If there's one thing Do'kir cherished most in this beautiful world, it's his undying love for his innocent sister. Just witnessing one sweet smile of hers can bestow upon him more happiness than what simple gold and jewels could possible bring.
And if there's one thing he absolutely despised in this cruel world, it's his pathetic stamina limit. You could have this cat carry a simple pack of the lightest pieces of dust, then five seconds in you'll notice him fallen on the ground grasping for air. Honestly, his stamina limit is literally comparable to that of an obese tortoise attempting a 1-mile sprint around a pond.
Sure, he's part of a Khajiit caravan that traverses the entire world of Tamriel in search of potential customers. It should be solid fact that Do'kir would have an impressive amount of stamina.
The thing is though, Do'kir is a bit of a lazy cat.
As him and his family would venture the harsh roads, Do'kir preferred to spend most of the trip lazing around inside the carriage, gobbling down the sweets their mother locked away that his sister stole for him to fill his belly with. Only when was he bloated with sweets did he finish the day with a much-needed catnap.
Really, his sister is the reason why this cat doesn't resemble some fat, rich, noble man by now.
"Faster, Brother! Run faster!" a young, red Khajiit sitting on the top of Do'kir shouted at the top of her lungs as she felt the wind rush past her red. The little kitten wore a blue dress that shone as brilliantly as her amber eyes that sparkled with joy.
"As… *huff *huff you wish… *huff little K'ara…" Do'kir croaked out below. Sweat soaked through the older cat's plain tunic and dripped down to the blades of grass that brushed and tickled the soft pads of his barefooted feet. Exhaustion burned his lungs and his legs threatened to crumble right then and there with each step, but his little sister's sweet laughter drove him to trudge on.
K'ara giggled and clapped her little hands. "Now, go faster!"
Do'kir groaned. His sister's constant, almost painful, pats on his head guided him to climb the rising hill up ahead. Every step he struggled to take threatened to shatter his aching legs. At the brink of death did he rise to the top before plunging muzzle-first to the grass below. K'ara giggled sweetly.
His sister's claps were full of delight at the sight of his suffering. "Let's go climb a bigger hill now!"
"Divines have mercy on this Khajiit…" he mumbled into the ground.
And by some miracle, they answered his prayers. Do'kir's ears perked at the sound of rushing water. He rose his head off the grass and his eyes darted to below the hill. Rays of the sun gave the rushing river a golden glimmer. Do'kir gazed up to his sister. "K'ara, how about I- I mean…we take a break near the river?
K'ara placed a claw under her chin, thinking about the idea. Do'kir prayed for another miracle to Divines as he stopped and gathered as much oxygen into his lungs as he could. Finally, she looked back down to his brother and beamed him a smile. "Ok, Brother! This Khajiit would like to take a break near the river."
"Thank the Divines…" he croaked one last time. He rose and half-ran-half-staggered to the river.
It was a shaky landing, but his last sliver of strength was enough to gradually guide himself to rest on a knee so that his sister hopped off his shoulders. She took a few moments taking in the all the surrounding beauty into her innocent, sweet little eyes while she gazed around for a spot to rest. She sojourned at the river's border.
Do'kir found his spot in a less graceful fashion. The moment Do'kir felt his sister's presence gone from his shoulders, he immediately fell flat once again on his muzzle. It was a painful impact, but hardly comparable to the blistering agony that ate away at his legs. There might as well be a damn troll having a feast on his lower half.
Mustering whatever will power he had left, Do'kir hoisted himself up to his elbows and dragged his body to the river that taunted him with its shining allure. He shared gazes with his reflection, the other him's haggard breathing perfectly in sync with his, before dunking his entire head beneath the water's surface. He remained in that position for a while, gulping down precious water almost as if he was breathing it. The cat clung to that position, his lungs burning from the lack of air. At the last stretch of consciousness, his head burst back up through the surface.
He wiped an arm over his wet muzzle and let out satisfied sigh. "All right, K'ara, this one thinks we should head back before Mother scolds our ears off again."
Empty silence was the returned response.
Do'kir looked over his shoulder. "K'ara?" he called.
His eyes set upon a nearby spot where multiple blades of grass had bowed; a clear sign at least something sat there.
"K'ara?" he called again.
A cold, ominous wind answered him, sweeping across the land and brushed against the cat. It robbed him of the sun's warmth and left him shivering to the bone.
Do'kir stood up and trekked back up the hill. "K'ara, if this is another of your pranks, Khajiit does not find your prank funny."
He reached the hill's top and gaped.
It's like for every blade of grass that once blanketed the land below him, a 100 towering trees grew to usurp the Earth. He could not witness its end as they stretched without limit from the left and right. He couldn't even catch a glimpse past the forest for its dark towers' overwhelming height that concealed what lied beyond.
Stumbling down the hill, warily did Do'kir approach the forest until he stood face to face. The towering trees had blocked out the sun's light, thus creating a barrier of pure, dark shadow that Do'kir, despite his sharp eyes, could not pierce through. A tentative hand reached for the forest, disappearing, covered in shadow. In mere moments, his face contorted into a mixture of horror and disgust as he pulled his arm out from the shadows. He stared at his arm as he held it. It felt numb and shook uncontrollably with dread. Whether it be his imagination or not, there was no doubt there were insidious forces lurking within the woods, watching and waiting within darkness in hopes Do'kir will be foolish enough to wander into their domain.
"NOPE," Do'kir whistled to himself as he turned and walked off. "Khajiit definitely is not going in there."
K'ara may be little, but Do'kir firmly believed she wouldn't be foolish enough to wander into the dark woods like some stray cat. Their mother tends to be very ruthless when it comes to teaching her children lessons. Like how to find your way back to the caravan if you're lost or how to effectively escape pursuit of a troll or how one can literally avoid any danger by turning around and walking off to the opposite direction.
And Do'kir would've happily followed his mother's teaching, if only it weren't for the gurgled cries of his sister screaming deeper within the woods.
There were no thoughts, only instinct as Do'kir turned and rushed into the woods without hesitation. Darkness blinded his vision before he burst through some bushes and into a small clearing. His eyes had barely adjusted to the dark and only gave him outlines of his surroundings. The trees had ensured that no light will enter the forest. He'll need to rely solely on his hearing if he's going to find his sister. He took a deep breath, raised his head, and waited.
With every sound his ears twitched, the croaking of animals and bristling of forest leaves from the faint wind, he strained himself to dig through those sounds and locate for any intimations K'ara's location.
His ears perked at a new sound nearly hidden within the woods: sobbing.
Dread consumed the hope he held in his heart. He took a step towards the sobbing, but at that moment the forest's malice had seized him. Do'kir crumbled to his knees, an awful sickness burning inside him, one hand grasping over his stomach and the other forcing his muzzle shut for a hopeless attempt to hold in his urge to vomit out his insides.
Fear shook him to the very core of his soul. He looked up to stare within the surrounding void. Shadows skulked within the darkness, their cold gazes burning into Do'kir.
Do'kir struggled through their paralyzing gazes and stood, charging further into the darkness. His path was heavy with vegetation. Branches whipped and carved into his fur and thorns clawed at his body. Ghostly specters stalked him like a predator would before diving in for the kill. With claws of spectral shadow, they tore into his mind, corrupting it with flooded visions of K'ara's lifeless body, battered and abused, drenched in the pool of her own blood.
"NO!" he cried as he stumbled and collapsed to his knees. He gripped his head, his claws digging deeply and drawing blood. Desperation nearly drove him to tear open his own head and rip out these horrid visions from his mind.
But Do'kir persevered with unwavering fortitude in his eyes. He's going to find K'ara and get her out of these damn woods no matter what! Determination fueling the fire in his heart, he charged forward deeper into the void.
Thunder crackled the sky. What began as a soft drizzle soon swelled to a heavy downpour that bludgeoned relentlessly onto Do'kir's body. The pelting rain nearly drowned out K'ara's sobbing. The forest soil beneath him deformed into a thick slosh of mud. It gripped and pulled and swallowed at Do'kir's every step as if the forest floor itself a hellish gate to Oblivion that the brown ooze tried to drag him through. And so often the forest succeeded, the cat falling with a heavy splash, sullying his once soft, red pelt further with sludge. Do'kir had to cough out the mud lodged deep in his throat before he could call out her name.
"K'ara!" he shouted against the pelting rain. "K'ara!... K'ARA!"
He reached another clearing. A cabin stood in the middle.
Lightning crackled, thunder bellowed, winds howled, trees rattled, and rain shattered around him. It was almost… haunting to see this cabin so still and detached amidst all this chaos.
He trekked through the mud-sullen ground towards the cabin and his wearied body slumped against its door. He stayed there for a few moments, gasping for air. He reached for the door handle. It failed to budge.
Locked.
"DAMMIT!"
K'ara's cries were so close that he could feel her terror and pain gripping and pulling at his fur, begging for him to save her. Anger and frustration boiled to new heights and he rammed his shoulder against the door. Never was he relenting his assault until it finally broke open with a sharp snap of wood. He stumbled inside, hands and knees falling to a cold, wooden floor.
K'ara's cries had ceased.
The door behind him creaked and it closed with a heavy slam The sound of the pelting rain became muffled. Water and sludge dripped from his dirtied fur. Mud had seeped deeply into his eyes and pain encroached them when he barely managed to open them to a small squint. Do'kir gazed at his surroundings. With the pitch-black clouds shrouding the land, there wasn't the faintest of light, leaving the cabin in empty darkness. Do'kir swallowed his fear and stood back up to wobbly legs. Slowly he trudged forward towards the black emptiness. He outstretched his arms to feel for any object likely hidden in this darkness that may obstruct his path. The cat thought himself lucky he hadn't stub his toe yet.
Aimlessly Do'kir wandered in the black emptiness. He strained his ears to pick up any whisper of K'ara. Ominous silence was all he could hear. The air around him was heavy, almost suffocating and it fed to the unease growing at the pit of his stomach. Shadows would shift in the darkness as if a silent, terrible beast lurked near. Invisible fangs would sink into him and inject paralyzing fear into the cat, coursing through his veins like poison and turned his blood to ice. The fear inside him was so overwhelming that Do'kir was just desperate to break down and cry like the pathetic kitten he is. The whimpering cat needed a while to muster what little courage he had left before he could move on. Fear twisted Do'kir's sense of time. What were a few minutes of trekking through this darkness became unbearable hours of wandering in this awful, black emptiness. He could feel his sanity corroding further with each feeble step he barely had enough courage to take.
He may not have been able to see it, but Do'kir could sense the changes to his surroundings. The muffled, pelting rain outside became echoes, then became whispers, then became nothing. He felt rough, wooden floor beneath gradually altered to stone that was as cold as ice. A crushing sensation suddenly gripped Do'kir, choking the air out from his lungs. Darkness condensed around him, contorting into an impossibly narrow corridor with walls that ever so slowly closed in on him crushing him with increasing pressure. His heart thrashed uncontrollably, breathing accelerated to dangerous speeds. His mind and movements were reduced to mush and he could feel his consciousness ebbing away into nothingness.
Khajiit needed air!
Khajiit needed light!
Khajiit needed freedom!
Then out of nowhere behind him came a sound, the loud sound of metal clanging against stone. Its sound was so powerful that it ripped apart his hearing, and so dangerously close that his instincts screamed. Do'kir rushed to a full sprint.
Khajiit needed to run!
In the distance Do'kir spotted a torch illuminating the stone wall it was attached too. Its light was like a small candle in this endless abyss, but having light grace his eyes after wandering for so long in darkness he felt hope surge forth and grant his feeble legs one last spurt of energy towards the light.
Whether it was the shadows concealing it or the hope too bright in his eyes, Do'kir's foot hit something solid. The world tumbled forward. Do'kir's body went limp as it slid across the stone floor.
Do'kir raised himself to his knees. A shaky groan escaped his lips. Pain muddled thoughts. Vision was rattled. Do'kir lifted a trembling hand to brush against his arm. At the moment of contact, pain burst aflame. Seething he drew back his hand and the burning subsided to a small buzz. He did it again, more tender to his touch this time. He hissed and recoiled again in pain. He must've scraped and peeled off both fur and skin during that graceful slide of his, leaving a red sheen of exposed flesh on his arms. Even the slight brush of cold air stung like needles.
Do'kir observed his surroundings. There was the faint warmth of the torch behind him. Its light was far too distant to dispel the darkness in front of him, but close enough to cast the shadows of iron bars across the cat's back.
Realization struck the cat. His body tensed and his breathing came to a halt. The stale, musty air that choked his lungs… the stone walls that were as cold as ice… and the iron bars whose shadows loomed over him…
Khajiit was trapped in a dungeon!
Panic swelled within him and he quickly pushed himself back to two feet. He turned around, relieved seeing the cell door had not closed, and he prepared to sprint back the way he came.
"Brother… please… don't leave Khajiit here…"
A chill shot through Do'kir's spine. That voice… it sounded so familiar yet almost unrecognizable from how broken and desperate it was. He turned around to face the shadows in front of him. The harder he focused, the more he could make out an outline of a figure within. It sat on the stone floor, back against the stone wall, curled up and hugging the knees that its head bowed close to.
Taking the chance, Do'kir called out a name. "K'ara?"
He feared it would somehow sink further into the shadows like a specter, but then it raised its head to give him a stoic gaze with its dull, amber eyes.
"K'ara!" the brother shouted in a voice buckling from overflowing relief. He wanted to collapse to her and cry to her the joy he felt bubbling inside, but now was not the time. He took a step closer to her and knelt down, placing both hands on her shoulders. "Quickly now, let's-"
"Brother, where are you?"
Her question had stunned him with confusion. "What are you talking about, Little One? Do'kir is right here."
Her emotionless gaze spoke her silent response.
He let out a half-hearted chuckle, throwing her question out as part of some sort of poorly timed prank. "K'ara…" he began in a soft, comforting tone. "Do'kir is here. And he is here to save-"
A flash of anger ignited in K'ara's amber eyes and she screamed back, "No you're not!"
It's as if her outburst had triggered the torch behind him, intensifying the flames and, for a brief moment, washed away the shadows that covered her.
His eyes had frozen in place. He struggled to believe at the sight before him. K'ara's frame had always been so small and frail that the tiniest bit of harm would shatter her delicate form. That's why seeing her so bruised and beaten and her once soft pelt be matted in so much dried blood… he wanted to fill the dungeon with his roar and break the stone walls with his rage. Her ears were torn off as if some sick bastard took delight in ripping them like they were paper. No longer did they curve to end in a single point, but in crude jagged ends. And her face… Divines why… her once round and plush and innocent face had been deformed beyond recognition as if someone had bludgeoned it relentlessly with a hammer.
The torch's fire calmed and the shadows shrouded K'ara's desecrated form once again until her emotionless gaze remained. Finally she spoke again, "K'ara cries for so long… She cries for Daddy and Mommy and Brother to save her… but no one comes. K'ara is so cold… so scared…" Her voice broke apart and tears swelled under her amber orbs. Dhe demanded with a cry, "Where is Do'kir? Why won't Brother save K'ara?!"
Do'kir prepared to let out a torrent of emotions flood out, but a calloused hand gripped the scruff of his neck and, with a painful pull that nearly ripped off his skin, launched him back. Do'kir watched helplessly as the world sailed past him. He crashed against the cell's iron bars. Pain racked his entire body before he slumped motionless on the stone floor. He raised his head to see his attacker but only caught the glint of a metal weapon before it bashed against his skull.
…
…
Vision. Darkness. Thoughts. Scattered. Ears. Ringing. Skull. Cracked. Body. Twitching. Pain. Couldn't feel. Numb. Bad. On head. Liquid. Warm. Oozing. Red puddle. Spreading. Eyes flickered. Met amber. Gazed back. Scared. Do'kir. Forgive. Please.
"Brother… I'm scared…"
Above. Metal raised. Came down.
Khajiit. Dead.
Do'kir woke up in an explosive start with eyes bulging out and heart thrashing abou. His accelerated breathing was hoarse and haggard and his sharp claws clung to the bottom of his seat. Every strand of fur that coated him was standing on end and on the verge of breaking off his body any moment now. His eyes darted across the room in frantic panic, half expecting a horror pulled from the depths of Oblivion hanging from the wooden ceiling or, at least, a troll in the closet. But all he came across was a window leading to a quiet forest shrouded by night below, an open book sitting on his lap, and a little Nord snoozing in her bed.
It's like his thoughts that ran wild in his mind all just stopped to focus her. Her small smile brought such peace to the cat that his breathing began to settle to calm and even breaths and his heart relaxed to a steady beat. His bristled fur settled down and his claws unhooked themselves from the chair. Do'kir leaned back, breathing out a deep sigh.
And he closed his eyes.
Do'kir was slumped on his bed, hugging tight his pillow as his gaze stared off through the window and into the light of the twin moons that hung high over the horizons. Tonight, they took the form of two beautiful, bows, one made of silver and the other painted with a light crimson, that aimed high for the heavens above.
But all that light and scenery was nothing more than an ugly blur in Do'kir's dull eyes. His thoughts were trapped in a rotting cage, tortured by fear and worry for his lost sister. How long has it been since he was trapped here? A week? A month? Perhaps even a year? Time had slipped through his claws.
Then the Do'kir's pointy ears twitched when they caught the sound of his door creaking open.
Judging by those small and light footsteps, it must be her. Do'kir rolled his body to face the other side, and he smiled.
Standing there in his brightening gaze was a small Nord clutching a book with both hands close to her chest. Under the moonlight that shone through his window, her fair skin gave off a modest glow and the innocence in her eyes sparkled.
"Kitty, I'm too scared to sleep," she whimpered almost too cutely for the cat's heart to handle. "Can you read me a bedtime story again?"
Do'kir chuckled. At this point he lost track of the number of times he had to soothe her asleep with a bedtime story. He raised himself from bed, yawning and stretching out his limbs.
She outstretched her arms to offer the book to him and he accepted it, tucking it in one arm. He offered her his hand to hold, which she took eagerly as they stepped into the darkness outside his room.
Do'kir's sharp eyes made it an easy stroll to her room, but it didn't make it a painless trip. It's amazing how much fear can strengthen a child. Since the moment the two entered the darkness, Do'kir could feel the tugging on his arm growing stronger by the second. Do'kir's arm was just about ready to pop off his shoulder by the time they reached her room.
Thankfully, the Divines have answered his prayers. The child that tugged his arm with inhuman strength finally released her hold on him and retreated quickly to her bed, cowering under the covers like a frightened kitten. The cat had to coax her out of there first before he could properly tuck her in.
"Story time now?" the child asked sweetly as her head poked out from under the blanket.
Do'kir grabbed a nearby chair and set it near her to take a seat. "Patience, Little One," he told her as he opened the book on his lap. There was a candle sitting on an end table next to him, its gentle light bright enough for even a drunken troll to read clearly under it.
Do'kir cleared his throat. He started in a soft tone. "Once upon a time… in a magical land filled with the most amazing wonders… there lived three little p-"
"AHHHHHH, but Kitty, you already read me that story before, remember?"
Her sharp whine had cut into Do'kir's focus and threw him off guard. He stared at her. "Really?" he asked.
An angry huff left her pouted lips. "I'm not stupid, Kitty. I already know the mean wolf gets eaten by the three pigs in the end."
"Oh, uh, excuse this one then," he sputtered as he flipped and stumbled through the pages He cleared his throat again, but the uncertainty remained to drag down his voice. "Once upon a time, there lived an ugly little duckling-"
"Who became a werewolf and ate the other mean ducklings who made fun of him," the little Nord finished for him.
The Nord child finished the stories before they could even start. Red Riding Hood and her pet werewolf killed the vampire king, Hansel and Gretel ate the witch after turning her into a sweetroll, and the tortoise won the race by default after secretly poisoning the hare's carrot. Soon Do'kir found himself out of pages to turn. With a sigh he closed the book and set it on the end table. He closed his eyes and placed a clawed under his chin, searching his memories for a story. Even with his vision closed off he could still feel the child's piercing gaze that expected a story out of him. There should at least be one story within his mind that he could tell her. He searched and he searched until finally he remembered an old legend his mother used to tell him about.
He opened his eyes and asked, "Tell Do'kir, Little One, have you ever heard of the Dragonborn?"
He saw the excitement ignite in her eyes. Just the mere name 'Dragonborn' caused her to shake with joy.
She shook her head and his muzzle curved into a smile. "Well, Khajiit has a story for you…"
As the twin moons arced across the skies, the Khajiit told her the tale of the Dragonborn. He told her how the Dragonborn was a being with the body of a mortal but with the soul of a fearsome dragon, that the Dragonborn can speak their ancient language, that the Dragonborn could channel the awesome powers of the dragons with a mere shout, that with that kind of power the Dragonborn could tear down walls, defeat entire armies and even rip apart the skies just with a shout. He told her how the Dragonborn is the greatest hero in all of Tamriel.
"Do you think someday I could meet the Dragonborn?" the child asked with eye brimming with hope.
Do'kir chuckled. According to his mother, there hasn't been another Dragonborn since Tiber Septim, and he died a long time ago. It could take many of her life times before she could ever meet the next Dragonborn. But seeing so much excitement in her eyes, he couldn't help but assure her. "With much enthusiasm like yours, then yes, Khajiit doesn't doubt you will meet the Dragonborn someday."
Her small lips widened to a bright smile. Satisfied with his story she laid back down to her pillow, closed her eyes, and after a few small breaths, fell asleep.
"Good night, Little One…" Do'kir whispered.
He started to get up from his chair, intending to make the trip back to his room, but then a yawn escaped his lips and carried away the little energy he had left. Do'kir slumped back on his chair. He didn't need to leave right away. He could just rest here for a while. Not sleep of course. Just rest his eyes, yeah that's the term. Just rest Khajiit's tired eyes before…
Five seconds of resting his eyes, Do'kir was snoring in his chair.
Do'kir's eyes fluttered open. He stirred in his chair yawning and stretching out his limbs, gazing out the window. It seems that the twins moons and stars had already fled upon the sun's steady approach. The world outside was bathed in gentle, orange light that only grew stronger as the sun rose higher to take its rightful place.
His wearied eyes then lingered to the sleeping child. Her warm smile and calm breaths nearly lulled him back to sleep.
"Cereza…" Do'kir whispered. He laughed to himself recalling how long it took for him to gather the courage to ask her name. And he couldn't think of a more beautiful name that could fit such a sweet and innocent child like her. With just her mere presence, fear and unease would shrink from her cheerfulness. It's like he could forget all his worries and spend an eternity content in protecting Cereza's sweet smile.
"Brother… I'm scared…"
A pang of guilt wrenched his stomach. The longer he spent with Cereza, the faster his fear for K'ara faded from his mind. Snarling, Do'kir clenched his fists and his claws dug into the pads of his hands. Blood dripped onto the wooden floor. He should be out there, searching for her! Not be trapped here, protecting this brat!
Do'kir sighed and shook away these thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking like this. He rose from his chair and turned around to face the door illuminated by rays of faint light. His stiff back ached from sleeping on that hard, wooden chair. He needed a proper bed asap.
He took a step forward.
Immediately a jolt of pain that was sent from the base of his tail spread throughout his entire body. He yowled his curses(thankful Cereza was still fast asleep) and fell flat on his butt onto the wooden floor. He groaned and rubbed his head. Something was pulling his tail. He raised himself and looked back to see that his tail was in clutches of the child's arms, his precious appendage hugged as if it were a teddy bear.
With both hands Do'kir gripped his tail and tugged it with all his might, but that child had an iron grip over his tail. The harder he pulled, the tighter she held on. Tension painfully built on his tail as it was stretched beyond its limits. She'd be strangling it to death if it were alive and at this point if the Khajiit wanted freedom he had to resort to cutting off his own appendage. He shuddered at the thought.
"So fluffy…" Cereza muttered, nuzzling her soft cheeks against his tail.
The Khajiit sighed his defeat and released his grip. If they had kept at it with their little game of tug of war, he didn't doubt that his tail would snap like it was thin string. Khajiit was stuck. He could just step over to her and shake her awake, but he just didn't have the cruelty in him to break her peaceful dreams. Then a clever idea came to the cat. Centering all his focus onto his tail, its fluffy tip began to wiggle on Cereza's neck. A cheerful laugh left Cereza's lips and held tighter to her captive. Do'kir frowned. That wasn't the reaction he was going for. His tail then snaked its way up to Cereza's cheeks and wiggled once again against them. Do'kir grumbled when it yielded the same results; another adorable giggle and a grip becoming harder than ebony. This time his tail moved to hover above her little nose. He wiggled his tail again, the soft fur of his tail tickling her nose. With one arm, the sleeping Cereza swatted the thin air above her face. Her grip on his tail was weakened. Now was his chance! With two hands, Do'kir successfully pried his tail from the child's hold.
Cereza's arms reached out to take back what she had just lost, but with silent steps Do'kir had quickly made his escape from her clutches.
Do'kir had already made his way to the door of his room when the coppery scent of blood crawled into his sensitive nose. His face recoiled back in disgust. He changed his route and made his way downstairs already guessing who reeked of the scent.
Sitting on the kitchen table with an open bottle of mead in his hand was none other than Sir Tallowhand. His steel plated helmet was set on the table so the big, drunken brute of a Nord could happily drink his precious mead without any obstacles. His dirtied, blonde, ragged hair swung about as he threw his head up to take another heavy swig of his mead. He didn't bother in trying to show any signs of modesty when his obnoxious chugging could be heard throughout the house.
As he was chugging down that bottle, his eye opened and could barely register Do'kir through that drunken haze of his. He stopped drinking and greeted the Khajiit in a voice slurred by alcohol. "Mornin…"
Do'kir snorted his disgust.
It was always like this. During the rare weeks that the Nord stayed home, a courier garbed in blue light armor would come and visit the man to hand him a letter. Do'kir thought it must've been important if the courier chose to travel to a remote and isolated home such as this. The Nord would then grumble something about "damn faithless Imperials" before donning his steel plate armor. After handing Do'kir another list of chores, the Nord would leave without another word and disappear into the open horizon on horseback. Only after a few weeks would the Nord return in the state like he is in now, dried blood staining every inch of his armor while feeding his drunken stupor with countless bottles of mead.
Do'kir only had to wait a few more weeks for the process to repeat.
"S'ppose you're wondering why this old Nord's always leaving…" he began with a sluggish voice.
The cat's ears perked at the question. Do'kir would be lying if he said he wasn't.
"Always trustin sum petty, Khajiit slave ta protect my daughta when he could jist as easily killed her and take off…" he continued. "Always comin back with so much blood in my hands... always drinkin mead after a lon week of killin…" He took another swig from his bottle.
Fear crept onto the cat.
With the hand holding the bottle, the Nord pointed at the Khajiit. His eyes were heavy with regret. "Ah'll tell ya, I swear ah'll tell ya… someday…but today, you gotta get my daughta ready fer school…"
"Kitty, are we there yet?" Cereza mumbled followed by a long, tired yawn,
Do'kir turned his head around to check on the child. Her fiery red hair that flared under the sun's early glow was barely tamed into a short pony tail, but the Khajiit noticed a few stray, fiery strands had managed to wiggle out of her pony tail. She looked like a draugar that rushed to raise itself from the grave just to do its hair. Her blue dress didn't look much neater. It was marred by so many wrinkles that the fabric may as well be made out of the skin of an old hagraven. And her sapphire blue eyes were so dull and sleep deprived that zombies had more life in their eyes than hers. His gaze lingered onto the purple knapsack that rested on her side. The Khajiit could imagine its contents in a jumbled mess when he recalled the child cramming books in there with the fragile inkwells and quills before she slung the bag carelessly over her shoulder.
Do'kir sighed and turned his head back to focus his gaze onto the open road ahead of them. He flicked the reigns, urging Epona to trot faster than a slug. Epona flicked her mane at him, Do'kir taking it as her way of saying no. "No, we are not there yet," he grumbled.
Cereza released a mix between a grumble and a yawn before she buried her face into his back. Her arms tightened its embrace around him.
The Khajiit wasn't faring any better. There were a couple of noticeable stains on his plain brown tunic and pants that he's been wearing since yesterday. And the Khajiit hasn't groomed himself in so long that large patches of his fur gathered in rough clumps. His eyes were trapped in a constant battle against his own weariness. Do'kir's vision would flicker between dreams and reality. Every now and then his head would become so burderned that it'd dip until his muzzle tipped his chest. As the world faded away Do'kir could barely register the reigns slipping from his grasp. His body became so light that it started to tilt to the side so far that his body was hanging off from Epona's saddle. When he felt the world was starting to descend, his eyes snapped back open and his grip tightened on the reigns, preventing his fall.
Do'kir shook off as much of his weariness as he could and continue traveling the empty, dirt path. A gentle breeze blew by, swaying the blades of grass surrounding them.
"Hey Kitty, do you think it's weird Papa only tells me now that I have school on the first day of school?"
The cat silently agreed with her. He admitted it was a little strange for the Nord to pick today, the first day of school, that the child, whom she believed that she would never be going to school, had to go to school. Wouldn't it have been better to tell her a couple a days beforehand? It would've spared them the trouble this morning when they had to rush out of the house as if today was the next Oblivion Crisis.
"Khajiit does think it strange, but Do'kir is sure it is nothing to worry about," he assured her.
He felt her sigh into his back, unsure whether or not that was a sign that she accepted his answer. A few moments of silence lingered between them.
"What's school like?" she suddenly murmured into his back.
He fumbled with his words. "Khajiit… uh… never actually went to school," he admitted, a little embarrassed. Do'kir didn't think it was a bad thing. Going to school as a child wasn't really the norm in Tamriel. And it usually depended on where you live. If you lived in places like the grand cities of Cyrodiil you're bound to stumble upon at least a dozen of prestigious schools around every corner. If you lived in a filthy, ghetto town run by skeevers, good luck trying to find a book.
"How come?" was her next question.
"Khajiit has been traveling the world since an age younger than yours, Little One," he explained to her with a smile. "Do'kir never spends enough time in one place to devote himself to school. This one's father and mother taught everything Do'kir knows."
"Like what?"
"Answer Do'kir, what's twelve minus four times three?"
Cereza scrunched her face, her brain working for an answer. Then she answered with a confident grin, "24!"
He laughed and shook his head. "Wrong, Little One. The answer is zero."
Her grin fell. She removed her face from his back to give him a skeptical gaze. "No it's not, Kitty. When you subtract twelve by four you get eight then when you times it by three you get 24."
"Your first mistake was starting the equation from left to right. In an equation, multiplication and division take priority over addition and subtraction. The correct way was to first multiply together four and three to get twelve. Then subtract that by twelve. Twelve minus twelve is zero."
Her gaze remained skeptical. She wasn't buying this. "What makes you an expert in math?"
Do'kir chuckled. He could feel her pouted look digging into the back of his head. "Khajiit's father is a traveling merchant and he taught this one much of what Do'kir knows. Math comes very much in handy when you're counting coin."
"And what did your mother teach you?"
"Oh…" The ends of his muzzle curled up to a coy smile. "Just a few tricks…"
Cereza suddenly felt something tickling the back of her neck. She turned around, ready to swat her attacker, but her eyes found nothing but the open road behind her. But she did notice the sudden emptiness of weight on her hip.
"Missing something?" Do'kir spoke, stifling a laugh. He didn't need to turn around to know she had a surprised look when he handed her a purple knapsack.
She slung the knapsack back over shoulder. She was about to ask him how he did that, but Epona suddenly came to a stop.
"We're here," Do'kir declared.
It almost looked like a small town with how the dirt road shot straight the multiple wooden buildings that were planted on the sides of the path. Do'kir guessed the buildings to be about the same size as inns. He only noticed one two-story building that towered above the rest.
Do'kir flicked the reigns and Epona trotted forward. They passed a lone tree that stood a few yards away from the school before finally reaching their destination. Do'kir hopped off Epona and helped Cereza down from the saddle. He offered her his hand and she accepted it eagerly. On foot they continued down the path.
It was almost unnerving how empty the place was. But what was even more strange to the cat was how brand new everything looked. As he glanced at each building that stood on the sides of the path, his eyes failed to find any holes or chips in the polished, dark-brown wood. No cobwebs hanged on any of the porches nor were there any hidden skeevers lurking about. It's almost as if this school had just finished building a few days ago.
Eventually they passed the last building where the empty road continued to stretch endlessly with through the fields of grass. Do'kir was hoping to meet someone who can give them directions, but found no one at all. And he wasn't exactly keen on just going to random buildings and knocking on their doors. He glanced down and gave Cereza a sorry expression. "Maybe if we come back tomorrow?" he suggested.
Then a voice, female by the sounds of it, called out from behind them. "Excuse me, but are you two lost?"
The duo turned around to find a tall High Elf jogging towards them. She had both of her hands gripping the fabric of blue robes to lift them slightly above the ground to avoid getting any dirt on her. Even with her robes covering most of her body, the cat could make her perfectly lean form. She had skin a light gold that glimmered under the sun's light, high cheek bones, and long flowing locks of silvery hair that matched the beauty of her silver eyes.
It took a while for Do'kir to realize her tall frame casting a shadow over him. His words were jumbled a mess before he could fix them into a coherent sentence. "Y-yes, Khajiit is lost. Is this… the school?"
The honest kindness of her smile soothed him. "Why yes," she answered. Her voice was like a mother's, soothing and kind. "I noticed you two through the window of my classroom. I'm assuming the child under your care is here to enroll?"
He nodded, his throat too dry for words
The Altmer's expression grew into a wider smile. "Excellent! Then I believe proper introductions are in order." She held out her hand to him. "My name is Atrerane Athlock, proud instructor of Summerset Academy. A pleasure to meet you, young Khajiit." Do'kir still did not speak, and she seemed to pay no mind to how much his hand trembled when they shook hands. Her grip was firm while his would crumble at the slightest breeze. "All right, follow and I'll show you where the class is." She turned around and walked away.
He felt Cereza tug his arm. "Kitty, are you ok?"
The stress that Do'kir was trying so hard to suppress was released through his sigh. Cereza must've sensed the tension building up in his body with how tightly he held her hand. "It's nothing, Little One. Khajiit is fine."
Khajiit was not fine. He was confused, and to be honest, a little scared. He's never met a High Elf that was so… kind. His past experiences with Altmer usually involved them shoving their elven supremacy down his throat, whether it be through their racist slurs or their glares that saw nothing more than a mere mindless animal. And his encounters with the Thalmor were on a whole other level. Whenever his caravan had the misfortune of running into the Thalmor during their travels, the elves would "suspect" their cargo held illegal skooma hidden somewhere and would require a "proper search". As always they'd find nothing, but even then the elves would "confiscate" a few valuable items for "evidence". His mother had her hidden dagger ready to slit their throats, but the silver tongue of his father managed to convince her that it wasn't worth the trouble.
Cereza's tugged his arm again, breaking his trance. "C'mon, Kitty. She's leaving."
"S-sorry," Do'kir said.
They speed-walked until they were a foot away from the High Elf.
"A quick question," the elf said, never turning around and kept on walking. "Many of my students hail from lands very far so the school has installed a barracks to house them. They're going to live here as they learn. Will this child be doing the same?"
Do'kir shook his head. "There's no need. Do'kir and this child live close to this school." The cat couldn't see the Altmer's face, but Do'kir could tell she was intrigued at the thought of someone else living in a land as empty and quiet as this.
They reached the porch of a building, standing just outside the door. Do'kir's sharp ears perked at the sounds of many children talking and laughing just behind that door. He noticed Cereza staring intently at the barrier that separated her and the strange new world she was about to embark in.
Cereza shifted her gaze up to meet the Khajiit's. He could see the fear and unease creeping over her blue eyes. "Kitty, I don't wanna go to school," she whimpered. Words flooded from her mouth as if a damn she's been trying so hard to preserve for so long finally broke. "I never met other kids before and I don't know how to make friends with them and what if they're mean and they don't like me and what if I don't like them and it's going to be really weird and I think I forgot my quills at home and… and…
"Little One…" Do'kir whispered. His caring tone and gaze eased the torrent of her words. He knelt down and placed a firm and assuring grip on her shoulder. "Khajiit understands. It is all right for you to be afraid. Meeting new people can start as a rough experience, this one knows." He chuckled at that last sentence. "School is going to be a wonderful time in your life no matter what lies your fear feeds you, and even if Do'kir's words cannot convince you otherwise, Khajiit can promise you that there's at least one child in there who will become your great friend."
Cereza's eyes were given new light. She had no words. She didn't need any. She stepped up and gave her Khajiit guardian a loving embrace, burying herself into the fur of his neck. Her hug could suffocate the life out of a dragon, but he laughed off the pain and returned her embrace with his own.
Do'kir then remembered that they were not alone. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that the High Elf has been standing there the whole time. She was wiping something from her eyes.
He gave her back one last pat before parting. "Good luck. Khajiit will return for you before sunset," he told her, grinning and ruffling her hair. Then he left, disappearing from Cereza's view as he and Epona rode towards the horizon.
"Ready to meet the other children?" Ms. Athlock asked Cereza.
Cereza gave her a firm nod. She could feel her fear crawling inside her, but the confidence and determination she now felt worked to slay it.
Ms. Athlock opened the door for the Nord, and Cereza stepped in.
Cereza observed the classroom. A tall podium was situated in front of the dozens of child-sized desks, the desks filled with young children talking and laughing amongst each other. They were a very colorful bunch with skins ranging from a light gold to a light green and there was variety of colors in their eyes, but if there was one distinct feature they all shared among their many differences, it was that they all had pointy ears.
They were all High Elves.
Their conversations and laughter faded into silence. They all turned to fixate their gaze at Cereza. Some of them looked curious, interested at the thought of a Nord joining their ranks. but most had judging gazes that seemed almost appalled at her wrinkled blue dress and her mess of a ponytail, but they seemed more disgusted how non-elven she was.
Cereza nearly jumped at the hand place on her shoulder. "Hurry now. Class can't commence until everyone is seated," Ms. Athlock spoke.
Doing her best to ignore the dozens of gazes, Cereza's eyes stumbled upon only one unoccupied desk, right next to the middle seat of the front row. The High Elf that had taken the middle desk that directly faced the podium caught the Nord's attention. The Altmer had autumn brown skin and hair that matched the golden color of her eyes. She's an Altmer like the rest of the children, but what made her stand out among all the other High Elves was the fact she seemed to be the only one who didn't even take a single glance at Cereza, almost as if the Nord doesn't even exist. The elf had her hands folded and planted firmly onto the surface of the desk, head held up high as if she were masterfully balancing her pride on her nose, and her calm eyes remained centered to the empty podium waiting patiently for her Ms. Athlock to take her place and begin class.
Cereza took her seat next to her, the elf still not batting an eye to her presence.
Ms. Athlock took her place behind the podium and spoke in a clear and powerful voice that filled the classroom. "Good afternoon students, and welcome to Summerset Academy! I am your instructor, Ms. Athlock, and I congratulate you all for having the honor of being this school's very first students!"
Cereza could feel the pressure of the dozens of gazes digging into the back of her head. The confidence she once had shrunk as her fear and unease returned stronger than ever. There were whispers behind her, too faint for her to make out but the cruel intent in them were clear. She buried her face in her arms, blocking the whispers and the rest of Ms. Athlock's speech. Cereza wanted to disappear, to fade from her pathetic existence if it meant she could avoid all the judges behind her.
"-and may we have a wonderful first year of school. Now, let's get started with introductions. Any volunteers?"
Cereza heard the loud screeching of a chair being pushed back right beside her. She lifted her gaze from her arms to see the light autumn brown elf walk to the podium and face the entire classroom. The elf stood like a proud soldier; head held up high, hands folded behind her back, and stern eyes surveying each and every individual laid out before her. Cereza noticed the elf's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before it positioned itself back to face the entire class.
The young elf spoke in a powerful tone that demanded attention. "Greetings, my fellow peers. My name is Arianya Sillonaerith, daughter and only child of the prestigious Sillonaerith family, a family who are renowned supporters of the Thalmor through their generous donations. I ask that you do not let my heritage make any different than any of you. I look forward to learning together with you all."
Arianya bowed then strutted confidently back to her seat.
Ms. Athlock clapped her hands together, clearly impressed to see a child speak with such confidence and volume. "Excellent introduction, young Arianya. Now, who else wants to volunteer?" Her eyes surveyed the class. No one got up from their seats nor did they make any move to raise their hands. The nervousness were written loud and clear on their silent faces. Ms. Athlock then settled her eyes on to the quiet Nord. "How about you, young Nord. Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?"
Her words had multiplied the pressure inside Cereza by a thousand. Her vision nearly went faint her mind swooning. The child gulped, stood up, and presented herself to the class. Trapped as the center of attention, Cereza hunched her body trying to make herself as small as possible. "H-Hi… my name is C-Cereza Tallowhand and… and… I'm a Nord…"
"Obviously", someone snickered within the crowd. Ms. Athlock shot a glare at the children.
"And I hope to be friends with you all!" Cereza spurted out as fast as she could. She shut her eyes tight to shield herself from the rest of the children's judging gazes, and she rushed herself back towards her seat; however, she failed to notice one wooden plank slightly higher above the rest. Cereza's foot made contact with it, tripped, and she fell to the ground, landing painfully in the empty space between her desk and Arianya's. Her knapsack burst open upon impact, scattering her books and inkwells across the wooden floor. Laughter erupted around her.
"Stupid Nord."
"Can't believe she's in our class."
"Another example why our race is superior."
Hot tears burned Cereza's glossy eyes. She remained curled up on the floor, wishing she could just die right there right now.
"SILENCE!"
The laughter died immediately and all heads turned to face Ms. Athlock, who stood there seething with rage. "I want you all to apologize to young Cereza," she commanded. Her words were calm, but her tone lethal. Her personality suddenly shifted to the exact opposite of what it was when the elf greeted Kitty.
Some of the elven children were obviously disgusted by the idea. "But why, Ms. Athlock?" one of the children spoke. "Nords are an inferior race to High Elves so there's no reason why-"
Ms. Athlock's murderous gaze silenced the child. "Such talk might be allowed in your homeland, but in my classroom, such vulgar beliefs are STRICTLY forbidden. Now class, apologize."
"We're sorry, Cereza," came a few muffled voices from the children.
"APOLOGIZE."
"WE'RE SORRY, CEREZA," groaned the entire class.
Cereza stared at her teacher, shocked, and Ms. Athlock returned her stare with a grin and an assuring nod.
Ms. Athlock clapped her hands, her anger and rage subsiding to a joyful smile. "All right, with that settled, let's move on to the next introduction."
Cereza finished stuffing all her books and inkwells back into her knapsack, wiping away a few stray tears. Even after receiving that apology, guilt and embarrassment had anchored her to the floor, and Cereza was fully content on just spending the rest of class there, that is, until a small hand of light autumn brown skin hovered just inches away from her face. Cereza's eyes trailed up the arm to meet the golden gaze of Arianya. Even just sitting on a desk her presence remained as commanding as ever. In Cereza's eyes, Arianya was a regal, elven princess who didn't have time to spare for lowly peasants like Cereza, but here she was extending a hand to the fallen Nord.
"W-Why? Don't you hate me?" Cereza asked.
"Because if you are really planning to sit next to me for an entire year, then you better show yourself some dignity," Arianya answered in a stern voice, Her golden eyes lacked kindness, but nor was there any hatred or disgust. Those were the eyes of someone who had expectations.
With a smile brimming with gratitude, Cereza took Arianya's hand.
Cereza took a moment to look up at the dark orange sky. Every passing moment the sun grew fainter as it sunk lower beneath the horizon. The stars and the two moons seized their chance. Each second a new star popped up in the sky, small but proudly showing its light within the blanket of darkness. The two moons began as phantoms in the sky, hardly noticeable unless you gave them a hard squint, but the more the sun's light faded from the world the more the two moons materialized in the darkening sky to take their rightful place.
Cereza sighed and continued her sullen walk down the path, dragging her feet through the dirt along the way.
After that fall of hers, the rest of the day became somewhat of a blur. She could only recall spending most of the afternoon praying to the Nine for the day to be over. And as soon as Ms. Athlock concluded class, Cereza was the first to rush out of the door and escape the judging stares of the other children.
She stopped to look to take in the view in front of her. She had already passed the last school building so now the path continued on through the empty fields of grass.
"Kitty, where are you?" Cereza whispered to the setting sun.
The sun was showing its last signs of life with the faintest of orange light and her Khajiit guardian was nowhere in sight. It was almost completely dark now, but Kitty wouldn't mind if she decided to meet him halfway down the road, right? Cereza let out one last sigh before she continued on the darkening path.
She walked a few yards, passing the lone tree.
"What's the matter, kid? Someone stole your sweetroll?"
A yelp almost escaped her lips but Cereza managed to pull it back in time and keep her composure. She gulped down the lump in her throat before turning around to meet the speaker.
He was a thin man that lacked so much muscle and fat Cereza would've believed him a skeleton if he didn't have skin that was stained with so much dirt. There wasn't a single trace of hair on his head, but he sported a ragged, brown beard so filthy and mangled that Cereza swore she saw a few bugs crawling inside it. He wore a roughspun tunic and tattered pants, but what caught Cereza's attention was the pairs of iron gauntlets and boots he wore that showed years of rust.
He was leaning back against the tree, arms crossed and flashing a smile missing dozens of teeth. "Let me guess…" he spoke in the slithery tone of a snake that sickened the child. "Met a bunch of strangers who treated you like dirt… getting picked on fer being different… your self-esteem crushed… overall your first day of school's not matching the way ya pictured it. How you've been slouching in yer walk tells it all."
The stranger's accurate guess had stripped her of her words. She could only nod in response.
The man smirked and stepped closer to her from his spot. "Lucky for you, I got a little solution that'll make all your problems fade like dreams." From his pocket the man produced a small, glass vial. He tossed it towards her and she barely caught it with her two hands. "Consider that a free sample."
Cereza inspected the vial, examining every inch of it as violet liquid sloshed within. She pulled the cork out to take a whiff of its contents. A sudden wave of warmth washed over Cereza, almost causing her to fall back when the sweet scent flooded her nose. For a split second, a purple haze clouded her vision and her thoughts became mush. She looked up at the man, silently asking him what to do next.
"Go on… take a sip…". His dark eyes were goading her.
Cereza gave him an obedient nod. If this liquid was going to help her forget today, then she'd gladly do it. She raised her head and lifted the vial to her lips.
"Little One!" Do'kir shouted as he leapt from Epona's saddle and rushed to the child, snatching away the vial before even a drop could enter her lips. He raised the vial to his snout and sniffed. Immediately a wave of warmth caused him to stumble back as he recognized the purple haze that briefly clouded his vision. Do'kir snarled viciously at the vial before chucking it far away with all his strength, its violet liquids spilling into the grass.
"A Khajiit, huh? I thought yer kind was into that stuff," he heard the skeletal man chuckle.
Do'kir hissed dangerously at the man, stepping in front of Cereza to serve as a protective shield. "Khajiit can't let you sell skooma to children!"
"A scrawny cat trying to play hero?" The man gave Do'kir a disappointed sigh. "Hate to do this in front of a kid, but I can't have you ruining my business." The man raised his gauntlets.
Do'kir's head swiveled to see the child behind him. He shouted to her in frantic panic, "Little One! Get away from-"
Cereza shrieked in terror when an ironed fist came crashing against Do'kir's skull. The cat slid and sprawled against the grass, groaning out his pain. He tried to lift himself up but another iron fist bashed his skull back to the ground. He then felt the man's weight sit itself on top of him. Do'kir could have easily thrown the skeletal man off him, but his body was racked with so much pain that it chained him to the ground. All the cat could do now was lay there and pray to the twin moons.
Do'kir squinted an eye opened to see the twin moons shine the man sitting on top of him who gave the cat a wicked smile. Metal fist after metal fist came crashing down on Do'kir's head. The man's thin body lacked power, but his iron gauntlets gave his strikes plenty of impact to create the cracks on Do'kir's skull.
…
…
Vision. Fading. Pain. Numbing. Skull. Cracking. Blood. Oozing.
The man ceased his assault, but the wickedness in his eyes remained. "Sorry kid, but I think I've had my fun long enough." He unsheathed an iron dagger.
Within his dying thoughts, Do'kir recalled a memory of the last skooma incident he encountered. He remembered holding his crying sister tightly to him as the blade wielded by the Khajiit mercenary his caravan had hired to protect them was inches from his throat. He remembered the insanity festering in the mercenary's eyes as he demanded where the two hid his precious skooma, never believing Do'kir that they had nothing to do with his skooma. Just when he recalled how he felt the tip of the blade about to puncture his throat, his mother suddenly appeared behind the crazed mercenary, a dagger ready to slit his throat. "Cover her eyes," he remembered his mother whispering to Do'kir before the he heard splatter of blood soak his fur.
But Do'kir was now alone. No Mother to save him.
Mustering the little strength he had left, Do'kir tilted his head to the side and found Cereza on ground, trembling and staring back at Do'kir with fearful eyes.
Please. Do'kir. Forgive.
The man raised his dagger, the bladeglinting in the moonlight.
"Kitty… I'm scared…"
Cereza watched Do'kir's eyes widen. Time had frozen between the two, Cereza's helpless and fearful gaze returned with Do'kir's blank, empty one. But then she watched in awe as a great fire of rage ignited in his eyes.
The man aimed and brought down his dagger and Cereza heard blood splatter.
Khajiit! Protect!
"What the-" the man barely breathed out before swift claws raked against his eyeballs. He screamed out in pain before throwing himself off Do'kir. With both hands he desperately tried to block the blood the poured out from his face.
Cereza watched in disbelief as Do'kir pulled out the dagger that had stabbed through the palm of his hand. The cat spat the blood out his muzzle and pushed himself back to two feet.
The man stared at Do'kir, the insanity in his eyes intensified by the pain. Three, red claw marks had ripped across his face, dripping blood. "Nice little trick ya did there," the man said in a crackling voice. "Stopping my dagger with the palm of your hand just before the blade could get ya in the eye."
Do'kir hissed and readied his claws. Blood poured from the open wound on the palm of his right hand.
"But no more fun and games… this time I'm gonna-"
The man never got to finish his sentence. Out of nowhere a small, blue sphere of light was launched and entered the man. The insanity in his dispersed and replaced by a mindless daze. And he just stood there, silent and motionless as a rock.
"Thank the Divines, I made it in time!" the tall, eleven woman Do'kir had met earlier toady said as she rushed towards the stunned Cereza. She had both hands on the child's face, tilting in every direction to inspect every corner. "Are you all right?"
"I-I'm fine," she whimpered. "But Kitty…"
Cereza's trembling hand pointed to the injured Khajiit. Pity consumed the elf. She rushed to Do'kir's side and knelt down to his level. He flinched when she placed both hands on his cheeks.
"It's ok," the elf soothed him. "It's just going to be a little Restoration magic…"
Golden light flooded the elf's hand and a surge of energy entered the cat. He heard cracks in his head but it felt as if his skull was working to repair itself. And the numbing pain he felt was drained away to the point he could finally feel the elf's gentle hands on his cheeks.
"Now, give me your hand…" He offered her his injured hand and she held it in her palm.
Do'kir watched in disbelief as the same golden light wrapped around his hand, slowly closing the open hole, reducing it to a scar, and then the scar faded entirely. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the child had been watching the entire process with wide eyes and mouth agape in awe.
He asked her how she knew what was going on, and she explained to him that an elven child named Arianya noticed a scuffle taking place a few yards from the school. Arianya did what she thought was the most appropriate action and immediately informed her teacher.
"And what's going to happen to that skooma dealer?" Do'kir asked, glancing over to the motionless man.
A dark look streamed across the elf's eyes. "Oh, don't you worry about that. You two should just focus on getting home…"
"Hmm…" Tallowhand said gazing at the Khajiit with eyes deep in thought. He wanted to ask his daughter a couple of questions concerning the school she enrolled in, but when he saw his Khajiit slave come back to the house with his fur drenched in blood and a look of horror plastered in his daughter's face, priorities changed.
Do'kir took in a deep breath. He just finished explaining to Sir Tallowhand everything that's happened through a lengthy story he told without taking a single breath.
"Boy…" the Nord said in a quiet but demanding tone.
"Y-Yes, Sir Tallowhand?" Do'kir asked, unsure what to make of the fierceness in the Nord's eyes.
"I think it's about time I start training you how to wield a sword…"
Author's Notes
Yo, what's up guys. Author here. To answer some questions, right now the story is happening about a decade before the events of Skyrim take place, you know the event of your wagon ride to Helgen to get your head cleaved off. Also, yes Do'kir is a teenager, 17 to be exact.
If you liked this story and wish for it to continue, please favorite, follow, and review about what you liked or disliked about this chapter. And also please feel free to put down your questions in your review. I'll be sure to answer them next chapter.