Thank you so much to anyone who added this story to their alert or clicked the magical review button. you guys are the greatest. I'm not altogether sure i liked this chapter so much... but it had to be done.

And so, without further ado, the second chapter!

Flying through the haze wasn't anything strange. There was no gut wrenching, ear popping pull. It was the same as every ghost portal he had ever been through, here then there. The only difference was that once he was through the haze, it disappeared. A guard gasped at his sudden appearance behind the khajiit target, shifting his arrow's aim from the khajiit to Danny. Several guards followed his example, more scared of an ethereal being than a simple thief. Adarji saw this as an opening and let her arrow fly. It embedded itself in a guard's forehead with a dull thunk and a spray of blood. Making a decision to not let anyone else get hurt, Danny went intangible, grabbed our khajiit thief, and flew threw the shocked guards.

He felt a tinge in his head as Clockwork's warning came to mind. He wouldn't last long, and he needed a place to sit down. Spying a copse not far from the wooden house he had left, he rushed to reach it as the illness crept back. Clockwork's medicine - skooma, was it? - was not going to last much longer. Not that the struggling khajiit beneath him was helping.

The return of the illness was nothing subtle. He steadily dropped lower and lower, unable to maintain his flight through the air. He crash-landed before a black horse and a dark campsite not far inside the copse. Adarji had managed to roll to her feet as Phantom skidded to a stop against a tree. As his vision went fuzzy, he saw her grab a dagger from her side and rush at him. Then, it was back to the land of hallucinations and ghosts.

(Adarji)

After that being had grabbed me in the house, I felt sure that today was the day that Nocturne would take her payment. A khajiit like me, even a dragonborn, can only have a run of good luck for so long. I thought it would be the end, not just to be thrown in jail or to miraculously escape. No, the end of life itself. The being glowed with an ethereal light, but no more could I see. For it was then that he hurtled at the wall. What a death for the mighty dragonborn who took down Alduin, the world eater. To be smashed against a wall. Oh, how the bards would tell tales of her.

But that was not to be had, for instead, it flew me through the wall. Intangible, as is only a spirit. But why not kill me then and there? Why drag me off? To sacrifice me to a daedric prince that had bound it in death? Or was it working for a necromancer who had a grudge? These thoughts and a million more rushed through my head as he carried me towards the small copse of pines where I had tied my horse and set up a camp to wait for nightfall. I hadn't wanted to seem suspicious, hanging around the town all day.

The being sagged suddenly, jerking me back to the realization that I should escape it before I got stuck in something I couldn't get myself out of. And so, like any helpless (or not so) damsel in distress, I struggled. That was all that I could do as it gripped my arms, ridding me of any hope for a weapon. My hands were numb from the amount of weight that was suddenly upon them. So neither could I stab nor scratch him. No, just struggle. And so struggle I did, encouraged by the sight of the ground nearing my feet. Either his destination was my camp or I was getting somewhere. As he entered the trees my feet brushed the ground. Ah, sweet ground! Khajiit were not meant for the air. No sooner had my feet skimmed the decay than did this being drop me and slam against the ground. With a quick roll I sprang to my feet and whipped a dagger from my side. Thudding to the ground in a shower of needles, the being came to a stop at the bottom of a tree.

My first look at him was surprising, for indeed it resembled a human boy. One not old enough to shave, at that. He had white hair and skin much like an Imperial's. He wore strange clothing of black and white, a white rune across his chest. He looked sickly, his eyes fluttering open and closed. But I was not about to leave my death in the hands of fate, so I sprung forward to kill before I could be killed.

His eyes fluttered once more with acceptance of his fate as I neared. No sooner had I reached his side, ready to strike, when a ring appeared around his body. Jumping back, I swore. This ring glowed with the same ethereal light that surrounded the spirit. Not knowing what to do and not wanting to get zapped by an unknown magic, I stood crouched not too far away, watching dumbly as the ring split into two which traveled away from each other along his body.

Once gone, a normal boy was revealed, no longer glowing. He now had the dark hair of an Imperial and the pale skin of a Nord. He wore strange garments, at best guess a white tunic dyed red in places, along with pants of a blue fabric I didn't recognize. But his face looked so sickly. Whatever the boy was, he was in need of help. I was not a child killer, for that crossed the line.

So, I stood cautiously and prodded him with a foot. He shivered fiercely and emitted a small groan, but did not stir. I sheathed my dagger and crouched next to his face. Placing the back of one furry hand against his forehead, I gasped. Even a khajiit like me knew what temperature a person shouldn't reach, and this was far beyond that. Knowing that no person, human or not, could withstand such a fever for long, I wasted no time in picking him up.

He was unnaturally thin, every rib protruding from his chest. This child, whatever he was, had not been well in a long time. Hurrying him to my bedroll, I laid him down and began to work. I was most certainly not a master healer, but knew the basics of a healing spell, as any adventurer worth their septims should. He would need a master, that much was obvious. But Whiterun was a good hour's ride from this small town, and the boy didn't appear well enough to last that long.

Kneeling, I spread my hands over the shivering wretch and began to murmur. On through the night I murmured, the moon becoming brighter and the wolves beginning to howl. My stomach growled and exhaustion gnawed at the edges of my vision; it was not until I could speak no more that I quit. While the boy looked no worse for wear, he looked no better either. It seemed that a small healing spell like mine would not help the raven haired boy.

I sat back on my heels and gathered myself. What else could I do for the boy? My pack caught my eye and I snatched it from the ground, rummaging through it for the three things that might help him: a large red bottle, the most potent healing potion I had; a small opaque bottle, a potion of disease cure that had been a pain to get my hands on; and lastly, a small green bottle that had contributed to the khajiit's bad name. Skooma.

I hated this drug, this drug that had taken my mother. But traveling with it was a must, for at times when one couldn't go on, a little skooma could always get them on their way. Setting down my bag and hurrying to his form with the three bottles, I gently picked his head up far enough to pour the liquids down his throat. The healing potion did little more than stall his shivering, and the potion to cure disease was simply wasted.

As I held the skooma in my clawed hand, I despised myself for what I had to do. Despite the fact that it was the only option I had left, I did not want to introduce someone to a drug like skooma. Shutting my thoughts off there, I forced myself to remove the stopper and pour this drug, this killer, down his throat.

(Danny)

For starters, I kind of remembered the cat-tiger… thing rushing at me with a dagger. And then there were the hollow dreams and vivid hallucinations. I remember darkness and two glowing spots moving above me. I remember the familiar feel of the skooma; not the feeling of almost normalness, but the feeling of not dying. Something furry behind me reached around me and yelled as we bumped through the night. There was a helmed man, too, worry in his eyes as he waved us into a fortress.

A robed woman gasped a little worriedly as she me ushered somewhere. A while later, I thought I heard chanting and saw a faint glow. Between those memories, which were actually more feelings than memories, were more of the terrors called hallucinations. I would call them living nightmares, 'cause they definitely seemed more real than life.

Even now, as I opened my eyes, things didn't seem real. The edges of the world were fuzzy, just like one of the concerned faces above me. But this world had to be real, right? Still, the green eyes of the fuzzy face were pale, not piercing, as they would have been in a dream. A groan escaped my lips as I struggled to sit. A hooded woman with exhaustion plain on her face pushed me back down.

"Don't," she said, her voice soft yet firm at the same time. "We just barely saved you, and I do not want that work to be for nothing. Thank Kynareth you are alive."

The cat-tiger said nothing, instead choosing to walk silently to a pillar and lean against it. She seemed happy to be able to watch me from a distance. I could just barely focus on her face without fuzz eating the image away. She really looked like a tiger, with reddish-orange forehead and darker red around the eyes. She was white around the muzzle and cheeks, her whole face streaked with black stripes not unlike a tiger's, but not like a tiger's either. Three large scars marred what I think would be called the bridge of her nose.

"Yes?" A sly, almost raspy voice asked.

It took me a long time to realize it was her talking to me, as I hadn't at all expected her to be able to talk, what with her not being human and all. But either way, I didn't have much room to talk about not being human, did I? So instead, not wanting to offend someone who obviously held no qualms about killing, I thought carefully before opening my mouth.

"Where are we?" That seemed to be the safest question I could ask.

"Whiterun, the temple of Kynareth."

There it was. A little bit longer than the first chapter but still not as long as i would like it to be. Does Danny seem ooc to anyone but me? He DID have 2 doses of skooma in a relatively short period of time and come back from the brink of death... but... Anyways, on your way out make sure you click the magical review button down there at the bottom. Those who don't are getting an arrow to the knee or a gaint's kick to the arse. Those who do can have a virtual cookie!