.

``I- well, I probably should...'' E'kuun mumbled almost inaudibly.

While Foresetti's uncle had said that E'kuun was welcome to stay until he was better, he really didn't want to push it and stay much longer. He hadn't even had any time to think things over yet.

``You can barely stand,'' Foresetti pointed out.

``I- I know,'' E'kuun muttered. ``I think I need to sort of- c-could you let me alone for a little?'' E'kuun finally managed to ask, not quite meeting Foresetti's eyes.

``Yeah, sure. I can go talk to Alsf about how the hunt went. I might go to bed, actually, unless you need anything?''

E'kuun shook his head. He was surprised; Foresetti didn't seem offended or upset in the slightest.

``We're just downstairs, so, just call out. And uh, we'll hear it if you try and leave. The boards creek.''

Again, E'kuun was surprised. Foresetti gave him another grin and made his way downstairs.

It was silent. Night had already begun to fall outside by Alsfgrund's return and the fire had begun to dwindle slightly, darkening the room. The heavy frosted glass bordering the thatched roof and wooden walls was blackened. Too opaque for any starlight to seep in, they drew E'kuun's eyes as they grew darker and darker with snow.

He had been lost in thought for some time now. Not really thinking clearly or coherently; more in a daze of sorts. Focusing was difficult, and it was with dull, irritable dread that the mild pang in his head returned, offering constant protest. As were the memories that his brain kept forcing him to dwell on.

He didn't know who had survived that night other than him. And the whole thing had been entirely his fault. E'kuun's heart sank with utter despair and dread whenever that night resurfaced in his mind. And it had done over and over, ever since Foresetti went to bed hours before.

E'kuun had never had a proper home. Not really. He had moved around so much, even when he was a much younger kitten. No place had ever felt like a home; just places to spend the dark hours. Restless, anxious spells of drifting in and out of troubled sleep. Always worrying about looming threats around him. An orphanage, the decrepit, filthy warrens, the streets. They had never been places of comfort or solace. Always interludes between stress and work. Never safe, calm places.

Dunstad Grove was the first place he had ever felt remotely safe. A village around an old fort, it had been remote, secluded in the Pale as it was. Stonehills had always been the more important settlement in the area, and the few soldiers the jarl could spare wound up there. With less than a token of the jarl's men to patrol the village, the sellswords led by Adras were the main authority there. No one cared about Dunstad Grove. And then those guards had just allowed the Thalmor in. Let them kill everyone in the fort. They weren't members of a bandit clan; Adras' men were a proper group of sellswords. They had been, anyway. They were wiped out. Were gone. He had ruined everything. And no one would care. Not about the sellswords that offended the Aldmeri Dominion. Not about his kind Argonian friend. The Orc who showed E'kuun how to use daggers and a bow. Nor the brave Dunmer man who had taught E'kuun so much.

And no one would ever care about him. If the Thalmor caught up with him again, it was all over. Absolutely no one in the province would give a skeever's fart for what would happen to him, a stranger in his own land of birth.

E'kuun felt a burning in his eyes. Blinking, he realised that he had been staring at the window, not even seeing it. Gathering the fur blanket up to his chest, the Khajiit boy huddled inwardly, squeezing the furry mass to himself, eyes shut tight. A pain welled up inside of him. Different from the migraine and very unlike the injury on his back. It wracked through him as he recalled everyone he had let down. Every face he knew; every name and every friend. Realising that he would never be able to see them again. Never return to the secluded, snowy fort with pockets full of ill-gotten gems or coins from Stonehills or Dawnstar. He wouldn't again see pride in anyone's eyes when he drew a particularly good catch.

Awash with guilt and shame, E'kuun's body tensed. His breathing came in rapid, staggering sobs, and his claws dug into the furred blanket.

What could he possibly do now?

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