Thousands of years before the events of Skyrim, in a land known as Elsweyr, there lived a small tribe of Khajiit. Living a life of thievery, the agile forest cats were able to live in luxury, despite their homes being made of pelts and wearing stolen, ragged clothes. Among these cats, in one of the small forts atop a tree, was the chief's wife in labor. It was a momentous day for the Khajiit as they gathered around at the base of the tree, looking up expectantly. The chief of the tribe, Ri'Baars, clutched his wife's paw tightly and murmured encouraging words to her as she gave birth to their first born. Jo'Rakha, the shaman, quickly wrapped the newborn cub in a warm pelt before examining the child in his arms. Ri'Baars looked up at him with happiness in his amber eyes as the shaman smiled at him.
"It is a girl, my chief," Jo'Rakha said quietly before handing her to her exhausted mother. Her husband redirected his attention to her and his new daughter.
"Kisharna," he purred proudly, "what shall we name her?" Kisharna held the quiet cub close to her chest as she thought carefully.
"Almaria," she finally decided. "Her name is Almaria." Ri'Baars nodded his head in agreement.
"It is a beautiful name." He looked at Jo'Rakha again. "She will be a great thief, just as her ancestors before her." The shaman hesitated slightly when he looked at Almaria's sleeping form.
"Yes, she will be a great Khajiit." Kisharna and Ri'Baars' happiness blocked out Jo'Rakha's suspicious movements.
Eighteen years passed as the leaders saw their daughter quickly grow up into a beautiful, young Khajiit. The tribe's swampy forest home had become her own as she learned how to maneuver through the branches that towered above her; her sensitive ears had learned how to pick up the silent sounds of the birds flying above and the bugs that crawled along the ground. Everything that a Khajiit should master, Almaria was learning faster than most did, and for that Ri'Baars couldn't be prouder. One day while Almaria was out of camp, Jo'Rakha hesitantly approached the chief.
"Ri'Baars, you and I need to discuss Almaria," he quickly muttered, knowing the future outcome of this conversation. Ri'Baars looked at him with suspicion, but the nervous shaman continued. "I never told you this, but I believe that there is something different about her." The chief's black fur immediately stood on end.
"What in the name of Rajhin are you talking about?" he growled, causing Jo'Rakha to flinch. "Almaria is a perfect Khajiit. She has even just left to go raid one of the neighboring villages!" The shaman put his paws up in defense, not wanting to evoke his leader's wrath any more than he was now.
"Please, listen," he tried reasoning. "I should have told you and Kisharna the day she was born."
"What should you have told us?" Kisharna was suddenly behind the two males in the pelt tent, and Jo'Rakha could sense a strong sense of wonder and suspicion emanating off of the female. Once she was positioned beside her husband, he continued.
"Kisharna, Ri'Baars, I believe that Almaria is not really a thief." Ri'Baars let out a powerful growl and bared his teeth in anger.
"How can you accuse her of not being a thief?" he questioned. "Every time she has come back from a raid, she always has something that benefits our tribe!" Kisharna placed a gentle paw on his shoulder and waited for him to calm down before looking at the nervous Khajiit in front of her, and nodded at him to continue.
"But that is just the thing, my chief. She never goes on raids with others; she only goes by herself. I think that she just finds something from the forest and brings it back here." He looked down nervously. "Do you remember the day the giant spider attacked our camp?"
Ri'Baars' ears lowered slightly as he remembered that day two years ago. The cats had been forced up into the trees, defenseless, as a giant spider invaded the camp and almost destroyed everything. Luckily, no one had been hurt. "Yes, I remember. What does it have to do with anything?"
"I remember how the spider almost destroyed our home because no one could do anything. The only member not among us was your daughter. She was down on the ground, fighting the beast."
"But some of our members have been trained to fight," Kisharna brought up, but Jo'Rakha still frowned.
"Not like her. It looked like the Great Alkosh had given her the strength and the courage to fight that spider." Ri'Baars held up his paw for him to stop.
"Jo'Rakha, I understand your concern," he said slowly, clearly calmer than he was before. "But she is our daughter. Being a chief's daughter is a big responsibility in itself. She was just blinded by the fact that she needed to protect her tribe." Before Jo'Rakha could say anything else, Ri'Baars and Kisharna proceeded to exit the tent. "She is my daughter, she will be the future chief, and she is and always will be a great thief." As the shaman was left alone in the pelt tent, his ears lowered as he remembered the first day Almaria had opened her eyes. The sight of her bright blue eyes had sent such a shock through Jo'Rakha's body that he had almost collapsed.
"No Khajiit has ever had blue eyes," he muttered to himself as he recalled all of the times he had encountered amber, gold, yellow, auburn, brown, hazel, and even green, but never blue. He will never forget the supernatural sensation that coursed through him as she stared at him for the first time. Ri'Baars would never understand what Jo'Rakha had felt. Something was different about this Khajiit, and he would find out what.
"Your form has been getting better, Almaria." A deep voice interrupted the silent swings of steel swords slicing through the air. As Almaria turned around, smiling her signature toothy grin, a dark brown Khajiit with piercing yellow eyes appeared behind her.
"Thank you, Do'Tsaar," she said happily as she placed her swords back into their sheaths. "I do not know what I would have done if you had not made these swords for me." Do'Tsaar placed a paw behind his head in embarrassment.
"I am just happy I am no longer the only member of our tribe with a secret." As he quickly tossed Almaria a piece of bread, she sat down on a nearby log and thought about how much help her friend had provided for her. Do'Tsaar had lived three extra years than she had, so he was still young, but like herself he had no desire to be a thief. When she had finished her snack, Almaria unsheathed one of the swords to admire it.
"I must say, despite having to learn on your own, you make an amazing blacksmith," she praised. This fact was true; Do'Tsaar had taught himself how to forge weapons from daggers to swords, and Almaria had tested every single one of them.
"Well, you were practically born to be a warrior," Do'Tsaar replied. Almaria's whiskers twitched into a smile as she silently swung the weapon around to separate a branch from the trunk of a tree. Almaria didn't know it, but Jo'Rakha's hunch about her was correct. She hated the idea of stealing, but loved the thrill and excitement of swinging not one, but two swords through the air. While the female Khajiit went back to practicing her form, Do'Tsaar retreated back into the woods only to appear a few seconds later. Almaria looked up curiously before she loudly purred with delight and gave her friend a hug.
"I hope it works," he said sheepishly. "It is my first time making a bow and arrows." Almaria carefully took the new weapon out of his paws and slowly caressed her claws over the smooth wood, adjusting to the new feel. She then picked up an arrow, feeling the weightlessness as she held it up to her eyes and stared down to the point. Without saying a word, she positioned herself to shoot. Her form didn't last long as her arm muscles screamed for her to stop.
"Do'Tsaar, will you go make a target for me out of that tree trunk?" she asked, trying to find a suitable position to hold the new bow. Do'Tsaar nodded and ran to a tree about twenty feet away. Using the dagger he kept hidden under his rags, he quickly carved circles into the trunk for Almaria to aim at. When he was finished, he ran back.
Despite having years of practice with swords, it took a while for Almaria's arms to build up enough strength to even pull back the arrow without them starting to ache. The first few times that she tried to shoot it at the newly made target, she missed heavily, but after a few more tries she was getting the hang of it. On some days, she wouldn't even shoot anything. She would just stand for hours at a time pulling the arrows back and holding the position. The warrior practiced this technique everyday for two months before she finally shot the arrow into the center of the carved-out target.
