It was bitterly cold. The northern winds of Skyrim, the snow and ice of the frozen waters around her, the blood dripping from her claws.

The silence in the air, the corpses at her feet, the life that she had known, now ended.

Her tail swished solemnly, the black fur matted in freezing blood, grime and snow. She leaned down, prying an iron mace from the broken fingers of one of the bandits.

Her friends.

Her family.

No more.

Just like before.

Elsweyr was warmer, the green and the trees of her homeland. But the hurt was the same. Her exile, a child thrust into the wilderness she could not survive, had wreaked havoc on the impressionable kitten. When succour and salvation came in the form of a roving band of outlaws of all things, had she truly been in any position to refuse? Dreams of adventure gave way to mere survival, fighting and murder became but a way of life.

A caravan here. A hamlet here. Food, weapons, gold. Anything they could take, they would. Such was a bandit's lot in life, to rob and pillage until the headsman's axe finally came down.

Not the life she had envisioned prior to her abandonment. Not the life she desired or even liked. The suffering inflicted for her own sake, it rotted the soul one robbery at a time. But her peers, they had practically raised her. Saved her from being munched by the first beast she came across, or otherwise starving to death. They had become her family, and she to them.

Or so it had seemed.

But as her thoughts turned to adventure once more, her dreams reigniting as her tolerance for their lifestyle ran its course, that bond proved but an illusion.

It had been quite sudden. She had never spoken of her plans to leave their side, to live another life as an adventurer. But they knew. Somehow, they knew. And they did not approve.

It had been in an instant. The khajiit had been warming herself by the fire, their wooden vessel lying recently battered and broken against the ice. The bandit crew, herself included, had little hope of getting it afloat again. So, once the snow had settled and the ice cleared, they would delve inland closer to Solitude.

They were well known to Skyrim's capital city, each holding quite the bounty for their collective heads. Not underserved, but none of them were willing to see their necks split quite yet. But with their ship gone, survival would mean targeting caravans on the road, despite the guard presence in the area.

But it never came to that.

With the fire crackling, a particularly desperate wolf seemed to decide the three nords and one khajiit would make an excellent snack.

The scrawny mutt hadn't lasted long. Her ears had twitched as the creature approached, the woman looking up to see its starved eyes reflecting the fire's light. She'd stood, rushing past the others as a dagger was drawn from her belt. The wolf charged back at her, growls and snarls echoing in the air as it made one desperate lunge for her flesh, only for the khajiit's dagger to meet his gullet as the beast's life drained in a single whimper.

The bandits chose that moment to make their displeasure known.

The first came at her with a short iron blade, only a glimpse of a shadow giving her time to move aside and avoid a killing blow. Her dagger left behind in the wolf's corpse, she looked up in shocked horror as her family all drew their weapons against her.

A blade, a mace and a bow. All directed at the disarmed bandit they once called sister.

What happened next was pure instinct, a fit of feral anger possible of any khajiit born beneath the moons of Nirn. As the sword swung again, her claws came free and a single swipe ripped the flesh from the bandit's neck, the nord falling to his knees as he drowned in his own blood.

An arrow came free, the khajiit moving aside the crude projectile as she ran towards the next bandit in her path. This one, a woman, swung her mace towards her as an armoured arm was raised to block the strike. They met, the crude leather doing what it could while a snap indicated that something inside the appendage had given way.

But she didn't care, her already bloodied claws striking forth and embedding themselves into the woman's face. She screamed, clutching the mace tighter while being rendered unable to act from the sheer pain she was being subjected to.

Another arrow flew.

It hit the wrong target, the screams silencing as the khajiit tossed the body aside and rushed the final of her former friends. The look on the final bandit's face was pure panic as they attempted to nock another arrow, but they were too late to do anything as the weapon was torn from their grasp and the khajiit pounced upon them. Any attempts at defence were feeble, fists were little match for claws as the man was torn apart, his dying gasps becoming gargles as he slipped into the icy water and vanished into the depths.

And then came the silence.

She stared at the mace now in her hand, the throbbing in her arm now increasing as whatever primal nature had infected her thoughts began to ebb away. She hissed in pain, latching the mace to her belt before her left hand lit up with a fantastic ethereal glow. Her arm was quickly soothed, the magics spreading around the wounded area and mending what it could.

When the healing spell was released, she let out a sharp gasp as exhaustion soon came upon her. But she couldn't stay here, not amongst the bodies of her last family.

Once again, she had been cast out. Abandoned. Betrayed. Alone in a wilderness that nobody should suffer without company, with a bounty on her head and no idea of where to go. And this time, she doubted anybody would take pity on her.

"Alright, Mia…" she rasped to herself. "Alright… You can… You can do this…"

She turned to look at the dead one last time, her gut churning with betrayal, anger, horror, sadness and all kinds of emotions she couldn't even begin to describe.

"Damn them…"

She turned, collecting the stricken bow and as many arrows as she could find as she went. Rations too were a priority, who knew how long she would be out there. She had to get out of the cold, that was a certainty. She wouldn't last long otherwise, but she couldn't go to the most immediate source of civilisation, the guards would be quick to take her head.

So she started to walk, hoping to come across some town or another she could lay low in. Maybe the people there wouldn't recognise her? It was the only chance she had…

She didn't stop to look, unable to bear such a thing. She pressed on, leaving the remains of the camp and its contained dead for any further wolves desperate for a lifesaving meal, herself now facing the wilds of Skyrim.

Alone.