"You must hurry, K'ara, they are coming!" Do'kir urged his little sister by the hand.
K'ara wanted to keep on running, but exhaustion caused the little cat to break down to the mud, dirtying her red fur further. The heavy rain pelted the young one's face as she stared up at Do'kir with teary eyes. "But Brother…" she whimpered. "What about Mommy and Daddy?"
Do'kir knelt down to his sister and firmly grasped her hand with both of his. A smile full of mud, he assured, "Don't worry about our parent's, Little One. You know Father can fight with a sword as well as he can sell it. And Mother is a tricky one. They will not catch her so easily."
Warmth returned in his sister's smile. She prepared to thank him, but a dreadful cry broke the siblings' moment.
"Spotted two just outside the forest! Come on, you bastards! Get a move on or else we'll lose them!"
Do'kir was about to run for it, but something anchored him in place. He looked down to find K'ara still stuck and drenched in the mud, nearly in tears.
"Brother… I can't move…"
The older brother wasted no time. He lifted his sister onto his back and trekked through the mud and into the darkness of the forest where no moonlight shined their path. Do'kir ran as long as he could constantly making sure his sister was secured in place. But no matter how far or fast he willed himself to run, the splashing footsteps and the blazing torches that slowly gained on him never ceased their chase. His breathing became labored, his legs began to wither, and the arms that secured his sister becoming too feeble.
"Brother, look!" K'ara shouted at his ears, pointing a claw. "A cabin! We can hide in there!"
He made no argument. Do'kir rushed to the cabin's entrance and he calmed his quivering hand just enough for him to turn the knob.
It was locked.
The older cat looked to his sister and she nodded. Do'kir knelt down where her sister came face to face with the knob. Unsheathing a claw, K'ara's right hand worked on the lock. Her brother smiled proudly as she worked. Her particular talent had developed at such a young age, and has proven to be very useful to the siblings, especially during times they wanted the sweets their mother had locked away in the safe box. Soon the door unlocked with a "clink!" and Do'kir barged in ahead. He kicked the door shut and his sister needn't any motion to lock it again.
"Those filthy cats locked into the cabin! Hurry up, you lot! Break down the door!"
The sibling's breaths were lost to their fear.
A thunderous slam banged on the door and wood crackled.
Do'kir stepped back. His sister yelped in pain when she hit a wall.
The older brother's distraught eyes made a desperate search for anything in the cabin. To his horror, there was nothing! No room to run in! No closet to hide in! And not even a table to shelter under! Everything was just empty.
The banging steadily ruptured the door in sickening cracks that spread across like a growing infection. It wouldn't be long before the frail barrier shattered.
"Brother, what are we going to do?" K'ara sobbed into his shoulder.
He crumpled to the floor. Fear and uncertainty had stolen away his answer. All he could do to comfort his crying sister was to hold her tight, doing his best to block the rest of the world from his sister.
"Are you really going to make me get you outta there, Boy?!" someone at the other side of the door shouted. The banging continued. Do'kir gulped. That voice reminded him so much of an imposing man who wielded a fearsome sword.
"Boy! Will you wake up already!"
Do'kir's eyes shot open and immediately met the morning sun's searing glare that shot through his window. He stirred and sat up from bed, light bathing his back.
"Hmph, finally awake, are you?" the Nord grunted behind the door. "Well, hurry up and come down for breakfast! Can't have you dying on me because of an empty stomach."
Heavy footsteps traveled down the stairs. Do'kir remained seated, motionless eyes gazing absently at his claws. His spirit was remained trapped in the dream. He could still feel the pounding, harsh rain and the mud that caked his fur.
Do'kir wouldn't accept it. He couldn't accept it! He couldn't be a slave! He should've awoken in his tent with his dear, little sister nudging him awake. This has to be nothing but a dream. His claws, his hands, the bed, the sun behind him, and that Nord all a dream. But then he remembered the fire, the storms, the harsh rain, and his sister's muddy tears…
If this wasn't a dream, then this must be all a nightmare he'll never wake from.
A decision later crossed his mind when he remembered the Nord. He could just ignore the obnoxious Nord's orders and get some much needed sleep, but the Nord's fearsome sword gleamed dangerously in his mind. After much debate, the Khajiit decided it's always better to have breakfast than having your head cut off.
Stiff, tired, and shirtless since the auction, Do'kir got up and slumped to his door at a snail's pace. And he wasted a full minute wondering if he should open it now or later. His sharp ears perked up at the noises downstairs, plates being placed over a table while heavy footsteps thudded across the wooden floor. And if he strained his ears hard enough, he could make out a small, sweet voice and a trail of light footsteps skipping into another room.
"Boy! What in Oblivion is taking you so long?"
Do'kir sighed and stepped out the door. A delicious scent of rabbit haunch over a hot fire wafted into his sensitive nose. His muzzle overflowed hungry drool. Though, he quickly wiped it off, disgusted at himself. He's a slave here! Not a guest. Hesitance slowed his creaking steps as he went down the stairs. A shirt was thrown at him by the time he reached the end. He pried it off. Venom was laced in the daggers the Khajiit glared at the Nord who sat so casually at the table.
"Put that on," he ordered. Remaining silent, the cat made no objections. Do'kir put it on. The fabric was rough and uncomfortable and already there were places he needed to scratch.
In morning's light, Do'kir witnessed the kitchen in better detail. A crowed of barrels were huddled at one corner of the room while stack after stack of sacks were piled over the other. Shelves that were etched high onto the walls were seemingly decorated with beautiful, silver goblets and plates that would shine proudly under any light (and fetch a high price at his caravan if he might add).
Do'kir noticed his plate had been set across the Nord. The cat grasped his plate. He prepared to slide it across to the other end of the table, but a firm hand grasped his wrist. "Hold it, Boy. I need to talk to you."
The Khajiit showed no resistance. What would be the point? He nodded and took a seat. He avoided the Nord's hard gaze by directing his solemn eyes at his untouched food.
The Nord crossed his arms. "All right, let's get introductions over with. What's your name?"
The cat mumbled.
Angered, the Nord shouted, "What's the matter, cat? Got your own tongue? Speak up, Boy!"
"Do'kir…" he mumbled louder.
The Nord sighed. "Better at least. I'll call you by your name once you've proven to me you're worth remembering your name. Now, my name is Bulfnir Tallowhand, but you will and ONLY will address me as Sir Tallowhand. If you ask me, I don't like the sound of sir, but it's better than you calling me Master Tallowhand."
"Yes Sir."
Bulfnir poisoned his glare. "You're going to have to address me more formally than that, Boy."
Do'kir swallowed down his pride. "As you wish… Sir Tallowhand."
A sudden urge to vomit threatened to ruin his food.
"Excellent. Before I get you started working, got any experience, talents, abilities, or disabilities I should know about you?"
Do'kir remained silent.
"It's best if you answer me, Boy. I could assume right now you're talented in dealing with the beasts prowling around the forest not too far from here."
A tinge of fear shuddered in the cat. He decided to answer in a feverish tone. "When Do'kir traveled with his fa-… his caravan, this one received experience working on farms when Khajiit needed supplies."
Satisfied, Bulfnir grinned.. "Good. I believe these chores will be best suited for you."
The Nord dug into his pocket and fished out a tattered piece of brown paper. Do'kir barely registered it when it waved over his face. The Khajiit went over the list. These chores weren't too difficult. Just the standard clean the house, harvest the vegetables, and feed the horse and what not. All things he could finish by the late afternoon.
"Those are the usual, daily chores it's best I see done when I return tonight," Bulfnir explained. Do'kir gawked. The Nord had returned to the kitchen in a full suit of spotless, steel-plated armor. Light that poured in from the open, front door refracted off the stainless metal and gleamed almost boastful at the cat's eyes. Do'kir's father taught him a thing or two about finding quality in items, and he has to admit, that armor is truly fit to be sold for any warrior ready to rush off into battle. The Nord finished the set as he worked on putting on his gauntlets. He went on speaking. "Occasionally, I might add a few new ones depending on the circumstance. Once I start seeing some muscles on those twigs you call arms, start expecting more challenging work."
He sounded as if Do'kir intends to stay for that long.
Bulfnir remembered something. "Oh, and one more thing. And this won't be a chore for you, but a task. Listen carefully, Boy, because I want this to be etched into your mind and not some piece of paper."
The graveness the Nord bore into the cat through his unyielding eyes froze Do'kir all over.
"Protect my daughter. Make sure nothing happens to her."
A strange sense of duty caused the cat to nod without his consent. Repulsed by willingly accepting the Nord's task, he shifted his gaze away from him like a an annoyed toddler, scorned written all over.
That ticked the Nord. "You should feel lucky, Boy. You may be a slave, but I've given you food, clothes, and a roof to sleep under with a decent bed. If I hadn't wasted over half the gold I make in a month, you'd probably be chained, underfed and overworked, and beaten for amusement by the savages I saw in that auction." The Khajiit said nothing, his scornful expression softening with tears. Satisfied, the Nord turned and headed for the door.
Do'kir was determined to have the last word.
"Excuse this Khajiit, Sir Tallowhand," the cat dared to speak to him in a loathsome tone. Anger mixed with tears, Do'kir scowled at the Nord. "If you think yourself so kind, why didn't you save this one's sister?"
Anger's spark ignited in the Nord's eyes. Do'kir didn't flinch. He fully braced himself for whatever punishment awaited him, but instead was surprised that the Nord quelled that spark in an understanding sigh. The Nord left and shut the door behind him. The Khajiit waited for a few seconds.
Birds chirped. The trees rustled against the wind. A gentle breeze brushed against the house. Do'kir was alone in this empty and quiet house.
His snout took a whiff at the air, and immediately his muzzle refueled in drool. Wasting no time, he wolfed down every single thing his mind registered as food on the plate. He scarfed down an entire bread loaf in three swift bites, not even chewing the cheese wedge he swallowed whole, and scavenged for every piece of meat the rabbit haunch had to offer. Do'kir usually wasn't such a savage eater, his mother had even scolded him for eating too quietly, but his starving stomach roared and demanded food. He was so busy in feasting that he failed to notice a small figure from behind tip toe its way towards him.
Do'kir's ears perked. Licking remnants off his claws, the cat turned around.
"Boo!"
His basic instincts nearly drove him into clinging to the ceiling. What just assaulted him was a child squishing her plush face as she mimicked a roaring predator with hands raised as if those blunt nails were claws. Her intelligent, blue eyes sparkled sweet innocence and her cute smile could melt even the most coldhearted of Daedra.
He barely managed to regain himself. "H-hello…" He was at lost for words what to call her. "Little one…
She giggled.
"What, if this one may ask, is so funny?"
She glanced at him with her adorable eyes. "You talk funny!"
Anger festered within him. How dare she insult his accent! That's equivalent to spitting on Khajiit culture. Do'kir's eyes sharpened into a leer.
Incredibly, she was oblivious to it. "Did you like the food, Kitty?" she asked, excitement balled into her hopeful fists.
Do'kir gaped.
Kitty!? Out of all the years racists have thrown insults at his kind, Kitty by far wielded the sharpest sword to jab away at his pride. Lowering to a slave is one thing. Being a reduced to a mere pet name? Why he oughtta…
Do'kir sighed and nodded.
That spiked her happiness. "Thanks! I asked Papa if he could give you more food. You're welcome." The child stood straight, awaiting her praise.
He scoffed at her.
Her stance broke apart in disappointment. Then a question relit the spark in her eyes. "What's your name? Papa said he didn't ask when he left."
Did he now?
"Do'kir," he said plainly.
Confusion had overtaken her face. Her lips struggled to form his name. "Do… Do'kir?"
He nodded. "Yes, that's right, Little One. Not many can pronounce this one's name, not even Do'kir himself when he was your age." The Nord child cheered excitedly over her achievement. Do'kir rolled his eyes.
He was about to bother to ask her for her own name, but she intercepted. "You're name is funny too!"
Ok, this child is about as annoying as a picky customer. Do'kir sat up abruptly. Better to start doing chores than listen to this child ramble on about how funny he is. He stared down at the tattered paper in his hand.
Clean the house
An easy job to start off with. In a house only sheltering two people, how messy can the place be? Very messy, Do'kir soon found out the moment he entered the living room. It could've been described as a modest living room (with a beautifully-carved, stone fireplace, bookshelves, and a set of nice, comfortable chairs) if it weren't for the fact the whole room was riddled with books, some whose pages were carelessly left open to the elements. Books littered the tables, the chairs, and one was even trapped between the jaws of a bear carpet.
"Sorry…" a small, guilty voice whispered shyly behind Do'kir. It was the child again, hands held together sweetly. "Sometimes, I think when I read too much, I forget to put the books back…"
Do'kir tried to scare her off with another deadly glare. The child could feel a wave of fear corroding her fear. She held her ground, however. She shut her eyes tightly and balled her fists.
Grumbling curses under his breath, Do'kir started piling the books into a mountain near the empty shelves. Occasionally, he took a glance at the titles that ranged from Green Eggs and Ham by Archmage Dr. Seues to The Magical Properties of Ancient, Arcane Healing Magic, Muggles, and What Not by Gandalf. Illustrator: Dumbledore. A weird title, that one.
Curious eyes watched in wonder at the large cat who stood on two feet. Never has she seen such a strange, and yet, interesting creature. The child found delight in how flexible his tail swished and curved freely in the air, awe at how beautifully sharp his claws were, and laughter at how his red fur bristled wildly when he accidently dropped a rather quite heavy book on his foot. Her laughter rose when he started hopping around on his good foot, his hands working desperately to ease the pain on his throbbing limb.
Reeling his face, Do'kir hissed violently at the child.
Fear came pouring in and doused her laughter. "Sorry," she mumbled with guilt. Do'kir bared his fangs when the child came up to him; however his caution subsided into curiosity when she held out to him the fallen book.
"Thank… you?" he said, uncertain.
She accepted his praise with a bright smile.
Damn her infectious smile. The Khajiit could feel the ends of his muzzle trying to curve upwards.
She giggled at his awkward smile.
Interest caught her eye in the book in his hands. "Hey, I remember that book. Papa used to read it to me every night before he started working."
The cat felt interested enough to take a glance at the book. He soon wished he hadn't. The mere sight of the book brought sorrow to him. His tail that moved so freely in the air dropped and his ears fell.
Concerned at the tears threatening to overtake the cat's mesmerizing, yellow eyes, the child tugged his shirt and asked, "What's wrong?"
His arms removed his tears, staining his fur. He shook his head.
"But you were crying…" she persisted.
He growled.
He wouldn't be able to scare her off this time, not when he looked so sad. Do'kir almost jumped back when the child gently held his hand. "Please, Kitty, Momma used to tell me it's nice to help people when they're sad."
Do'kir sighed. Already he could feel his will crumble at her pleading eyes. "This Khajiit used to read this same book to his little sister during dark, cold nights…" he caved in in solemn grief.
A smile formed at the fond memories. The Khajiit remembered waking in the middle of the night to discover his sobbing sister at his side. Brotherly instincts immediately kicked in. He beckoned her into his loving hug. She would cry to his chest that she's afraid scary monsters would come into her tent and stuff her down their throats. Do'kir chuckled lightly. His gentle claw cleaned her tears. Once he managed to calm her sobbing into small sniffles, he'd grab the book he's kept safely in his pack. And throughout the cold, dark night, his little sister slept with a pleasant smile as her dreams became the fairy tales her brother read to her that night.
"You have a little sister!" a hopeful cry broke him out of his trance. The Nord child had her hands over her mouth that hardly contained her gasp. The thought of a new friend fueled her excitement. "When do I get to meet her?"
Do'kir growled. He shoved the book into her hands and stormed off upstairs to clean the rest of the rooms. He walked over to his door, but then remembered he actually didn't have much to clean in his room. He moved on and came across another wooden door. He tried to open it. It wouldn't budge.
"Papa wouldn't like you to be in there" the child advised him. She was shivering in fear. "One time, he yelled at me when I stole the key and took it before I can see what's inside."
Do'kir rolled his eyes. He moved on to the next room and nearly lost his balance. This room was twice as worse than the living room!
"Sorry," the child said, kicking the ground shyly. "I sometimes forget to clean my room..."
Gather the vegetables in the garden
Cold shivers ran down on the cat's spine as he read the tattered paper in his shaky hand. Even with the warm sun clearly shining in the cloudless sky, by the twin moons, it's freezing outside! Constantly he had to rub his arms for precious warmth or else he'd risk his fur freezing over.
Something tugged his shirt. He looked down to find the child, proof of her Nord heritage, unshaken by the harsh temperature. "Cold?" the child asked worriedly. He didn't have to nod to answer. "Papa told me its cold here because we live near… near…" Her mind had trouble processing the word. "Near Skyrim!"
Skyrim… Do'kir had heard tales about that place. He recalled hearing about its gruesome, snowy tundra, it's fearsome predators that lurked shrouded by the powerful snow storms, and how even during the summers the homeless suffered frostbite under the cold. It made him wonder how his fellow Khajiit caravans could brave such a perilous land.
Dark graveness slowly dawned upon him. If he's all the way here near Skyrim…
Do'kir quickly shook the thought off. Any more of the thought would only result in extinguishing the little hope he had left. He trudged on towards the garden failing to keep his sanity while the child, skipping happily alongside him, followed.
The garden was laid just besides the house so the cat didn't have to walk far. It was a humble garden, not too big but not too small. Vegetables such as leek, carrots, potatoes, and cabbages awaited to be picked. Do'kir grabbed a nearby basket. Harvesting them shouldn't take too long. As he knelt down to work, he noticed the child had settled herself on the wooden fence, kicking her legs back and forth as if on a swing. He tried to make her existence naught, but it proved to be a difficult task to simply ignore all her constant rambling. She was like a mini Sheogorath. She persisted with question like, "Where're you from?" and "What's your favorite color?" but what most triggered him was "What's your sister like?"
Stupid… loud… annoying… his thoughts raged as vegetables were torn from the soil and tossed into the basket. Obnoxious…brat who doesn't GET A CLUE WHEN TO LEAEVE DO'KIR ALONE… A sigh quelled his anger. Even if his sister was all those things, he still loved her all the same.
It wasn't long for the cat to notice he had cleaned the garden of vegetables. Being angry really seemed to pass the time. He took another look at the list.
Feed the horse
Horse… the word had a glimmer of hope to it. With heightening spirits, he rushed off to the stables while the curious child barely kept up. The stable he came across was designed for two horses. Though one spot remained empty, Do'kir smiled gleefully at the mare. She wore a pelt almost that of golden brown and a beautiful, long, pure white mane that would draw any customer to persuade this horse their first pick. Not only was she a gem to bask at, she clearly had a strong, powerful body that could no doubt tow an entire wagon of merchandise weighing a ton.
Do'kir's thoughts were accelerating. He could take this horse right now. He could pet it. He could call it names. He could ride it off towards the sunset for all he cares. All the cat knew was that this horse is his one chance to find his sister.
Before he can do any of that, Do'kir decided he must get the horse to trust him enough to at least let him get near. He grabbed a handful of hay nearby and carefully made his way to the mare. She snorted and bucked aggressively at his presence. The Khajiit maintained both his breathing and heartbeat to a steady rhythm. Showing fear to this horse would definitely be the wrong move. It wasn't long before the horse gave up trying to scare the cat off. Her cautious eyes became curious while she awaited for the cat's next move.
He held out the hay. The horse sniffed the food on his hand, testing its authenticity. After deciding this is, after all, delicious hay, the horse didn't waste another second gobbling it all down. Do'kir laughed. It tickled to have something eat from his hand. He stroked the soft, velvety pelt on her neck and she neighed happily in appreciation.
The peace wouldn't last long, sadly, when the child decided high time to squeal to her utmost delight, "You get to feed and pet Epona? Epona never lets me feed and pet her!"
Both Epona and Do'kir glowered at the Nord child. She ran up to them, innocently ignorant of their gazes. The child attempted to reach out with her small hands to stroke the horse's neck; however, Epona, alerted to the imminent danger the child posed, swiftly rose high in the air and kicked wildly her front legs. Do'kir noticed the child was nowhere near frightened, surprisingly, but he did notice how… disappointed she was. He witnessed the cheeriness fade from her crestfallen eyes.
"Why does Epona hate me?" the child whimpered. "I just wanna be friends with her like you, Kitty…"
Pity overcame the cat. Even if she did call him that damn name again. He knelt down to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She turned to him.
"I'm not crying…" she mumbled.
Do'kir nodded in understanding. He hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her into the air, cradling her in his arms. A question formed in the eyes she stared at him with. Do'kir answered by handing her some hay.
"You want me to feed her?" she asked.
He nodded.
Her hand clutched the hay she held. "But… she hates me…"
He shook his head.
Epona didn't hate her. She was just afraid of her. And he couldn't blame her.
Gently, Do'kir moved her hand towards the horse. Epona gazed cautiously at the child. Just what was she planning this time? Another surprise attack? But then she set her sights upon the scrumptious hay resting on the child's hand.
Do'kir's smile beamed happily as the sound of the horse's hooves slowly clattered to them. Though hesitance slowed the horse's steps, the hay gradually lulled Epona closer.
"It tickles!" the child giggled as Epona greedily consumed the hay on her hand. Do'kir chuckled in agreement. He gently grasped her wrist again and placed it mere inches away from the horse's soft pelt.
"You want me to pet her?" she asked in unbelief.
He nodded.
"Ok…"
Her hand steadily approached the pelt on Epona's neck. The moment she came in contact of something soft and warm, she immediately pulled back expecting a painful bite. She stared at her hand, amazed she still retained all her fingers. She looked at the cat for an answer.
Do'kir urged her on with a smile.
The child was about to unleash all her joy through a squeal, but Do'kir intercepted with a claw to her lips. He can't have her scaring off the horse now. She nodded and resumed stroking Epona's neck, a barely contained smile plastered onto her face.
If this horse was going to go anywhere, it needs to be first fed. Do'kir set the child down and Epona lowered her head so that the child could continue her pleasant stroking. Heaving a stack of hay onto his shoulder, the cat dumped it in Epona's stall.
Epona's attention became fixated to the delicious amount of hay in her stall. She removed herself from the Nord's stroking and trotted towards the hay "Aww…" the child grieved.
It shouldn't take long for the horse to finish eating. She should be done by the time he finished his next chore. He looked at the list in his claws. To his surprise, there was no other chore on the list. While that is probably a good thing, what he is suppose to do to pass the time?
A foul smell wafted into Do'kir's nose. He lifted an arm and sniffed.
By the twin moons, he stank! It's like if someone dumped him into a barrel full of rotting fish under the hot sun for days before that someone kicked that barrel into a sea of rotting of fish. He needed a shower. Fast.
Quickly he abandoned the stables, trudging aimlessly around the house. Where could a cat take a bath here? Surely, a place as isolated as this should have some water nearby. But where? Do'kir halted his movements when he reached behind the house. Faint, rushing water perked his ears. His eyes followed it to the source. Almost hidden by the forest life lied a path. He ventured closer, the crashing of water growing, but never made a move to step in it. He gazed deep into it. Rays of sunlight pierced into the shadow of the trees. Past that lied a suspicious, giant, green bush that no doubt something hid beyond it. Do'kir walked down the path, enjoying pleasantly the nature surrounding him. Birds let out their song and the leaves rattled by the breeze granted a good sense of serenity to him. Squirrels, raccoons, and deer ran from his presence, but, to the few who were curious enough, remained to watch him walk by. Before he knew it, he had reached the giant shrub of a bush. Water roared its loudest where he stood. Taking in a deep breath of the forest's fresh air, he took a step.
Traveling with a Khajiit caravan since birth, Do'kir has no doubt seen many wonders of Tamriel. He's seen shrines made of the finest materials and decorated with the finest of gems, statues built to be so high and mighty so that they'd no doubt last for the ages, and mountains that reached the very skies of Nirin. While what he came across did not nearly rival those wonders, it still radiated more than enough beauty to steal his breath away. No trees existed to block off the sun's golden light. Water cascaded down a serene waterfall and into a pool of tranquility where a small creek carried the clear liquid deeper into the forest.
Do'kir's clothes were almost flown out from his now nude body as he dived into the pool. The ripples calmed and nothing surfaced for a while, until finally, his head broke through the water to take a deep breath of much needed air. Already, he could feel the grime and sweat be cleansed from his body. He laid back against cool, calm water and simply just float there, basking in the sun's rays.
Suddenly, his ears twitched.
Splashing into a fighting stance, he glared at the bush that had just ceased its rustling. His expression softened, however, when noticed a bar of soap at the foot of the pool. The Khajiit looked to his left, then looked to his right, expecting to find someone, or at least something, breathing. Strangely, there was nothing, nothing but that bar of soap.
Weird.
But hey, free soap! Do'kir treaded across the water and grasped the soap bar. Its sweet fragrance tickled his nose. He treaded across to the other end of the pool where the water flowed down elegantly between slated cliffs. The water cascading around his body felt like a refreshing massage. Humming a song, he worked on scrubbing off the persistent muck stuck to his pelt with the soap. His fur is going to be shining after this.
Later, Do'kir stepped out of the pool, water dripping from his soaked fur. He prepared to lye down on the grass to bathe and dry off under the warm sun, but an alarming question rang in his mind.
Where are his clothes?
Thank the Divines his loincloth remained in the same spot he left it, but the rest seemed to have simply vanished.
His ears caught another rustle not far off, but his eyes failed to catch the culprit on time. He sighed. Perhaps it was just some wildlife taking an interest at the cat.
And speaking of interest, Do'kir discovered a set of new clothes folded neatly at his feat complete with a towel. First the soap, and now clothes and a towel? Convenient, but strange. Where was all this stuff coming from?
Do'kir closed his eyes and focused everything in his sense of hearing. If he willed his hearing past the waterfall and the flowing creek, he could make out a soft voice letting out a cheerful hum. He opened his eyes and found himself starting at rock. Whatever was humming he would discover just behind that rock. Taking great care to conceal his presence, his head peeped over the rock.
He had to clamp his mouth shut or he'd risk discovery. It was the Nord child humming while oblivious to his existence. She dipped her quill into the bottled ink she sat close by and proceeded to work on the drawing she laid out against her knees. Do'kir stretched his neck to get a better view at her drawing. His chuckle almost unveiled his position. Turns out her drawing was a drawing of him if he were made out triangles and circles! While he did find a good laugh at her picture, he wasn't that fat, was he? At least she got his whiskers right.
The child soon noticed a cat-like shadow being casted over her drawing. "Kitty!" she squealed as she looked up to find the wide-eyed cat.
He held up the new clothes, still folded neatly, to her. "Oh yeah! Those are for you. When Papa said he's brining someone to live with us, I asked him if he could take me to the market to buy you new clothes. I already threw away your icky clothes, but I have more if you don't like your new ones."
Do'kir shook his head and assured her through his smile. Quickly, he put them on. The green shirt had fit him comfortable and snug. And the pants along with the manmade tail-hole his flexible appendage poked through couldn't be anymore perfect for his size.
Cleaned fur and snug, new clothes? He felt like a new Khajiit!
The child rock-climbed to the top and covered her gasp. He looked so handsome in his new garbs that anybody, whether they're racist bastards or not, would find themselves admiring his glossy, red fur. "You look great!" she cheered.
Do'kir laughed. He couldn't describe just how grateful he was to her, so he conveyed it all with a big hug. The child giggled alongside him as he carried her out of the woods and onto the open fields. He sat down, with her still safely secured in his warm arms, and laid back against the bed of grass, sighing contently. A good shower always left him tired.
A deep growl from the pit of his stomach knocked him back awake.
And apparently, hungry as well.
Of course, there were some vegetables gathered in a basket at the garden, but Momma raised no vegetarian. He carefully removed the child from his hold before sitting up, scanning the trees until… aha! A good old apple tree with red gems shining in its branches just waiting near the forest. He ran to the tree at a full sprint then snatched from the branch the apple that had the most satisfying shade of red. He took a bite and reveled in its sweet, crunchy, juiciness that flowed in his mouth.
Do'kir noticed the child was suddenly next to him, hopping endlessly for the red fruit her short arms could never hope to reach. Feeling generous enough he picked the apple and held it out to her on level she could reach. He chuckled at how she gasped in amazement over how tall he had to be to achieve the feat. The cat's cheeks burned a blush when she hugged him.
He stepped out of the tree's shadow and sat over to the sunlight, motioning for the child to take a seat next to him. She gladly accepted his offer, but rather than taking the seat next to him, she chose the comfortable seat of his lap. Do'kir didn't mind. Having something so small and cute on his lap actually felt comfortable. He allowed her to rest against his chest. Sighing contently he leaned back, resting his elbows against the grass and sent his legs out for a much needed stretch.
Do'kir couldn't believe he was actually enjoying himself. He could feel himself sinking blissfully under the warm light that melted away the cold. A soft breeze swept across the grass and brushed lightly his gleaming fur.
Being a slave isn't bad after all, or at least, a slave to this small family of two anyways. Here he's fed, given new clothes, and the chores aren't so bad. And the child on his lap wasn't so bad either, if you managed to tolerate her at least. Maybe he could… stay here?
Do'kir found himself surprised he even thought of it. But then of course, he wouldn't stay here forever. Finding his sister is still his top priority. He'll just have to tolerate this place for a few days gathering and hiding the supplies for the secret trip. Then, once the Nord man leaves, he'll take Epona away and search the entire world for his sister if he has to. No matter how long or how gruesome the ordeal may be, he's absolutely confident he'll find her.
But a question kept nagging him from the back of his mind.
What about the child?
Anybody with a sense of a good mind knows its never a good idea to leave a child alone. Do'kir recalled an unpleasant memory when he caught his sister standing on a chair, gazing curiously at the dagger she snatched from the table and pointed directly at her face. Do'kir immediately swiped the dagger from her claws and scolded her, demanding why she had come so close in poking her own eye out. She answered innocently that because it was so shiny she wanted to play with it.
The Nord child may not be his sister, but he dared to say he cared about her all the same.
Do'kir relaxed his eyes, hoping that'd help him in this mental struggle, but he quickly awakened to the child practically tugging at his fur for attention.
"Kitty, look what I drew!"
The cat groaned. That accursed name is a jab to his pride, but he sucked it in and accepted the parchment.
At first, Do'kir couldn't fathom why the child was jumping so excitedly for him take a look. It was the same old drawing of him smiling at his real self, and yet, this time he noticed he was holding something. His hand held the hand of a stick-figured child who wore the dress of a triangle and had a flower embedded in her long hair. Together, they beamed their smiles at Do'kir, warming his heart.
"Do you like it?" Do'kir's eyes shifted to the child. She had her puny hands balled into a fist over her lips and her eyes were wide and trapped in suspense as she awaited for his verdict.
Do'kir responded with a hearty smile and nodded.
The child broke into happy cheers and made a hug for his neck. Do'kir chuckled, patting her back. He could feel her nuzzling her face against the cozy fur of his neck. And it was a nice feeling. Like a pleasant brush to his fur. "Thanks. I did my best drawing you, me, and your sister!"
Sister?
Do'kir halted his patting to pull her back, questioning the child with his confused stare.
The cat had embedded some confusion to her. "You didn't see? I even put a flower on her too to make her even more prettier."
Do'kir took another look at the parchment. It was still him and the child, but he noticed the hand that held the parchment was covering something. He switched the task of holding the parchment to the other hand. That's when he saw her.
The child witnessed the happiness fade from his eyes. Tears threatened to fall. Concerned, the child placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"
She didn't get the response she was expecting. Roughly she was shoved off his lap and crashed headfirst into the grass. A buzzing pain rang in her head as she struggled to rise from the ground. Once her vision cleared, she noticed her friend had his back turned on her as he walked away, the parchment still clung in his claws.
"Kitty!" she called to him.
Do'kir immediately halted in his step and turned his head towards her.
Fear overcame the child and froze her breaths. She couldn't believe how… emotionless he was to her; however, it seems just looking at her had triggered his anger. He glared and bared his sharp fangs at the child. Without giving a second thought he tore up her drawing and crushed it into a crumpled ball, tossing it carelessly over to the ground she laid on. He watched as the child shattered into tears, but he couldn't care less. Was he really about to replace his own sister with this… this… brat?
Having enough of her crying, Do'kir ran to the stables. Epona had just finished her hay and stared at the cat, confused. His face roared of anger, and yet his eyes leaked sadness.
Do'kir couldn't help but grin at the Nord man's stupidity as he lifted a saddle from the ground. Did the Nord really not think his slave wouldn't escape, that the cat would not take the horse he was a fool to leave behind? Typical Nords. All brawn but no brains.
He walked over to Epona. Finally, he was going to leave! He's going to escape this hell and find his sister! First he'll saddle up, ride Epona out this stable, and head to… to…
Do'kir froze to think. Where was he going to go?
It finally dawned upon the cat. The Nord knew this was going to happen! The Nord knew he'll try to escape with Epona . He knew he'll stop to think where to go. And he knew he'll realize he had no idea where to go. If Do'kir was dragged all the way to the borders near Skyrim, imagine just where in Tamriel his sister was dragged off to.
Hopelessness relinquished him of anger and sadness. The saddle fell from his grasp and onto the floor. There was no point in escaping.
Then a new feeling came to him. It ate away at his soul and urged him to bang his head against the wall to repent.
Regret.
Do'kir dashed out the stables and back to the open grass. He almost missed it, but among the tall grass he spotted the child curled up to a pathetic ball, clutching the ruined parchment in her hand. The wind carried to him her sniffles that brought shame over his actions. Just what exactly did she do to deserve this? After all she's done for him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Summing up his courage through a deep breath, he walked towards the child.
The child took notice of his approach and looked up, then, remembering the crumpled ball in her hand, shut her eyes. She thought she didn't deserve to look at him or even consider him a friend. She thought must've done something bad to deserve his hatred.
Sighing, Do'kir crouched closer to her. "This one is sorry…"
A sudden wind blew across the land and swept over the silence between the two.
He waited for a response. She remained ever so silent and still curled into a ball.
Do'kir realized it's going to take more than a stupid sorry to make up for what he's done. "Please," he begged. "At least look at this foolish Khajiit."
She didn't listen Instead, she clamped her eyes so tight that it hurt just to see her strain herself so much to do it. He tried nudging her shoulder, but she quickly shrugged it off.
"Go away…" she mumbled.
Frustration raged within Do'kir and his eyes glared at the child. He clenched a fist and slammed it against the ground. Have the Divines cursed him or something? First he loses his entire family, and now he has to deal with this?
The child jerked suddenly. It's like something had just punched the ground. Her head rose from the grass stained from her tears to see Do'kir glaring menace at her, clenching his sharp fangs and… crying.
Why…? Was the question that played over and over again in his mind. Why why why WHY?! Damn his life! Why did he have to lose everything? Why did he have to lose his sweet, innocent sister to those monsters? Frustration, anger, sadness, regret, and hopelessness all swirled into a raging storm within him, tearing him apart from the inside.. He fell to his knees and his arms struggled to support him. He wanted to tear apart the grass, crush the ground, and roar out all his rage, but most of all, he wanted his life back. He wanted his family back. He wanted his sister back. He wanted his sister to run up to him and hug him.
Tears leaking to the grass below, his head rose to meet the child. Her hand was clutching the parchment just above her heart as she stared at him with pitied eyes. An idea popped in his head. Not wasting another second, he lunged for the child.
The child had no time to react. She felt his arms encase her into a secure hold and he pressed his head on her shoulder. She prepared to struggle out of his hold with all the might her little body had to offer, but stopped. He was still crying, and she soon realized that he wasn't trying to crush her to death or anything: he was hugging her.
Do'kir knew this was probably the worst idea he's come up yet, though he couldn't care less. He wanted, no, NEEDED someone to comfort him, someone to assure him everything's going to be all right. Just like what his sister always did.
Do'kir felt two small arms wrap around him and a soothing hand stroked his back. He purred in appreciation as the storm inside him calmed. His droopy eyes flickered as they struggled to stay open. He was drained, emotionally and physically. And the petting on his back only lulled him closer to blissful slumber.
He began to rock forward and the child couldn't hold off his heavy body for long. With the child still secured protectively in his arms, he fell to the grass, snoring along the entire trip.
The wind was knocked out of the child. She would've struggled if she hadn't noticed how peaceful Do'kir slept as he held her tighter in his cozy hug. Smiling, she scratched his ears. Still slumbering, Do'kir returned her affection by nuzzling the soft fur of his head against the soft face, purring.
She giggled. His whiskers still tickled. She continued scratching the cat's ears perky ears. His fur felt so warm and cozy and his purring sounded so nice that she felt her own eyes drooping all from it. The hand on his head thudded to the ground. Images of lazy clouds floating across the open, blue sky flickered in her eyes. Finally, she followed sleep's beckoning call and shared her dreams with the snoozing cat.
Do'kir tossed his body around in his bed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite find the perfect position he'd be satisfied with. Not even hugging his pillow helped. Sighing his defeat, he gave up on the ordeal and ended up facing the moonlight that shone through the window.
A few hours had already passed since he finished making the child and him a decent dinner. He wasn't the best cook in the world, only living off from experience he gained about cooking on the road, but managed to make something that'll keep their stomachs full for the night.
The moon had risen to its highest, and yet the Nord man still had not come home.
It felt weird to worry for the man who bought you as a slave and currently keeping you prisoner in his own home, but he is that child's father. And he wouldn't want her to feel the pain of losing a family.
But he had more dire thoughts to think about.
His own family.
Do'kir knew his father and mother are still alive. He could just feel it. He recalled a memory where as if an entire bandit camp decided raid their carriage of valuable. They were a small caravan. Easy pickings for bandits. Both his parents told him and his sister to stay behind them and close their eyes. Minutes later, the siblings found themselves with their parents making a swift escape on the horse with half of the bandit horde dead behind them.
They're not just some street cats that can be killed so easily. They're still alive. They're just… out there somewhere.
But his sister was another matter.
She's too young, too sweet and innocent to fight. The only fights she's been in was when she tried catching her elusive tail. She probably doesn't even know that she has claws that she can use to protect herself.
His thoughts were piling up in his mind. Do'kir started tossing and turning in his bed once again. Turning away from the light, he gripped his head, crushing it. He couldn't stop it. He saw K'ara lying in a pool of her own blood that stained her fur, beaten for amusement. Her sick voice croaked, praying desperately for her brother to help her, to save her from this hell. Then the door to her dark cell creaked open as her head rose from the bloodied floor to see her captor shrouded in the darkness, his sadistic smile widening in the void.
"Kitty?" a sweet voice whispered in the darkness.
Do'kir opened his eyes to find the child standing in front of his bed, holding something in her hands. She was just about ready to burst into tears.
"I can't sleep," she whimpered. "I'm too scared. Can I sleep with you?"
Do'kir chuckled. She's too cute to resist. The cat lifted the covers and watched her snuggle promptly to his shirtless body, clutching his fur. He draped the blanket and an arm over her. A small yelp left her when Do'kir lifted her from one side of the bed to the other. She calmed when she noticed how beautiful the moon was that shined on her.
The child looked up at Do'kir with pleading eyes. "Can you read me a bedtime story?" she asked sweetly, holding up a familiar book.
Do'kir smiled. He took the book from her hands and opened it.
The moon provided the perfect light for his sharp vision to read. Throughout the night, the sweet child in protected in his arms smiled as her dreams became the fairy tales Do'kir read to her.
Do'kir closed the book and set it near the window. Gently, he used a claw to remove the child's fiery bangs so he could gaze in wonder at her. That's when he realized he still had not yet asked for her name. He was about to think more about the subject, but a yawn broke through his thoughts. The child's faint breathing on his fur felt nice, lulling his eyes to close. He was becoming tired.
He held the child deeper to his warm fur, ensuring that no nightmares would dare to attack her, and slept, sharing the same pleasant smile as the child
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