Memories are a strange and alien thing. They are within every life form, whether sapient or not. They stretch far and wide for a single persons lifespan. Most speak fondly of their memories, while others prefer to keep them locked away. Good memories are sometimes forgotten, and bad memories are usually remembered; no matter how hard one might try.

Her first memory was of flame. Of a young child barely out of infancy, watching the fire dance across her family's lifeless bodies, helpless to stop the destructive element. Her happiness destroyed along with her chance of a normal life.

Ever since, her memories were filled with hardship and abuse. Of a tiny girl who was forced to steal to survive. No one would hire the little girl who wasn't strong enough to even lift a crate. The child had to learn to fend and provide for herself. All throughout her childhood, she stole, learning archery and parkour by herself, not once had anyone stopped to help her.

Her memories of her thirteenth year was one of the worst. Her first kill. Starting when she made the mistake of pickpocketing an off-duty guard. She was caught, and a scuffle ensued. She panicked when fingers wrapped around her throat, when claws broke the skin of her nose. Her sight darkened. When she awoke, she was on her hands and knees, and he laying before her, his throat ripped open. Horror filled her when she realized her claws were covered in blood. She was forced to run from her home, as the man she killed was a son of a high standing noble family; and they demanded blood. She fled to Cyrodiil that day, never to see her homeland again.

The years went by, she grew into an athletic teen, her skills with a bow increased. As did her thieving skills. Once again, she was never hired. Plying her old trade was the only way she could survive.

The memories of her eighteenth year is what changed her life forever. The whole of Cyrodiil was aware of her exploits, and thus she had to flee once more. She travelled north to Skyrim, straight into an ambush. She never knew of the war, of the Nords of Skyrim rebelling against the Empire. Being mistaken as an ally of these Nords, which seemed implausible due to her race, she was captured as well. She was bound with the Nords, placed on a carriage, arriving in Helgen two days later.

But Helgen was destroyed by something that was considered a legend. Something she never knew existed. A dragon. She escaped with the help of Ralof, a Stormcloak, whom was captured with her. After spending the night at his sister's house in Riverwood, she disappeared.

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Yeah, I know this is really short, but most people make their prologues short and to the point. Besides, I didn't want to dedicated half the story to my character's background. I wanted to get straight to the action. But don't worry, there will be mentions of her background.

And just who is the mysterious person mentioned here? Find out in the next chapter.

R&R please.