Authors note: So I went back and reread some of that first chapter. I had come home after a long and trying day and just sat down and wrote for three hours. I notice I began to slip that whole last page (maybe before I haven't reviewed it too much). Anyway, I did a few updates to the last page (which is roughly from when Mahk awakes to when he leaps from the wall. Anyway not planning much story or exposition for this chapter.

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Mahk landed nimbly on his feet. The land here was cold and hilly. It was an Alpine forest and little brush or undergrowth. He spotted a rocky outcropping and ran towards it. He tumbled slightly down to the bottom of the outcropping to discover a dark cave opening. He duck just inside, praying to the nine that no hungry bears awaited just inside. Mahk noticed his breath steaming in front of his face. It was cold this side of the Jerall mountains.

The dark haired man, with a formerly neatly trimmed goatee that now grew ragged, heard a great roar in the distance. Mahk looked to see the dragon fly far away into the distance, seeming to disappear into the noonday sun. Mahk sunk to the floor of the cave, exhausted and worried. Mahk had seen much in his life, but he had never once thought he'd see a dragon, much less escape one.

After an hour Mahk got up and began to walk north. He wasn't familiar with the geography of Skyrim and he had no idea where the road was. If he stopped here, in this cold alpine region, with no way of obtaining food and no nearby water source he would likely die. So he walked, always to the north.

After nearly three hours of uneventful walking he spotted a fire in the distance. Mahk crouched down and began to flank the camp, moving forward and to the west. From this vantage he could see three figures. One was obviously a Khajiit, the other two appeared human. Were they friend or foe. They were dressed only in furs. They could be bandits but Mahk had seen no sign of a road. It was unlikely simple highwaymen would camp away from the road. They could be hunters. That would make sense. He'd seen two rabbits and a fox while he'd been walking, and there were likely wolves in this area.

Then they could be outlaws. Khajiit certainly had a reputation for such activities, many of them refining moon sugar into skooma. Many Khajiit wandered the lands in nomad bands, a hard life. Many of them were no doubt reduced to stealing and looting. And, of course, humans had even more of a penchant to turn outlaw.

Mahk no longer had time to ponder this. He heard a footstep behind him and managed to roll instinctively out of the way as a figure armed with dual axes charged him. Mahk had little choice but to run. He weaved between trees and turned to see if the commotion had disturbed those in the camps. As he turned he notice his pursuer, who was between him and the camp, stumble and drop an axe, an arrow sprouting from his shoulder. Mahk had no time to ponder this. He knew he couldn't outrun his attacker, who he saw now was another Khajiit dressed in furs. Mahk was tired and under-nourished, his attacker would catch him. Mahk darted towards the Khajiit, grabbed the fallen axe, and sprung away. The Khajiit, who was bent low charged him. Mahk dodged aside at the last moment. The Khajiit hit a tree but did not fall, still doubled over. Mahk took the axe in both hands, raised it over his head, and, with all his strength, plunged downward into the Khajiit's head. The bipedal man-cat fell, quite dead. Mahk had the presence of mind to pick up the other axe.

The man turned towards the camp. He began to walk towards it and an arrow whistled past him and buried itself in a tree. He heard the Khajiit in the camp howl in rage. Foe. The two humans charged out of the camp. Before Mahk could move they'd closed half the distance between them. Mahk made the decision to stand and fight but he ran further into the trees, to eliminate the threat of the archer.

Both the humans, redguards both of them, one male one female, reached him at the same time. The female had a dagger and a hide buckler. The man had a Waraxe. The woman moved behind him. The man in front of him. He raised his axe. Mahk, desperately relying on luck, simply ducked. The woman realized what was going to happen just a second too late. She raised her shield, and that was what Mahk had counted on. If she had backed away he would've likely died in this lonely stretch of forest, forgotten by the world. But she hadn't. Her arm was shattered by the force of the blow. The shield was strong enough and the axe dull enough that the axe bounced off. Mahk rolled and stood and grabbed the axe by the shaft, his hands just above those of the wielder. The woman had rolled past them. They were on a slight incline and Mahk had the advantage. He vaulted into the man and both of them fell. The axe fell too and fell atop the unfortunate woman's leg, along with the brunt of Mahk's weight. She screamed.

Mahk was atop the man. He quickly snatched the woman's dagger and lunged for the redguards throat. After a brief struggle the knife sunk into the soft flesh. Mahk stood and took the dagger.

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Mahk belly-crawled, circling around the camp. The Khajiit who he had first spotted stood their with a bow, arrow nocked. Despite his more sensitive hearing he hadn't noticed Mahk approach. Perhaps it was the roar of the flame, or the blood likely rushing to his ears.

The Khajiit had begun edging away from the fire towards the forest. Mahk sprung to his feet and charged, dagger in hand. He slashed with the little blade, cutting the bowstring. The Khajiit drew a shortsword. Mahk grabbed the sword hand and forced it away, stabbing the dagger into the Khajiits chest. The Khajiit crumpled away. He retrieved the blade.

Mahk walked to where he'd killed the two redguards. He wasn't for sure what he was looking for. Suddenly he heard a whimpered cry. He turned and looked at the source. The redguard woman hadn't died. Her leg was half severed and her arm shattered. Mahk considered his options. He realised he only had two. Walk away and leave her to slowly die, or finish her. Mahk opted for mercy.

He felt a sudden biting pain. He looked down. Blood was pouring from his side, soaking his rags. He'd no idea when he'd been wounded but it looked bad. Mahk stumbled towards one of the tents by the fire. He saw a small glass container full of a light red color. It could only be a healing potion. Mahk fell as he reached the tent. He hauled himself into the lip of the tent with one arm and grabbed the potion.

Mahk poured half the contents directly onto his wound and drank the rest. He gained his feet and walked over to the fallen Khajiit. He removed what furs that weren't soaked in blood. Mahk wrapped himself in the furs and collapsed into one of the tents, all his strength failing him.

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Mahk awoke sometime early the next day. He stumbled out of the tent and vomited. He still hadn't regained his strength. The healing potion had saved his life but it hadn't nourished him. He did a thorough search of the four dead bodies. He found several small knives, another sword on the first Khajiit, and a few bits of food. And more furs. In the tents he discovered full waterskins. Despite his limited strength he drug the Khajiit away from the tents to the far side of the clearing. No need to attract dangerous wildlife.

Mahk took his loot and returned to the tent. The fire was long extinguished but he had no remaining the strength to gather the necessary wood and kindling. The furs would have to suffice for warmth. Mahk ate a carrot he'd found, and a bit of charred unidentifiable meat. He took some water and fell asleep.

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Mahk awoke and left the tent. He felt better than he had since crossing the border. Suddenly he was bowled over. A figure was atop him, a knife at his throat.