Leaving my home behind and saying goodbye to my family was the hardest thing I had ever done. I was glad to be alone for the first few hours only because it meant nobody could see me break down in tears every few minutes and go to turn back. I never got more than a few steps back before my inner resolve hardened again and I kept moving.
My days became so different to anything else I'd experienced. I would plot my paths out on old maps and try and stick to smaller towns- just enough to rent a bed every now and then and top of my food supplies. Those were the few times I saw people again, meeting Pahmer soldiers that complimented my hair and Alfiq who couldn't speak but cast illumination spells for us to pore over the maps together. I learned what places to avoid, the quickest path North and even had one friendly Bosmer trade me some spell books in return for some baked goods I'd brought with me.
It was some company that broke up the isolated and monotonous walks I took through forest and jungle and even close to the desert areas. At times though I found myself longing to have the little ones around begging me to tell them a story, or to have my grandmother chat to me as I prepared a meager dinner over my campfire. I truly missed my nightly walks with my father the most, sometimes I'd find myself staring up at the stars and the pang of missing him would be so strong I could have sworn I could smell the smoke from his pipe.
But as time passed, I still mourned the loss of the company but I found myself no longer tearing up as I wrote in my journal of what I wanted to tell my family. I began to relish the peace and quiet of my wandering, especially as I left Elsweyr. I had time to explore the new terrain and the interesting architecture of Cyrodiil. With nobody else to please I could stop for two hours to sketch a single flower if I wanted to, and I often did. The meals I cooked were eaten with nobody fighting for a larger portion or a baby needing fed between bites. After two months, I enjoyed my solitude.
Travelling through Cyrodiil, however, was intimidating.
I knew this wasn't where I was meant to be, I still felt the pull to travel further North but I couldn't help being curious. People I stopped to chat to told me how the cities were former shells of their previous glory but I still marveled at the buildings and busy cities. Plenty of those in the towns and cities were curious about me too- asking slightly invasive questions about my appearance differing to other Khajiit they'd seen travel through.
At first I was patient, telling them the difference between the Cathay they were used to and Ohmes-raht like myself. I pointed out how I did actually have fur, it was just so short that the areas it covered it was hard to tell. I explained how my markings were tattoos that were culturally significant back in my home and represented my coming of age back home.
After a few times though, I got tired of the long winded explanations and started to avoid people once again. I missed having my father around, his towering frame would have stopped any rude or abrupt questions.
I stuck close to the rivers and lakes as I traveled, finding fishing a lot easier than hunting or venturing into the busier places to buy things. My gold supply was starting to run a little low too and I was trying to be sensible with it. The last thing I wanted was to end up stranded somewhere, far from my goal. I still had yet to see the looming mountains from my dreams.
My maps were my constant companion. I'd trace how far I'd come and plot my future course, drawing my finger up until it hovered over the unknown towns in Skyrim. Just looking at it on the map made something click into place in my head. That was where I had to go first.
The weather was getting colder and colder the closer I got to the border though. I spent some of the last of my gold on a thick fur cloak to wrap around me and use as a blanket at night. Just listening to people describe the amount of snow that would fall up in the North made me shiver and regret swapping the warm weather of Elsweyr for a foreign country with what seemed like uninhabitable weather. But it still felt like something up in the stars and moons were guiding me. I put all my faith into them.
The mountains were difficult to travel through, but thankfully there were a few travelers native to Skyrim that were happy to point me in the right direction after I struggled for a couple of days. They even let me pitch my tent with them, just shy of the border and we crowded round the fire together while the tallest of the men, who introduced himself as Tulvar, prepared a fresh venison stew. The shorter one, who cheerfully told me they called him Hodlin the Stout, crouched over my map adding some places of interest for me.
"So what brings you to Skyrim then lass?" The woman of the group, Setta, asked, passing me a bottle of Ale. The accents were so different to back in Elsweyr and it took me a moment to process what she said and remember to answer in the right language.
"I wanted to travel, see beyond my family home," I took a swallow of Ale and paused, not wanting to explain my dreams or beliefs about faith. "It's such a different country from Elsweyr... I'm curious."
"You're comin' as everyone else wants to leave," Hodlin gave a barking laugh and handed me back my map. "Plenty to see and do if you want to be a soldier, but it's too miserable for us now. I want a nice bed and nicer company, not the constant shit stains talkin' about what side you're on and then threatenin' to gut you over your opinion."
Setta gave a barking laugh as I stared at them both, unsure on whether this was a joke or if things were seriously that bad. I stared at the markers Hodlin hard etched on my map, trying to work out where I was going and if it was possible to avoid the trouble they were talking about.
I tucked the map away as Tulvar announced the venison was ready and handed out the bowls of stew. We huddled closer round the fire as we ate in relative silence. The venison was tender and nice, but I missed the spices and flavourings from Elsweyr. Even some moon sugar would have made it a nice mixture of savory and sweet, but I supposed that would be less enjoyable or those who didn't have the tolerance for the substance. Even if it did taste a little bland compared to what I was used to, it was warm and filling and between us there were no leftovers.
We used melted snow and ice to rinse the bowls and I dragged my sleeping furs out the tent to listen to my new companions. Hodlin had drank more than a few bottles of Ale and sang a song about a man named Ragnar that made me laugh- though Setta shouted her disagreement throughout. Tulvar regarded the two's joking insults with a warm look. The three were obviously close, though they didn't look related. I was curious as to how they had ended up travelling together but I didn't feel I knew them well enough to pry. Instead, I sipped my own Ale and watched.
The way they interacted so warm and playful and familiar reminded me of my siblings and I smiled. I was warm, well-fed and had some company I enjoyed, it was hard not to be content. My eyes started to droop and I yawned. After a few moments Tulvar caught my eye and chuckled.
"You look tired, Ma'hlia. Are we keeping you up past your bed time?" He teased gently, reminding me of S'inji.
"Aye. It's getting late, lass," Setta glanced to the sky and huddled further under her own blanket. "Perhaps it's time we all went to sleep, we're travelling early tomorrow after all."
The men murmured their agreement and slowly we retreated to our separate tents. They had one much larger than mine, space enough for all three of them but I was glad of my own space when I heard Hodlin's snoring through the night. The embers of the fire gave enough warmth and I felt safer knowing there were people nearby, even if I may not have known them that well.
I slipped into an easy, dreamless sleep. When I woke to the sound of Setta and Tulvar laughing at something, I felt better rested than I had for weeks.
We packed up our supplies together, Tulvar slicing some bread I had shared and toasting it over the fire with apples and butter. I expected to miss the flavorings of home again but the apples were sweet and the cheese was creamy once it melted over the fire. I ended up having seconds, then thirds. My love for food meant I still carried the extra weight around my midsection, but it no longer bothered me.
"If you ever end up in the South of Elsweyr, look out for the Solrhusra farm. I'm sure my family would love to cook for you in return for your kindness," I gave the trio an impulsive hug. "They worried I wouldn't encounter any kindness from strangers."
"Well you can't get stranger than us," Setta laughed, giving me a tight squeeze in return.
"Just be careful of some of those strangers, especially in the bigger holds. Not everyone is welcoming to outsiders," Tulvar looked solemn and the other two shifted uncomfortably. "Look after yourself Ma'hlia. I have a good feeling about you. I'm sure we'll meet again."
I watched them leave, already missing the company as they disappeared from view. It had been fun to spend time with them. I sent up a silent prayer that Tulvar was right and we would meet again before turning and continuing on my way. The mountains loomed over me as a I went, a strange and a stark contrast to the jungle I was used to. Yet somehow it felt like I was where I belonged.
I stopped at a stream after a few hours, crouching down to fill up my canteen and letting my cloak fall around me and seal in the warmth. If I was following my map right then I had just crossed the border to Skyrim. I was excited to reach a town to sleep in a real bed again, especially with this cold weather. I had gotten used to sleeping alone, but I definitely hadn't gotten used to sleeping under a pile of furs and still being cold.
Taking several swallows from my canteen, I suppressed a shiver. The cold water was refreshing and I preferred it to the constantly tepid water in the balmy weather of home, but I would have preferred a nice hot tea. But I didn't want to slow down to light a fire to make one. I was determined to make it to the next town by sundown.
After topping my canteen back up and stowing it in the bag at my hip, I stood and stretched, cracking my back, and letting out a satisfied sigh. It was cold, but I pulled my cloak around me, adjusted the pack on my back and went back along the trail I'd been following.
I'd only been walking for a minute or so when I spotted the horse.
It was beautiful, piebald and easily taller than me. Little puffs of breath were visible in the cold weather and I couldn't help but step forward and reach out a hand. I'd taken a few carts in my travels so far but it had been a long time since I'd ridden a horse. The horse gave a soft snort before tucking its nose into my hand, snuffling to see if I had any treats.
I smiled, about to reach out another hand when my ears picked up the faint sound of metal clanging. The horse must have heard it too, shaking its head and starting to trot away. I, however, was nosier and ducked through the trees till I spotted a figure. He was jogging towards me, muttering under his breath. The only words I managed to pick up were 'damn horse' before an arrow suddenly shot by the two of us and embedded into the tree.
Yelping, I dropped to my knees as the horse guy picked up his speed and brushed right past me without so much as a glance. Another arrow whizzed by, only an inch or two above my head and I screeched, scrambling through the trees trying to find cover.
I broke through some underbrush and spotted a couple guys in armour, crossing swords. There was a few more in the distance with the archer on a crop of rocks. He didn't even seem to be aiming at me, just having his shots fly over the heads of his marks.
Hopping into a squat, I drew my short sword and pressed my back against the thick pine tree behind me. I didn't want to fight anyone- especially since my simple skirt and tunic would offer no protection. My cloak was thick for warmth but those muscular soldiers with their fancy swords would cut through it without breaking a sweat.
I was just about to try and slink away when a female soldier burst through the trees not far from me. Her eyes locked with mine. I shrank under her ferocious glare as she strode toward me.
"Another rebel, General!" She yelled and I glanced around me. I had no idea what she meant and wondered if maybe I was struggling to understand the accent.
She pointed her sword at me, nearly twice as long as mine and already blood stained. I dropped mine immediately and raised my hands, if I surrendered then she wouldn't use that sword on me- right?
I realised I was wrong as she just gave a twisted smile and kept advancing, brandishing that sword. I pressed further against the tree, my heart feeling like it was trying to launch out my chest and do her job by impaling itself on the sword for her.
"Oh Alkosh save me…" I whimpered in Ta'agra, knowing fine well she wouldn't be able to understand me. I switched to Tamrielic, praying for a miracle. "Please, I am not a threat! Just wandering! I surrender! You can't hurt me!"
She gave no indication to hearing me, as if I was still speaking a foreign language. My hands were still up but she lashed out with her blade anyway, narrowly missing slicing my palms open. This was real- she wasn't going to hold back.
Swallowing down my fear I scrambled away, falling flat on my back without the tree to hold me up. I shuffled back, trying to flip onto my hands and knees quickly enough to get away. But then the solider showed her skill, launching forward, and kicking her boot into my stomach and driving me back onto the ground.
The pain of the heavy steel boots being driven into my gut was nearly bad enough to make me throw up and I collapsed back, trying to catch my breath. My father had taught me how to handle a sword but even in our sparring I'd never gotten a blow as fierce as that.
She lifted her sword again, aiming for my stomach. Instinctively I lashed back out and attempted to kick the sword away. Not the best idea but I didn't want to see my own guts spilled onto the cold ground.
I missed my kick and instead, the sharp steel bit into the plump flesh of my hip and dragged down my thigh.
I let out a strangled scream. The steel of the sword was cold but the wound immediately burned. My green skirt turned dark with blood and my eyes rolled back. I hadn't expected to die so far from home, so far from my family. At the hands of this anonymous soldier who didn't even know my name.
The soldier paused and regarded her work for a moment, looking at the wound through the slice she'd made in my skirt. Even though my leg was throbbing and the wound felt like fire, I knew I had to take this moment to get away. Whimpering, I flipped onto my hands and knees. Every movement was agony and I could feel myself close to blacking out. The blood was spilling onto the ground beneath me and the sight of it spurred me on. I didn't want to die here on this cold forest floor.
I made it maybe about a foot before I heard heavy footsteps approaching. The female soldier muttered something and there was a male chuckle. I moved to turn and look but before I could, something solid and heavy smacked the back of my head and my face smashed into the ground.
I just had a second to taste blood before the pain got the best of me and I blacked out.
