13th of Last Seed, 4E 201

She is utterly aqueous. She floats from one dream to the next to the next. Daymares and wish fulfillments galore! There's the one where everything she touches melts, and she is eventually rolling about in the sticky sweet of many a strangers' corpses, laughing hysterically at the horror of it all. There's the memory where she wades into the creek, something alien pooling in her insides, at which point her mind replaces the bloody mess that followed with something more amusing- two sweet rolls and a honeybee, perhaps. There is the fantasy where she wraps herself tightly around- who? A man? A woman? That depends on what minute she is in. Their skin keeps shifting its color and texture, yet remains a welcome mess of extremities. Slugs in the brains of the masquerade ball goers, but only she can see them. She is a dandelion seed, floating above the sea, the world, the stream of time. Her daughters call her name and, with a brilliant grin and tears in her eyes, she joins them in the sun.

The jostling of the cart ripped the dark elf from her reverie. The sting of cold air was what hit her nose first, then the complex combination of spices, metal, and old cheese shortly thereafter. Groaning, she tried to stretch, but was quickly reminded of the goods crammed in alongside her. The way her head had hung as she slept had left a crook in her neck. Her eyelids feeling leaden, she had to practically force herself to open her eyes, but after blinking a few times, her immediate surroundings came into focus.

A brittle autumn light filtered through the thick spires of pine trees, illuminating the rickety procession of carriages, each of which carried a load of tired-eyed caravaneers. The way the cart rumbled and shifted along the rough stone road made her nauseous. In an attempt to both steady her stomach and ward off the early morning chill, she wrapped thin, taut arms around herself.

The thin, sheepskin divider at the front of the coach opened up to reveal the worn but smiling face of a red-furred khajiit.

"Ah, good morning, weary traveler," he cried joyously.

Juniper managed a small laugh that was more of a wince. "Key word being weary," she yawned. "Did you get any sleep at all, Niraji? How are you so goddamn chipper?"

The man chuckled in response. "Well, it is always exciting for Khajiit to come across a land he has not stepped foot in before. How could I sleep? The sky is so… big here, is it not?" He beckoned her to come up front. "Come, come and see!"

She was able to smile genuinely this time at the cat's wanderlust. Despite how little money she was able to make off with, she decided that she'd give him a little extra for the trouble of transporting her out of Cyrodiil.

Sticking her head out into the open and craning her neck, she wasn't expecting anything spectacular. Yet, she couldn't hold back a short, sharp inhale. Beyond the browning leaves and the distant peaks, the maw of the chilling sky seemed to open up to her.

"It really is beautiful," she whispered. After a moment, she sighed. "Maybe life here won't be too bad, huh? At least the scenery is nice."

"We have all had to run from our mistakes, yes? I would not worry if I were you. Any place can be a good home."

She cocked an eyebrow, turning to the old cat.

"Well that's rather presumptuous of you, sir," she remarked jokingly, trying to deflect the comment, "what makes you think I'm running from something?"

"Oh, I seem to recall something like, "Please let me accompany you, and don't ask any questions."

"Yes, that was the deal," she huffed, "I thought discretion was key to this budding friendship of ours."

"Yes, yes, my apologies, my lady. Niraji will make no more assumptions about your legal or not-so-legal activities."

"Cheeky bastard. So, when are we stopping next? I haven't peed since we left."

"Very soon. We are past Riften now, there is a small mining town where can stop for the day before descending into Eastmarch."

"Lovely. Thank you again."

"You are most welcome."

She settled back into her spot between a pile of furs and a sack of potatoes. Before she knew it, she had lapsed back into sleep.

When Juniper woke, a cacophony of screams and clashing metal came first. Then came the heat.

There were flames creeping in from all sides, and she didn't even get a chance to catch a breath before the smoke started choking her. Thankfully, her eyes were quick, and her hands quicker. She pawed for whatever of her essentials she could find- a dagger, a coin purse, a knapsack- and was able to scramble out of the cart before the roof caved in. Eyes watering, half-blinded, she kept low to the ground and tried to orient herself. Try as she may, however, the sound of battle was coming from all sides. She tripped over something, and she landed flat on the ground. Looking back she realized, to her horror, it was the body of one of the caravaneers, an arrow buried in her left eye. She hoped that Niraji was at least able to get out safe, but somehow she doubted it.

Her senses clearing, she practically dived into the cover of a nearby bush, and prayed to any entity that would listen that her knack of blending into her surroundings would not fail her now.

Silently observing the massacre, she saw a pitiful few blue-cloaked men swinging wildly against a wave of Imperial soldiers. Stormcloaks, in the flesh, she thought.

Suddenly, from her right side, a stocky red-haired woman sprinted out of the underbrush with a war cry and swung the legs out from under a line of Imperials with her axe. She wasn't dressed like the other rebels, but she sure fought like one. However, she was quickly overpowered, although it took five men to wrestle her to the ground, and even then she thrashed and wailed like a sabrecat.

Just as an Imperial boot pressed itself onto the redhead's face, she and the elf made eye contact. It was then that the fear in the woman's eyes made itself known to Juniper, and she felt as though she were frozen in place.

"Stop! Stop this madness!" Boomed a commanding Nordic voice. "There is no glory to be had by any more blood here. Take me to be mocked in front of your leader. Just know this fight will not end by killing me."

In a matter of moments, the red-haired woman and the Stormcloak soldiers were hauled away and the clearing became quiet, save for the distant yells and sounds of horse hooves. Juniper stood up shakily, wondering how her luck had gone so bad, so fast. Still, she thought, she had survived. These poor Khajiit got caught in the crossfire of a battle in which neither side cared much for collateral damage. Since there wasn't much to salvage from the caravans, she sifted through the pockets of their former hosts, feeling dirty doing so.