Breathless

1.

My name isn't very important.

There.

I have started the story of my life with a depressing line,

I can't really say that I am too proud of myself, I did after all promise silently to the piece of parchment in front of me that I would try to keep it in until at least halfway through our little story,

It wasn't meant to be I suppose.

Like So Many things....

So let's begin, although I'm afraid that we no longer have the time to finish.

I was born in the village of Rawn-Griff, a small circle of land that was east of the Bosmeri city of Elder Root. It was the twelfth of Sun's dusk and it was a story that my father would tell me many times after my birth. "It's a shame that you can't remember Aengoth" He would croak, his voice hoarse and jagged like a sheet of rusted iron, "It was an unnatural night it was, the rain poured from the sky, and the wind. Oh the wind shook so hard against the trees that we feared they would be ripped from the ground by the roots!" It would be then that the look would appear in his eyes, a look that was so... helpless, like an infant who saw Y'ffre himself and didn't know what to do. "Such a night it was Aengoth, that if your mother" And then he stopped, his mouth closed and my head turned away. She went with the gods when I was born and that was how it was supposed to be. Such thought of longing, or loneliness were just weak. That was how we were thought, how little we knew.

It wasn't long after that night that the village shaman realised that there was something different about me. Well I was different in the first place I suppose, seeing as I was the only son of the chieftain, But I suppose there had to have been something else, there always is.

He discovered, to the surprise of the village that I had almost unnatural; reserves of magicka, but I also lacked the ability to regenerate it by myself, I later learned that I was born under a unique sign, the sign of the atronach. A blessing and a curse I suppose but I didn't really look to deeply into it at the time, I was, after all only 9 summers old at the time.

That's my first memory of my childhood; my second however is not very pleasant.

I want you do something for me first.

Imagine that you know me, or better yet imagine me as you.

I am on my 14 summer, and I am running through the thick, overgrowth that surrounds Rawn-Griff, I have a bow in my hand, the finest yew, and I'm on the hunt, leaping and plunging to the waves and cracks of the ancient trees around me.

Below me, I see a deer, its fur a rusty red and a pair of unblinking black eyes as it nibbles delicately on a stray leaf. My feet are widely apart from each other as I stick my tongue out between my teeth.

I lick my lips.

The twang of my arrow leaping from the bow flied quickly into the deer's side. It let out a screech and ran, using its little strength to bolt between the leaves.

I follow her, my feet making a pound as they hit the woodland floor and I pushed myself towards my prize.

I stop, Horror grips me.

Before me lies a fellow Bosmer, His right arm buckled at an awkward angle, his left bent in a way as if he was reaching for the broken bow that was strewn over his back. His mouth open in a way that they generally shouldn't be, and his eyes? Bloodshot and worn; with a single fly moving across them. His leather armour was torn to shreds, revealing a number of hideous wounds underneath that, no matter how hard I tried, could not look away from. By his feet lay my deer, wheezing slowly, its eyes fluttering with its last bit of strength.

Pulling out my dagger I mercifully drew it across its throat, its last breath dancing against my bare arms. Whispering a small prayer to Y'ffre I flung the deer over my shoulder and began to move back towards the village to tell them of what I just saw.

It was the first time that I ever saw a dead man, and little did I now that it would not be my last.

[This is my first story so any reviews would be great thanks! ^_^]