Author's Notes:

Holy piss, has this been forever and a half.

I am sorry for everyone I left waiting on The Kitten and The Wolf. It was an unfair amount of time to wait, but then again, you are reading this for free... so, here we are. A year and some later, but we're FINALLY continuing the story. I hope you all enjoy this new installment of this series, and if you are just finding it for the first time, might I direct you to seek out the first story for some FarkasxKhajiit Dragonborn goodness.

I don't own Skyrim

Mixing Beastblood
Chapter One – News from Abroad

There was something about a rhythm of work that pleased Di'kana, soothed her, to the point that the world around her seemed to simply vanish. In the rise and fall of an ax, the splitting of logs and the setting of fresh ones, she could toil away for hours without complaint. It was a task in which she could be wholly self-involved, aware only of her breathing, the ax in her hands, and the feel of her body as muscles of her core and arms worked together to heft and chop, over and over and over again.

When there was no one to train with, this was how she wiled away the time. She'd start her day chopping the wood for Jorrvaskr's ever burning fire, ensuring there was no shortage of logs for the wide-open pit that warmed the hall and roasted their meat. Then, when there was not a log left whole, she went on to the Bannered Mare to do the same. She requested no coin for the service; it was a way to build up her strength after she'd spent so long letting her ribs heal, waiting until stabbing pain turned to lingering soreness and it was time to build her strength back up to where it had been before. It was her rehabilitation, swinging a wood-chopping ax in place of her war hammer, and doing it every day.

Standing just outside the Bannered Mare, she found herself learning more about Whiterun. Before, she'd mostly known it through the merchants she interacted with. She knew the alchemy shop, though she failed to remember the proprietress's name. There was the general goods store, the woman who ran the produce stand- but when she was standing there, day in, day out, chopping wood until there was no wood left to chop, she realized there was more to Whiterun than those select places. There were arguments between neighbors, and children at play. There were traders, yes, but also friends, and families, living their lives one day at a time. Every now and again, she'd see one of these people look up at her where she split her logs. She would smile, but she wondered if they recognized the expression on her feline face... the only ones who approached to speak to her, after all this time, were the children.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you doing it?"

"Do you want to play with us?"

She'd explained as well as she could, and though they thought she talked funny, there was understanding in her task. Nord children understood the hard work it took to become a warrior, after all. As for play... perchance, once or twice, she'd abandoned her ax to entertain a game of hide and seek. These kits likely didn't realize it, but she herself was maybe only six or seven summers older than them, and she still enjoyed these games... and it gave her a chance to teach the young and less prejudiced how to sneak without being accused of being a thief.

For weeks, swinging the ax, watching the people, entertaining the children, this was her recovery. There were other things in-between; training with Aela and Vilkas when they had the time. Even Skjor, who appeared so hard-bitten and stern, took the time to coach her through her injury and support her healing. Lydia dropped by from time to time, too, though mostly to talk and listen, and ensure her Thane was not losing her mind with boredom.

Of course, there was one other who'd been looking after her as well.

"Are you going to go and chop down all the trees when they finally run out of logs for you to split?"

A rough and teasing voice brought her ears to perk, and her head to follow shortly after. The smile that appeared was undeniable, one that made her bright blue eyes squint for it's breadth across her face. "This one thinks that shall not be necessary. There is no fatigue with this task anymore."

Farkas was making his way up the steps, over to where she'd been splitting logs. As always, he was fully dressed in his armor, but the smell of him hinted that he'd just returned from some job or another. Sweat, blood, the salty scent of travel food like jerky and dry, crusty bread. Every time he was sent off to do work for the Companions, whether he was gone for hours or days, he always did this- he always came to see her first, no matter where she was. Before he removed his armor for cleaning and repair, before he even stopped to polish and oil his blade, he was here, checking in on her.

"Then maybe it's about time they give you your warhammer back." Farkas smirked.

"Vilkas says soon." She nodded, abandoning her spot and coming to meet him, though not as she would have liked. Internally, there was a desire to embrace him, to reach out and clutch him to herself as if he were more dear to her than life- but she did not.

No, not where so many eyes might see.

"Where did you go this time?"

"All the way to Riften; bandits snatched a kid up off of the road, parents paid a hefty sum to get him back. Only had to crack a few skulls before the group gave the kid up- less of a challenge than I wanted, really."

"Tch, you were bored? Next time, you stay and split logs and this one will go kill child-snatchers."

"Maybe next time we can go together?" While his words were simple, his smile suggested an escape from the prying eyes of the crowd. Skyrim, after all, had such grand expanses of wilderness where they would be beyond anonymous... not that he minded. He feared no judgment. It was Di'kana that had demanded discretion, unsure of whether it was right for others to know that they were together.

The mere thought made her purr, trying to cover it with a chuckle. "Maybe so... you should head on. Report in."

"Trying to get rid of me?" Teasing, always teasing her, and yet it made her feel warm rather than annoyed... as well as regretful that she was still afraid to be more open.

"No, but-"

"Di'kana?"

Another voice broke it's way in, making the Khajiit girl look up. Standing on the steps to the Bannered Mare, one of the Whiterun guards stood, addressing her and causing Farkas to step back and clear the line of sight.

"Yes?" She responded, stepping forward, ears perked in curiosity, head cocked slightly. "Is something wrong?" She couldn't think of anything she'd done of late that would upset the guards or give them reason to speak to her. When within Whiterun, she made sure to take particular care to be polite to the guards and observe the law to it's most technical letter. She was Thanehere, after all. To her, that meant conducting herself properly, as she thought it was right to do... even if certain Khajiit would have found her odd for observing rules so closely.

"There's a caravan Khajiit requesting to come into the city to see you. He says it's urgent. We usually don't let them in, but if you vouch for him..."

"Ri'saad?"

Di'kana quested after the Khajiit's name, her expression changing in an instant. She went from curious to intent, eyes wide and her shoulders tensed, as if she were about to pounce upon something.

"Yes, Thane."

"Yes, please. Guide him to this one's home, please, and tell him he will be met soon with all hospitality." As she spoke, she took a few gold pieces from a pouch in her tunic, approaching the guard and pressing them into his hand. "Treat him kindly, he is this one's most esteemed guest."

"Ah- y-yes, miss." The guard seemed confused, unsure if the money that had just been pressed into his palm was a bribe or a tip or just gratitude born of excitement. All the same, her words sent him on his way rather hastily, and left her to stand there, tail twitching with hardly-contained energy. Again, her expression changed. What had been shocked, surprised, turned inward to musing thought. Ears twitched back and forth as lips pursed together, her pink nose working as if the air itself might contain answers for her.

"What was that about?" Farkas asked, staring after the guard and then looking to the young Khajiit girl.

Di'kana did not answer right away, still thinking, right ear flicking as her arms crossed over her chest a moment. Hesitation lasted a few seconds longer, and then she looked to him.

"This one's... my... my family."

The words carried shock. She had trouble believing it, but still, the counter had happened. Farkas had seen the guard as well, heard him. She'd not given gold coins to empty air, after all. No, no, he'd come and go, and Ri'saad would be heading for her home all too soon.

"You said you got separated from your family."

"Near three seasons ago." She agreed, nodding. "We were traveling Cyrodil's borderlands, on our way to Hammerfell. Not our usual route, but father had agreed to transport special goods to another caravan working in that area. Originally, this one was to be left behind, with the sword master, to train until their return- this one was still too raw to be a caravan guard... then the sword master agreed to come along, travel with us, protect the goods. Better training on the road. This one would learn to walk with armor, build up strength, endurance. Then..."

She quieted. She'd told Farkas before, how she'd ended up lost. She'd fallen behind picking up alchemy ingredients, plucking mountain flowers along Skyrim's border. In her haste to catch up with the group, she'd taken the wrong road and run into a border patrol... that had been waiting for Ulfric Stormcloak. All in a horrifying moment she, Ulfric, a follower of him, and some hapless horse thief had all been snapped up by the Imperial garrison and carted off for execution.

Said execution had been interrupted by a dragon before she met her end on the headsman's block, but the memory of the ax still came back to her now and again in nightmares.

"This one asked Ri'saad send messages, to find out where my family went. If they searched for Di'kana, entered Skyrim, or not. To seek this one out if he heard anything."

"Asked?"

"With appropriate compensation, of course."

"Of course..." Farkas nodded slowly. "So he's here, asking for you, that must mean he heard something. You should be happy, right?"

"... this one does not know if she wants to hear what was heard." She admitted. "What if it is bad?"

"Then you'll know the truth and you can stop guessing." Farkas's words were blunt, but honest. She looked to him, still unsure, but nodded slightly. He was right. Good or bad, whatever came, it would be her first news after nearly a year of living in Skyrim. Whatever it was, she would rather know than not.

"... will you come with me?"

It was a quick question, asked in a quiet voice that didn't want to admit she was afraid. She knew he had to report in, that he had things to do, but she suddenly felt as if walking down the hill to her house was far too difficult.

He didn't seem to understand why she'd ask for that. He gave her a look, confused and questioning, brow knitting together before he found himself with a befuddled smile. Approaching her, he put a hand on her shoulder. "If you want it, I'm there... donno what you want me to do, though."

"Be there." She muttered. It made little sense, but she wanted it. A silent support, maybe; she simply knew she'd feel better if he was there with her.

"Then let's go, kitten. Sounded like this was urgent."

To call Lydia surprised when her mistress suddenly entered the house would be an understatement of massive proportions. Di'kana, after all, had been spending her nights at Jorrvaskr since being accepted among the Companions, leaving the Housecarl to her duties of simply keeping her mistress's home until she returned, be that in months or years. However, surprised did not mean displeased- instead, she found herself with a smile as the young Khajiit woman let her self in, pushing the door wide and followed immediately after by a large man- Farkas. Lydia recognized him from the last time he'd been here. The circumstances had been much more dire then, Di'kana unconscious, carried upon his back after she'd passed out from exhaustion and pain.

It was good to see them both enter under their own power, but Di'kana was upset. Ears flicking, tail twitching, her eyes going this way and that in anxiety and agitation. Lydia abandoned her current task of hanging herbs from the rafters to dry, and quickly snapped to attention. "My Thane- what can I do for you?"

"Whatever is in the larder, Lydia, bring out our best and freshest. Quickly." Di'kana responded in an instant. "Do we still have the mulled wine this one bought in Solitude?"

"Ah- yes, of course. May I ask the occasion?" She glanced between Farkas and Di'kana, expecting some kind of announcement.

"Ri'saad has news, he is coming." Di'kana answered, dashing whatever image that Lydia had been building in her mind and making the woman's face flicker with confusion before surprise took over, realizing what this meant. Unlike Farkas, she was much more informed on the meaning of Ri'saad's visit.

"I will prepare the welcome, you may decide to change."

Di'kana looked at her rather common tunic before swearing softly; Lydia was right. Her clothes smelled of work, hard labor. Not that Ri'saad cared for her presentation, but if any news passed through the caravans, she wanted the word to be of how she was doing well for herself. If, by some incredible chance, her family heard of her, she wanted them to hear that she was thriving and generous to her friends, that she had taken to her adult life with finesse and grace.

The question was, did she have the time to change into clean clothes? She glanced to Farkas, who appeared helpless. She shook her head, heading upstairs and taking them two at a time, leaving the man standing there and utterly lost on what to say or do. After a few seconds, he decided the safer route was to follow after Lydia, and see if he could be of any help in the food and drink department. When it came to coverings, if it wasn't armor, he didn't know much about it... food on the other hand? That, he could handle, and he did want to help.

Why she was rolling out the red carpet for some merchant, he'd learn later. For now, there was busy-work of bringing out good cheese and fresh bread, fresh fruits and spiced, dried meats, particularly fish. Spiced wine was poured, and Lydia made the two seats before the fire ready for her mistress and the coming guest. When Farkas offered his hands in assistance, he was quickly charged with re-arranging a small table in the corner to sit between those chairs, so it could be loaded with food and drink that would be close at hand during whatever discussion was about to occur.

It appeared that Di'kana, despite accepting that she might never see her family again, had been keeping her home ready for this moment for quite some time. A lingering hope, however unlikely, that she'd prepared for.

By the time she returned downstairs, everything had been made ready. Lydia stood at the ready behind it all, in case her mistress had any last-second corrections that needed to be attended to. Farkas had been on the verge of heading upstairs to see if she needed any help, and instead was the first to see her as she descended the stairs.

Eyes widened a little upon viewing her. She'd traded her common tunic for fine blue robes that protected from the cold and accented the intense color of her eyes. Her tail, which might have been constrained by such a thing, had instead found its way through a specially made hole in the garment, freely swaying back and forth with her gait. Upon her head, a circlet of silver and sapphire rested. The long silver hair on her head was allowed to tumble loose, rather than braid it was usually contained within, and forming waves about her shoulders. For maybe the first time, the amulet around her neck was displayed freely, simply another part of the outfit she wore that made her look like a lady of the realm instead of a warrior.

Farkas wasn't sure how he felt about that, but there was no denying that she was beautiful. He stepped aside as she came down the stairs, and looked over what Lydia had done. She gave a nod of approval, and none too soon- there was a knock at the door.

"Lydia, Farkas- conduct yourselves as friends. Ri'saad should not think you servants."

"What does that mean?" Farkas quested as she went to answer the door.

"It means eat." Lydia answered, turning herself to the table towards the back of the room that was also set with food- something Farkas hadn't noticed in the rush to prepare the living room. However, as Lydia seated herself on the bench and began to help herself to some of the spiced wine that had been brought out, he opted to stand instead after taking a hunk of bread into his hand.

The door opened upon another Khajiit- a male who stood maybe six or seven inches taller than Di'kana, with fluffy fur about his face that seemed like a half-formed mane, kept groomed and trimmed like a humanoid man would keep a beard. He was a mix of colors from creamy white to brown and black, with dark eyes that smiled upon Di'kana greeting him at the door... though she used no words that Farkas knew. No, they were speaking in their native tongue, it seemed, while Di'kana motioned him in and he passed over the threshold with a gracious bow of his head.

This was Ri'saad. Farkas had met him a few times; a trader that made camp outside of the walls because his caravan wasn't allowed inside. Good prices, if a little too polite. He was the kind of friendly that made people suspicious.

The pair of cats took their seats, sharing a dense conversation the moment the door was shut behind Ri'saad's tail. They might have looked like a pair of merchants, Ri'saad's robes no less fine than Di'kana's, similarly decorated in a way that suggested at least modest wealth. Watching them, Farkas found himself noticing layers of expression. There were facial expressions, but there was also hand gestures, flicks of ears, motions of tails, even twitches of noses. To see a pair of Khajiit, speaking their mother tongue, was something that made him realize there was a great deal more to language than just words. Ri'saad was unfamiliar to him, hard to read, but he knew Di'kana to an extent. He could see when she was curious, when her ears perked forward and the tip of her tail twitched, when she emphasized a request with a push of her palms at the air and a pleading openness of her eyes. From her, he could understand some tiny sliver of this exchange... and it worried him.

Di'kana had been hopeful, at first. Ears up, eyes wide. Within a few moments, however, her ears fell. They didn't flatten to her head like they did when she was angry, instead they simply slumped to the sides, upset and shocked. Ri'saad appeared to be trying to comfort her, but it looked to be having little effect, his words serving only to distress her more as he took a mug of the offered wine.

Then her ears flattened to her head, and became angry. Her brow furrowed, and her tail fluffed. In this portion of the exchange, Farkas understood one word.

Skooma.

When she angered, he found himself tensing. Ready to act if she decided Ri'saad was no longer welcome.

It didn't come to that, though. Her ears perked again, and what might have sunken into growling became a renewed enthusiasm. As they spoke at length, Ri'saad reached out, and put a hand over hers- reassurance? Possible. It looked like an uncle trying to calm a niece, or similar familial comfort. There was a faint sense of a culture that Di'kana could have been a part of, had she chosen it.

Farkas wondered why she hadn't. She'd been trained as a caravan guard- why hadn't she just taken up arms for some other Khajiit caravan? From the way Ri'saad reached out to her, it appeared that he would have welcomed her. Why had she sought family among a people who, more often than not, misjudged her kind?

Things he would have to ask her, another time. For the moment, their conversation continued, and Farkas finally had a seat by Lydia. A tankard of that spiced wine would help pass the time as the two cats discussed their business over cheese and smoked meats and what had to be at least a whole bottle of the mulled wine by the time they were done. Nearing what Farkas sensed to be the end, a pouch of coin was passed from Di'kana to Ri'saad, one he peered into for a moment before nodding, showing that whatever she'd given him was acceptable. Then the pair of them stood, and she showed him to the door, bidding him goodbye in their own language.

When the door closed behind him, Di'kana's ears fell along with her head, slumped down before her shoulders while her body leaned upon the door. As if she were suddenly too heavy to support herself, she languished there for several moments, eyes closed and her limbs left hanging like vines from a tree.

"That bad, huh?" Farkas was the first to break the silence.

"... not terrible. Not great." Di'kana reported with a long sigh, rubbing her head against the door. If she didn't feel so exhaust, she might have beat her skull against the timbers, but that wasn't the case. No, she felt tired, so incredibly tired.

"What did he say?" Lydia quested, standing up from the table and showing that she'd understood nothing of the conversation either.

"Ri'saad reached out as this one asked, sent messages along the other caravans that he wanted information about anyone who had lost a kit in Cyrodil. Word has come back that there is a caravan at the Skyrim border, trying to cross to search for a lost child, but the border guards are not allowing it... rumor claims it is because they were found with skooma in their cargo."

"... I don't understand. This sounds like your group, doesn't it? Isn't this good?" Farkas asked.

"My family does not deal in skooma!" She spat viciously, coming alive from where she'd laid her head heavily upon the door. "No skooma, no moonsugar, father never allowed it, no matter how much was offered! No drugs, no thieving- it... it can't be them."

All at once, her anger gave way to despair. Bristled tail and flattened ears couldn't hold, instead collapsing against the timbers of the wall once more like the whole of Tamriel sat upon her shoulders. Nose turned up towards the rafters, staring up and away from her shield-brother and her Housecarl.

"What if it is?" Lydia prodded.

"Father wouldn't. He forbade even talking about it. Mother, too. She was addicted when she was younger, before this one was born. It made her weak... it is why this one is an only-child. Mother was not strong enough to have another."

"You said your father was moving special cargo for a friend." Farkas pointed out. "Did you know what it was?"

"No." Her response was stiff. Short. Not wanting to think about it. The idea that her family would even touch such things, that they'd still be carrying it- no, no, no-

"... I asked Ri'saad to try to get more information." She finally said after much deliberation. "Either he will confirm, or disprove. Until then, there is nothing to be done."

"Nothing?" Lydia quested, uncomfortable with the idea that all they could do was wait.

"Not quite nothing." Farkas disagreed, finding himself with an out-of-place smile. It was sudden, sure that it would come as unexpected to Di'kana. It got her to look away from the ceiling and to him, questioning him from the pit of her misery.

"We can get you back to work."