"I'm not dead."

That was the first thought that came to Irina's mind as she stared up into the blue, sunny sky.

The second thought that came about was the fact that there was a blue, sunny sky to stare at.

She jumped up from her rest in the water. Green eyes wide with a joyous astonishment-

"Holy shit, there's water?"

She scooped it up, feeling its refreshing cold escape from the spaces between her lithe fingers, and plopped right back into the shallow pond her feet stood in. Her movements became wilder as peels of laughter jumped from her throat. She splashed around like a toddler. The cuts on her arms and legs became a distant thought in her head as she danced with the life around her.

There was no lava, no bog, broken buildings, or inescapable dread. But instead, the calm whistle of nature that came from the distant bustling of life. Never in her life did she think she'd be overjoyed to hear the buzzing of a fly, but now the sound was practically sacred to her.

She stepped out of the pond after getting her fill of the water. Now her eyes took a deeper look into the world around her.

She had landed on the edge of the lake not too far from a small bridge and, what appeared to be empty, a shack. There were trees as far as the eye could see, about the same size as the ones she could find in the snowy tundras of Skyrim. The sun was at its zenith in the sky, high mountains stretched out on both her left and right, towards the white clouds that barely blocked out the sun's rays from hitting the earth. Despite that, the environment around her felt cool, if not a tad humid, by the mist of the lake.

The tinge of pain from the cuts started to throb once again. Taking a seat in the tall grass, she took out her journal and documented the environment around her. She removed her boot to let her toes mush up the mud at the pond's bank. Dirty feet be damned, she deserved this after fighting off a small army of deformed daedra in a place that Pholeri had probably told her she was going if she didn't wash the dishes when she was a little girl.

The buzz of bugs, the songs of birds, and the distant splash of a waterfall was all she could pick up.

So, Insect life? Certainly. Animal life? Maybe, she'd have to make sure. Human, Mer, or Beastfolk life? She took a look at the house. If there was anyone inside, they either had to be asleep or dead. Considering that she was currently wounded, she didn't want to cross swords if anyone lived there. Not yet, at least.

To be determined.

Putting her journal aside, she shuffled off her armor and shirt and leaned over the pond to observe her image.

She poked at a particularly jagged cut right below her right breast. A hiss of air seeped between her teeth. "Fuck," she muttered.

She wiped the blood off her trousers. Digging into her satchel, her hands felt around for the familiar grooves of a particular red vial. And they felt.

And they felt.

Irina had been halfway through the contents of her bag before a specific small snippet of memory smacked her in the face. She held her head in her hands, muttering curses to herself.

She'd left the vials of potions at home on the bedsheets in all her nervousness.

"So much for the lists and double-checking." she thought.

With potions being crossed out as an option, Irina would have to resort to something she hadn't done since her time in Valenwood. Restoration magic.

Basic magic in Tamriel wasn't dwemer theories or craft, but to the common man whose only interaction with magic on a day-to-day basis is a small flame spell to get the hearth started; even a simple ward can seem needlessly complex. Irina was part of that common rabble.

She closed her eyes to focus. "The center of the heart is the pinnacle of magic in a being." Pholeri's words echoed in her brain. "Imagine it, an ocean connected to small streams and rivers that go through your arms and legs. Feel how it pulses through your veins that connect to the soft padding of your fingertips and toes. Now take a pail and scoop up some water in your hands."

Heat came to her fingertips. A small inviting warmth that beckoned her to draw more and more. She obeyed, taking more magic from her veins and placing them in her hands. Sweat dripped from her face. Her brow furrowed into an unsteady arch.

Fatigue edged at her heart, forcing her to place some of her magicka back into her body. In the end, all she could manage was a short-lived burst of self-healing. Barely enough to stitch back the cut at her waist.

She looked at her handiwork and grimaced. She may have been enrolled at the college, but she was the farthest thing from a mage. However, there was a certain unease in the situation she couldn't unearth. Something was off about it.

Magic, as it was in Tamriel at least, was a plentiful resource. Had Irina been paying more attention to that, she would've realized that the grip of magic here was much, much weaker. The comparison was like that of a stone to a mountain.

But that comes later.

For now, she gathers all her bearings and stands up. Choosing to go northwards, as all the other ways were blocked off by the mountains and foliage, she set off steadily, all the while making little notes and observations in her head.

"Thank the eight Alduin didn't just set up camp in the ass-end of Nirn." Irina thought as she wandered. Her eyes searched for clues. Anything that could point to a rabid dragon lurking around. Tree limbs were strewn about on the ground, with some collapsed on already decaying stone structures, most certainly built by human hands.

There was no trail to be followed, only the running instinct of where she felt she needed to go. She let her feet lead her, taking a mental note of everything she noticed. Something interesting, she thought.

The trees here looked much like the ones found in Windhelm's hold. However, instead of being covered by snow, their colors much better resembled those in Riften. Bright oranges and yellows, as well as brilliant shades of green, gripped her eyes. Her feet crunched fallen leaves as she walked carefully down a steep hill. The sound of water rushing off a cliff roared in her ears, getting smaller and smaller as she left the mountain behind.

But there was something layered under it, muffled by the sound of crashing water. It was sharp and piercing and desperate.

But Irina didn't hear that. Not yet. Not now.

She stopped at the basin. Looking behind her as if she was expecting something or someone. What she was met with was her own shadow.

A slight rustle of tree branches came from her right. Irina had no time to draw her bow and unsheathed the dagger from its sheath on her leg. She took her stance. Muscle tense, breathing slowed as she waited.

Finally, the creature emerged from its hiding. Irina pounced on it, ready to pierce its heart until she realized that the fearsome beast was merely a rabbit, absolutely scared out of its wits.

She gave a careless laugh, one she thought the cave had taken from her. Relief relaxed her tense hand. She crouched down as far as she could. "Hey, little guy."

She reached a hand out to pat its head. The rabbit took its chance to turn its tail and run back into the safety of the treeline towards its waiting parent. Both eagerly hopped away into the shade of the trees.

Irina stared at the empty space they once occupied. She was a hunter by birthright and a damn good one at that. It wouldn't take her much to rush into the treeline, grab the two, and slit their throats before they knew it was coming. It would make a good stew.

But she silently sheathed her dagger and stood up. Facing northward, she continued on her walk, carrying that same tune Pholeri used while she baked. On the tips of her toes were the world, and who was she to deny wanderlust? She had a goal in mind and time to kill. Food comes later.

And so, with one boot in front of the other, she started her long journey into the unknown.