Up around that time, Kenil hadn't been doing much. Of course, if you asked him, he'd say just the opposite. The world, according to him, had been filled up twice with the blood of the infernal dragon, slayed by Kenil himself. And, according to him, he had already gone to see the palace and Vivec himself fawned over his mysterious yet utterly dominating powers. He had proclaimed vengeance on the almighty Melhoon Dragoon (again, purely according to him), and had coupled with (and saved) many mistresses of the awed Emperor Septim. Then, he was granted Lord of the Western Provinces, Lord of the high elves, Lord of the dead, Lord of all magicka and pretty women. He was a precocious child (on some level). But then, a girl named Sierra dropped in, and things miraculously changed…

- Melvin III, scribbling beside Lake Tulsa

It rained the day the girl whispered a peep. The sick child hadn't eaten for two days. If there were a person they could ask for help, they couldn't find one. A day ago, Granther had made a trip to the local Omanis but can back empty handed. Granther simply said there was a really bad case of blight in the area, and the Omanis would see anyone until the Ash-Chancre had subsided, not even the local milk boy.
So when the girl woke up blushing red, Arcata and Granther were much relieved. When she did wake up, it was through a series of soft coughs. Arcata was already there with soup to welcome her and ask questions about her origin. Seconds later, the rest of the family stood around Uncle Gul's bed with bad enough curiosity to eat her. The girl was black eyed and had pout lips, or so Kenil noticed himself staring.

The conversation followed: Where are you from? Her mouth opened but her eyes went blank, as if remembering a distant dream. She whispered in a shallow voice, but her words didn't least open any holes in the mystic cloak: I don't know.

What is your name?

I don't know.

That led to the end of the clueless dialogue. Arcata kept by her side all the time a cup of warm Cranberry tea, native to the region, while Granther remained dispassionate about the girl in question. It was Kenil, who peeked through the hospitality of Arcata, and the inundating curiosity of Uncle Gul, and saw for his first time a child of the female gender. Little did he show his great curiosity, and the reaction he was overwhelmed by, one might have supposed it was an inevitable outcome given his first encounter with someone of the opposite sex other than his mother.

Even weeks later, her originality remained still a mystery. But there was no hurry, at least. A week had passed smoothly without any trouble and her paleness had all but gone except, maybe she had a loss of words occasionally. On one odd occasion when she remembered something, prior she'd be enclosed and her face would resent a blank appearance, as if finally searching that lost treasure. But the good thing was she had in fact regained some memory; for one, she remembered her name was Sierra, like a mountain in Molag Mar. To Kenil, her name was a musical note, song by the sweet voice a great vocalist. They had, at first, thought about a trip to Vivec, maybe to report on the incident, but it turned out that the local Omani's hadn't planned a trip to Vivec in over a year, and worse yet, there were talks about bandits lurking in caves along the way. And so, the family decided to wait until that time came.

As the weeks passed, Kenil noticed something about the girl, who had now situated herself very well into the household. (No doubt he's been paying quite a lot of attention to her by then.) That on nights where the rain pounded on the ceiling of the farmhouse, he could hear the girl's mumbles in the darkness.

He questioned her one time, which she didn't know what to say; she did not remember her dreams at all. He replied that he remembered his dreams, many of them. With daedra and phantoms and ghostly apparitions.

Really? She said.

They were usually outside during the dark, especially when it was raining.

She glanced outside, it's raining now, she said. Then laughed; are you afraid of 'ghosts' out there, now? Right now?

To her, it must have been an odd thing, to be afraid of something that doesn't even exist right outside of your own home.

Kenil nodded, he told her he had thought she was daedra ready to close around him the day when he tripped on her.

On impulse perhaps, the girl stood up from her usual deadlocked pose, and calmly walked to the door. I don't see anything, she said.

That's because they only come when you're outside. He replied.

Then, she turned her head, her perfect dumner head around, peering with her comforting eyes, a smile Kenil will remember forever. A smirk, actually. Let's go and see!

Kenil didn't know what made him do it then. The only time he found himself outside when it was pitch black and raining had been times when he fell asleep. He told himself many times after those occasions never to do it again, yet it just never seemed to stick. Don't know, maybe it's the smell of the crops, he explained to himself. But never had he ever gone outside when it was dark. He was very reluctant to do it, even when Arcata said she'd spank the little dumpling if he didn't go get her a tool. But as for today, he somehow managed the courage. They ran from the door, before Arcata or Granther or even Uncle Gul could scream and shout for them to come back.

Outside, the sun had run away long ago, leaving the sky a strange dark purple. Darkness crept slowly up Kenil, as he warily followed Sierra, away from the farmhouse, the warm sanctuary.

I can't wait to see the evil spirits! Hissed Sierra, taunting him innocently.

They only come out when you're an alone. He breathed.

Fine then! She ran into the crop field, leaving Kenil an awkward sensation of being lost.

Come back! He cried out.

Her reply resounded from far away, tell me when you see a daedra!

Alone, he glimpsed at the night sky. From here, it wasn't that entirely frightening. Except in a little way it was. Several moments later, after he had tried to follow her voice to no avail, he cried, I see one! I see one!

And out popped Sierra hidden posse of crops extremely close, almost touching him.

Kenil screamed and ran; he had not intended to see anything at all. Sierra giggled behind him in that small squeaky elfish voice. Looking back, dumbfounded, and then he realized, from that moment on, that he had lost all previously held fears of the darkness. Whatever fear he had within him was suddenly gone. All those times he questioned himself as to how he would survive one day when he grew older and he was still afraid of the dark dissipated in the darkness by this charming girl who scared the cork berries out of him.

They played hide and seek in the dark with only their voices in the wind, and giggled and laughed until the shouts from the farmhouse threatened them back.

On another summer day, when the sounds of great planes mimicked past and the wind passed through, told only by the trees as they swayed hither to, while the sun was still up and the wind was still carrying the fresh breeze of old summer mornings, a knock sounded from the wooden plank serving as a farmhouse's door. They were no riches, as it was for every farmer, the farm despite was a place, a home; as long as the soil was fertile, corkbulb trees grew abundant and ash yams didn't wither away and die, a home was good enough.

Sierra and Kenil happened to be setting themselves a new board of Kunpaf when it did sound. They both ventured to unlock the door, and in front of Kenil a face familiar materialized.

Hello, Master Omani!" Welcomed Arcata. Granther was not far behind her smiling. If there was anything that could make Granther smile besides Uncle Gul on those very very rare occasions, it was Mafias Omani, a tall man who could have become an inodori candidate were it not for his injured arm during a childhood incident. Omani smiled, eyes partially glancing at Sierra with surprise.

"How goes the arm?" Said Granther.

"Oh, fine, fine. It still sores when it rains."

Arcata welcomed him in, just as Uncle Gul gave him a big hug with a large inflated smile.

"Why Hello there!" Cried Mafias Omani in half-pain.

"Yes, the rain does seem to pour more often now." Said Granther, again.

"Good for the crops." Replied Master Omani.

"And the netch?"

"Yes, they do need good light to grow." Said Omani, "I hope you don't mind me bringing them over. They've been twisting around the den waiting to see the sun for a while."

"They're here?" Cried Kenil, he loved the netch, they were fun and harmless. They seemed to be able to see benevolence when there was, and differentiate that from harm.

Arcata glanced at the netch pasting not far away, another good thing, perhaps it was a dependency on Mer, but they never moved far unless someone was there to graze them. "Why don't you play with the netch, dears? Go show them the netch Gul."

Kenil rejoiced, "Come on Siri! I'll show you!"

Sierra looked too, but wasn't entirely fascinated with the blue mushroom- like creatures. She followed the bolting Kenil out the door. Uncle Gul followed, too, but knowing there was little need for his service.

"How are the crops this year?" Said Granther.

"Nothing better, this year's been luckier than most. You don't get this much rain." Omani said.

"Yes, it's been raining for two days straight, and three days before that. The crops need rain, but sun's good as well." Said Arcata sitting by a chair next to the window overlooking the netch and Kenil's waving arms of glee. The girl was pacing closer to the netch, curious, but cautious, too.

"Who's the girl?" Blurted Omani.

Arcata glanced away from the window, "You know, the funniest thing happened. A couple of weeks earlier." And she retold Sierra's mysterious appearance.

Master Omani had eyes wide open by the end of the story, couldn't believe his eyes but the utter chance of it all. "If I had a girl drop on my farm, maybe I'd finally find me a wife." He said.
Granther laughed.

"Do you suppose its any daedric doing?"

"Of all the gods! You'd think we'd be lucky enough to have a present sent to us without the daedric intervening!"

"I've heard stories," said Omani, "about daedric gods sending their own children to the mortal realm, and letting them feast on all the farmers."

Arcata's eyes were open wide, but then closed taut shut. Her face and Granther's face erupted in laughter.

When things quieted down, Arcata voiced, "Surely, if there's a chance that she might be a daedra, there's also a chance she's an aedra!"

"True," said Granther, "the rain has been frequent these past weeks. Perhaps its her." And then it all collapsed.