This is just me writing to get my writing bug out. I'm not a professional, or even an amateur writer. I only own my original characters.
No tunnel to gates of white, no warmth at the end of the darkness. Only another life. Tired eyes opened up to see bones- antlers, ribcage, skull. Breath entered sore lungs that screamed for oxygen, hacking coughs following the crisp Nordic air. Sitting up, one would see the body of a female, clad in animal skins, feathers, horns and cordage. A wider observation of the area showed more bloodshed; slaughtered natives left and right, obviously looted as well. Delicate pawed feet slid to the side of the altar, knocking over a pretty purple gem and shattering it on the ground. A faint whisper of breeze carried its memory away.
Left shivering in the partially-thawed forest, a young dark Khajiit girl stood stark naked at the top of a redoubt, arms clutched close to her bosom. Pupils full-moon with terror, tears pooling and threatening to fall. Her breath fanned out in front of her face, floating away into crisp air. Her ears swiveled around on their own accord, straining to hear any approaching danger. She could already feel the cold setting into her bones, even though consciousness found her only moments before. Joints creaked upon movement.
Upon hearing naught but birdsong, the Khajiit girl craned her head around and assessed her situation; she could strip bodies for clothing, and from the scents assaulting her senses, there was a campfire nearby which may mean food. Looking down at the corpse at her feet, her lip curled in instinctive revulsion. The body seemed to be several hours old, blood crusting around a nasty wound on her stomach. These clothes were ruined.
The Khajiit girl began to slowly pick her way down from the altar, stepping over body after body. Items came along; a pair of hide boots, a rusted iron dagger, a slightly-too-long peasant's green dress hidden away in a chest, all blessedly free from blood. These items were hastily donned, first the dress, which hung down low enough to brush the ground. The thin cloth didn't do much to stave off the cold, but it would do for now. Oversized hide boots made for humans barely fit on the Khajiit, her feet arching the wrong way for the flat human boots. Dagger strung around the waist.
Picking her way down the steep hill, she rounded a bend and lo and behold- found more bodies. But this time, they were gathered around a firepit with a food preparation table behind it. The Khajiit took a deep, shuddering breath, steeling herself to ignore the copper smell of blood, then made a beeline for a row of tables piled with fruits, meats, and other assorted items, only minorly looted. The feline fell upon it with gusto, tearing into a cooked chunk of meat with little restraint. Within moments the bone within was clean and discarded, clawed hands reaching for another. Food filled the void in which nothing else could.
After filling her belly until slightly bulging, the girl made use of a knapsack laying on the table, stuffing it with cured meats at the bottom, fresh produce at the top. A few salt piles here and there as well. Another quick scavenge of the area produced one singular blanket with no blood or Questionable Stains on it, a small tinder kit in an Apothecary's satchel, and a couple bottles of mead. The Khajiit debated leaving the alcohol behind, but then a niggling feeling spurred her to take them. Alcoholic is usually safe to drink; who knows if she'd get sick drinking from a stream. Each item made its way into the backpack, except the blanket. The sun was waning in the sky, and little Khajiit did not want to be caught in the forest in the dark. With that decision made, she went about finding the cleanest area and cleanest tent. The shadows had stretched ever longer, and daylight was fading fast.
A pile of crates and an extra tent skin draped over one end to seal the back end of the tent, front pointed at a crackling fire. The Khajiit hunkered down on the bedroll, pulling her blanket close, and settled to wait out the night.
Morning bit hard and cold. Muscles convulsing uncontrollably to keep warmth, the Khajiiti girl lifted her head from her bedroll. Fitful sleep left her groggy, eyes glazed with sleep staring out into the misty morning cold. The fog hanging low to the ground drifted lazily across limp bodies, soon dissipating in the weak sunlight that streamed over the pale mountains. Sharp amber orbs watched tendrils of steam rise from the frosted ground, warm light burning away thin frost. With only a few fitful winks of sleep stolen from the nightmares, the Khajiit unfolded herself from the fetal position she shivered in for most of the night. Cracks, creaks, and pops followed each movement of a joint;
Great, she thought, of course I have joint problems in this life as well.
Rising from the bedroll, blanket clutched firmly around her shoulders, the Khajiit went about gathering wood for a fire. Within a half hour, she was sitting on a stool, roasting a haunch over the flames. Goodness, the natives sure did leave a lot of food out. After eating her fill of breakfast at the tables, the Khajiit hastily packed up her scavenged belongings and set out on the faint path leading down the valley from the redoubt. Nothing behind her but corpses and questions.
Many tiring hours went by as she picked her way through the thawing forest. At one point she came upon another ancient structure, but it was easy to avoid for the amount of noise the bandits within made. That place was at least twenty minutes' walk behind her, but the prickly feeling of danger still tinged the back of her senses.
She swallowed thickly, trying to wet her cold-parched throat. Gazing up into the sky for a brief moment, noting that on the other side of a nasty-looking ridge a faint trail of smoke wafted through the air, and that the sun was dipping to the horizon once more. So, there was civilization, but far enough away that one may freeze before reaching them. She reached her hand up and rubbed her face, contemplating for one moment. She could keep following this vaguely-established path, or attempt to follow the smoke directly and maybe scale down some rock faces. Ill fitting boots and rocks? Nah.
Decision made, she re-traced her steps to the path and continued on her way. Her feet were warm in her makeshift boots and the dress kept the gentle breeze from caressing her fur. She had a good bit of food, and a way to protect herself. All she needed was some shelter.
She brushed past some low-lying branches to find herself on... one would guess you could call it a paved road. A glance up the extremely steep 'road,' a glance down. Instinct says down, water runs downhill and she was starting to feel mighty thirsty from the cold, brisk air. Nor did she want to break into that mead any time soon; a clear head is a conscious head.
With that decision, she continued downwards. Must find water, suitable shelter. The chill of early eve was starting to set in and she knew she needed fire, or else she would perish in the frigid night.
Many minutes and steps went by. She kept her eyes trained on the road ahead, ears listening for danger. A faint crackling noise to her left off the paved path piqued her curiosity. A deep inhale of the crisp air revealed the warm, inviting smell of wood smoke. Reminders of home, of childhood. Weighing out her options, she thought it may be worth checking out; it wouldn't hurt to see if there was a friendly face in this half-frozen forest.
With that decision in mind, she plodded off the beaten path. About one-hundred feet from the road, obscured by trees and a birm of earth, was a fire. There was a masculine figure, clad in strange clothing and a bow upon their back, sitting on a stump beside the fire. The strangest thing about said figure was his bared head, which was a sickly dusky blue in the weak sunlight. It had been shaved clean, save for a small crest of red hair upon his scalp. Dark tattoos swirled across dusky skin. Distracted so with examining this humanoid creature, the young Khajiit did not at first notice that she was being watched right back with bright, otherworldly red eyes.
"Yes, Outlander?" A deep, gravely brogue slipped from the dark man's lips, his hand resting on his hip, presumedly upon a dagger.
"A-ah, excuse this one's manners," The Khajiit managed to cough up after a moments' pause. Her voice wasn't nearly as gravelly as most Khajiit, and she figured she would stand out less if she used normal Khajiit talking conventions. "This one is lost and seeking civilization, and possibly shelter. Would one be so kind as to assist, Ser…?" She trailed off, fishing for the stranger's name. She purposefully shifted her hands so they were in his full view, so he could see she carried no weapon at the ready.
He regarded her for a moment, then supplied rather simply, "I am Telran, of Solitude. Who are you?"
Ah, like I thought. I'm in Skyrim. A beat pause, then, "This one is named Rho'Jita. This one hails from the land of head injury." *
That teased a corner of the dark man's lips up. "Can't remember, or don't want to tell?" He queried, motioning to a felled tree on the other side of his camp fire, inviting her to sit. The newly named Rho'Jita removed her pack from her shoulders and set it beside the log before sitting down, and gracing her host with a response,
"This one truly does not remember. Woke up with a migraine in the middle of the wood not long ago." She murmured, looking down and away; it felt bad for her to be lying, but one figured that hearing their guest came from a nest of slaughtered Forsworn may not be comforting. Telran's face betrayed no inkling to what he was thinking.
"Well, I can say now, you don't really sound like any Khajiit I've ever known, nor have I known another with your particular accent. How hard did you say you hit your head?" Telryn finished his sentence with a chuckle. He gazed into the fire and at Rho'Jita alternatingly for a moment, then poked at the fire with a stick by his side.
Rho'Jita leveled off a deadpan stare at the dusky man. "I did not mention." She said in a slightly clipped tone. Her head still hurt, and talking vaguely Khajiit-like wasn't making her migraine any better. "This one remembers naught but the past…eh, let us say thirty-six hours. This one awoke in a most unfavorable place and felt needed to seek civilization, for the preservation of one's own life. Now, may Rho'Jita ask questions of Ser Telran of Solitude?" The Dunmer made a 'go on' motion with his hand. "Would Ser Telran currently be heading in the direction of any major cities in this lovely land?"
"I'm headin' to Dragon Bridge, then back to Solitude. Got some business to take care of at the bridge. If you're wanting to travel with me there, feel free, but I'm not lookin' after you." Telran supplied this information as he fed another stick to the fire. A branch popped and crackled as a pocket of moisture boiled away.
"This one is most grateful, Ser Telran." Rho'Jita's face lit up in a smile, an ache she didn't notice was there suddenly gone. The ache of loneliness. "It is a relief to this one's heart to see a friendly face in the wood. You have this one's word she will not bother you on your trip."
"Just Telran," Telran grunted his acknowledgement, then drew his knapsack close and retrieved a medium leaf-wrapped parcel, which he quickly unbundled to reveal raw, red meat. The Dunmer picked up a flat rock beside him and placed the meat on it, dividing it into four equal chunks. He then placed the chunks on another flat rock, nearly in the fire. Scents of greasy, cooking meat wafted into the air immediately. "I don't have any spices, so this bear meat won't be too appetizing, but it's food." He spoke quietly. It was Rho'Jita's turn to dig through her knapsack, and brought out the pouch of salt she acquired from the Forsworn. Totally blood free, promise. She held it out to Telran, who took it wordlessly, but with a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
Dinner passed with no other conversation, other than to discuss sleeping arrangements. For tonight, Rho'Jita would sleep between the log and the fire while Telran stayed in his lean-to. Rho'jita could respect Telran's need for personal space with a near-complete stranger, but having a warm body to curl up to would be nice. Didn't hurt that the Dunmer was actually rather handsome. Rho'Jita quickly gathered some semi-dry pine boughs and spread them in a thick layer on the ground, then dug her blanket out of her knapsack. Using the sack as a pillow, she wrapped herself up as tight as she could and prepared to wait out another cold night in the wilderness.
The only thing keeping her horrendous loneliness away was every few minutes, Telran's heavy sleep breathing was punctuated by a bit of a snore.
*Note: Rho'Jita is pronounced Ro-gee-ta.