(A/N: This is a simple oneshot based on the character Sugar-Lips Habasi, who is going to be more fleshed out and a fairly prominent character in my Morrowind fiction, Journey to the East. This takes place several years before Adanji gets to Morrowind, and before Habasi joined the Thieves Guild. Hope you enjoy it—constructive criticism, as always, is welcome and appreciated.)

Escape from Dren Plantation

12 Morning Star, 3E 416

Habasi lay quietly on the ragged sack-cloth over packed dirt that served as her bed, her unblinking yellow eyes stinging as they traced patterns in the woodwork of the ceiling. Her body ached for sleep, but she was wide awake. This was it. This was the night she had been planning for. Her gaze slid lazily over the dreamy shape in the grain that resembled a three-legged guar. She didn't need the small candle in the corner of the shack to see. The moonlight filtering in through wide gaps in the wooden slats—the source of the wintry draft— was more than enough for her Khajiit eyes.

Just a little longer… Her ears strained as she waited for the last of her kin to fall asleep. When she was sure all were breathing slowly, she stood, stretching until her muscles were taut and trembling, then relaxing as much was possible. The danger she would soon be facing was tangible, and set her heart thudding painfully in her chest. The shackles about her wrists seemed tighter than usual, and heavy, almost dragging her down. STAY. The word echoed around in her mind, an intrusion with a sickening grip. Fight it. Taking a deep breath, she held it for a moment as she took a tentative step over the sleeping form of an ancient Khajiit with a silvery mane. She let out the breath as quietly as she could as her toes touched dirt on his far side, near his face, a small thrill of excitement coursing through her.

There was her first official step toward freedom.

In a nervous tic, she reached up and absently pinched her right ear as she continued weaving through the tightly packed, furry bodies, worried with each step that she might trip and wake someone up. She was almost at the door—just a little further! She reached out with a trembling paw, gripped the handle, and pulled. The door creaked as it swung open. She cursed under her breath.

"Nnn, where is Ja'khajiit going, so late?"

She froze, the fur along her spine rising, and turned around. The Khajiit nearest to her—a female with short golden fur and black spots— had woken up and was eyeing her intently.

"Ahzini," Habasi hissed. "Go back to sleep."

"Habasi is not thinking of escape again, is she?" Ahzini whispered, her ears lowering. "These renriji would kill the little one if she gets caught."

The other speaks sense. Listen to her. No.

"Sss! Habasi would prefer death to this!" she snapped, throwing her arms wide, before remembering where she was. She glanced around, making sure she hadn't woken anyone, then continued in a whisper, "Please Ahzini. Do not try to stop this one."

"Habasi is young. Too young. She should stay here. She will learn this is not so bad, yes?"

"Not so bad? We practically starve! We toil in their fields, feed the netch, clean their fodder, get beaten if we do not work fast enough. Habasi does very much think this is bad! Ahzini can stay here if she likes. Habasi is leaving." She stamped her foot.

Ahzini stared at her a moment, then blinked her big green eyes slowly, her whiskers drooping in defeat. "… Vaba maaszi." She sighed, shaking her head. "Then go, Ja'khajiit. Please. Be careful, for this one's sake. She would not wish to see Habasi as one of Master's trophies."

Habasi shivered. She had never seen it for herself, but every slave knew that Dren had a special room filled with the hides of Khajiit and Argonian slaves who had tried to escape or had outlived their usefulness. "Habasi will be fine." She gave Ahzini a small nod before backing out of the shack, swinging the door shut behind her.

She ducked into a bush just as one of Dren's guards rounded a corner, his lantern swinging carelessly from his hand. His unbalanced gait and low humming seemed to indicate he had had one-too-many drinks, and as he drew nearer, the stench of Greef wafting from him confirmed it. This must be Frinnius Posuceius. The Imperial wasn't actually a guard, as Habasi had initially feared, but he was just as bad as one. He had been overseeing the slaves on the plantation since long before Habasi had been taken here nearly seven years ago.

Like the other slaves, Habasi had learned the names of her captors because it was good to know who to avoid and why. But Habasi had also been listening to their conversations—that was how she had earned a number of the scars on her back, including the fresh ones that stung as she shifted her weight in the bush. They had seen her watching them, and wished to teach her how curiosity was very bad for cats. But her listening had not been in vain. She had learned many useful things.

She had learned who had the keys on what days, where they kept them when they were off duty, where they patrolled, and when. Some kept to their schedules as predictably as the sunrise— one even relieved himself at the same time every day. Frinnius never adhered to much of a schedule. If Habasi cared to guess, she'd assume he must be born under the sign of the Serpent, who wandered the sky in no discernible pattern, and he was as mean as any viper. This capriciousness made him dangerous, as one never knew when he might lash out in a rage. More than once he had beaten someone nearly to death, excusing the 'property damage' to Dren by claiming the slave wasn't pulling their weight or had shown disrespect.

Habasi was only able to relax when the Imperial rounded the corner of a far shack, likely heading to his quarters. She would have liked to take pleasure in the fact that his shack was almost as shabby as the slaves', but she couldn't bring herself to care. Maybe that was simply where some of his bitterness had come from? She shook the thought, reminding herself that now was no time to speculate, and moved on.

She had planned this over and over again. While most of the guards could have keys on them, she wasn't confident in her ability to pick their pockets, even if one was wandering along on patrol. She doubted if she could slip into the guardhouse without getting caught, which was frustrating because she had an idea that it must be a treasure trove for slave keys. A sharp tingling sensation rose up her arms, starting from her wrists and her knees buckled. She had to clamp her mouth shut to stop herself from yelping in shock. You're disobeying Master. Stop it. Go back to sleep. You don't have to be punished if you just do as you're told. NO! She clenched her teeth, taking a few short, ragged breaths, and moved on.

Dren's villa loomed ahead. The master himself was the best option, if the most terrifying one. He had a key on him at all times, hanging about his neck like a trophy. The only guards to his villa were stationed outside, so as not to disturb him. He would likely be slumbering in his cushy feather bed, blissfully unaware that any 'lowly beast' would dare sneak into his personal quarters to snatch freedom quite literally from under his nose. Habasi liked that picture. She just hoped she could make it a reality. You will fail. None can escape. Shut up. After a moment, the voice retreated. She doubted that would be the last of it, but now she could concentrate on what she was doing.

Two guards were stationed outside the entrance, but Habasi didn't need the front door. A set of stairs on the side of the building led to a second-floor patio. Unfortunately, the guards were alert, sure to look in every direction—even the one she needed to reach those stairs. She slipped behind a tree while she assessed the situation. Go back now, while you still can. She couldn't hide behind this tree forever. A guard would likely pass by in a few minutes, then she'd be sorry. She reached up and pinched her ear again, an anxious thumb stroking at the soft fur. That's right, listen to your fears… Glancing around, she caught sight of a pebble just a few feet away. A tiny smile graced her lips and she scooped it up and hurled it into the bushes on the far side of the villa.

"You hear that?"

"Yeah…"

"Could be a cave rat."

"Come on, let's just check it out. Dren would have our hides if we ignore it."

One of the guards wandered off in the direction of the noise, the other watching his back from the doorway. That had worked better than she had thought it would. Keeping to the shadows, she sprinted to the stairs, up to the patio, and into the building.

She waited a moment with her back pressed to the door, surveying the hallway she had come into. She had never actually been inside the villa. Dren didn't trust his slaves to work inside his home; he had servants to cook his food and clean his house. She didn't even know where he slept. She would have to snoop around.

A small shiver coursed through her; she hoped she wouldn't come upon the 'trophy room.' If she saw the skins of her own kind hanging from the walls, she doubted she would keep her resolve. Inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling slowly through her mouth, she began her search, ears pricked for any sound of trouble.

The first room she came upon was a dining room. More food than she had ever seen—beyond that which she had harvested with her own hands—was piled high on the round table. A half-eaten roast, steamed ash-yams, fresh comberries, cheese, and bread composed what smelled like a delicious feast. Even the sight of the mouse on the table gnawing happily at a crumb of bread did nothing to dampen her appetite. Her stomach growled. There's no time… But she was just so hungry. Peering around, even sniffing at the air, she sensed no one else in the room. Grabbing a fistful of comberries, she stuffed them into her mouth, followed by a slice of bread and a hunk of cheese.

Hunger satisfied, she decided she'd wasted enough time here. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she continued her search, heart racing. They're going to find you, here. You're going to get caught and killed. She pressed on through the kitchen, down a hallway, passing a number of open doors that led into offices, storage rooms, and a library. Finally, she found the stairs that seemed to lead down into a large bedroom.

Dren's chambers.

Her feet stopped short of the threshold, and she found herself rooted to the spot, hesitating. Now or never…

She firmly kept her hand away from her ear as she slunk into the chambers. The moonlight filtering in through the green-tinted windows cast the room in an emerald glow. Tapestries and bookshelves piled high with small, delicate treasures adorned the walls. An over-stuffed armchair sat in the corner next to a small table, on which sat a single book and an oil lamp. A Daedric longsword hung above the chair. None of these things held Habasi's attention long, as she focused it entirely on Dren's bed. It was just as luxurious as she had imagined it; a huge four-poster with silk curtains, a feather mattress piled high with pillows and covered in thick blankets, keeping out the winter chill.

Dren himself was snoring loudly into his pillow, one arm dangled carelessly over the edge. He was unaware of her presence. Good. Holding her breath, she crept up to him, pulling back the very top of the blankets with a delicate claw to get at his neck. She could hear her pulse roaring in her ears. There it was—the gleam of a golden chain against bare gray skin. The key, no doubt, was nestled somewhere under him.

How am I going to get to it without waking him? She could wait for him to roll over on his own, but there was no guarantee of that happening. Yet again her shackles felt too heavy, like two anvils chained to her wrists, and a tingling—almost like lightning—erupted from them, surging up her arms. She clenched her teeth, screwing up her eyes as she focused on not crying out. GIVE UP. LEAVE. GO BACK TO THE SHACK AND STAY THERE.

She clapped her hands over her ears, even though she knew the sound was coming from within. Stop it. Minutes passed like hours until finally the sensation faded away, along with the admonishing voice. Trembling, she returned her attention to the chain. There was a small clasp there she hadn't noticed. She wasn't sure that would do her any good, though. If she unfastened the clasp and pulled on one end of the chain, she might remove the necklace, but the key would likely remain captive under Dren's body.

Damn it. With trembling fingers, she gave one end of the chain a gentle tug. One link popped up, out from under the Dunmer's collar bone. He didn't seem to notice as he continued snoring. This might work. One more tug. One more link in the chain. This continued a few painfully slow minutes until Dren started, snorting loudly and groping at the air. Habasi jumped backward, stumbling over her own feet, her fur standing on end as the Dunmer thrashed about.

"Damn n'wah…." the man mumbled into the darkness as he settled back down, rolling over onto his back. Habasi watched in stunned silence, her eyes wide as dinner plates. Gathering her courage, she stood, approaching her master yet again. Now she could see the key; it was resting on top of his chest, which was crisscrossed with dark red marks from where he'd been sleeping on the chain. She couldn't believe her luck!

Reaching around, she unclasped the necklace and held it out in front of her, eyeing the key as it dangled before her eyes.

LET IT GO. DROP IT.

Just as her fingers closed over the key, agony shot through her bones like she'd been dropped into molten lava. Her wrists were on fire! LET GO! LETGOLETGOLETGODROPIT! Her eyes streamed as she fumbled with the key. She was sure she had screamed. She could hear movement and sheets being thrown back, a harsh voice calling loudly. She jammed the key into the hole and turned. One shackle fell, like stone. Then the next.

Silence.

Just as relief washed over her like a wave of ice water, a strong hand gripped her wrist. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

She blinked at the purple face hovering inches from her own. She didn't hear the threats he screamed at her. Her head was buzzing. She dug her claws into his hand and tugged, but he didn't relent. With all her might, she kicked out, kneeing Dren in the groin. She was out of his chambers before he hit the floor.

Up the stairs she ran, fear her only driving force. She could hear doors opening and slamming shut, voices shouting in outrage. The front door was blocked—not an option. Neither was the way she had come in. Tearing blindly up the stairs, she didn't realize her error until it was too late. She found herself in a small attic, piled high with crates. She could hear footsteps clomping up the stairs behind her.

"GET THAT SLAVE! BRING HER TO ME ALIVE!" Dren's voice called up behind the armored figure that advanced on her, his sword raised.

The window! Shrieked the desperate voice in her head. Her own voice.

She had barely noticed it at first. The window would likely lead to a lot of empty space and a long drop, but it was her only option. She threw herself at it. She felt something shatter. She wasn't sure if it was the glass or her shoulder. She found herself falling in cold darkness, wind whipping at her face. She let her instincts guide her as she twisted through the air, landing on all fours and tumbling to soften the blow.

A mere second after she had landed she was on her feet again and running. Voices called behind her, raising the alarm, but they quickly faded as she put distance between herself and the plantation. She barely noticed where she was going, or the burning pain that lanced through her legs, or the deep, ragged breaths that tore at her lungs.

She was free!