Chapter Text
The creaking of a ship headed for the Imperial City, the waves hitting its side with no mercy, the torchlight casting a man's shadow on the wooden walls—Keshanir hated every second of it. They held one hand over their twin sister's mouth and the other wrapped tightly around her arm. The man chuckled to himself when he lifted a small object out of the crate, but Keshanir couldn't figure out what it was from shadow alone. He left the room, and Keshanir dropped their hands. Their sister, Zahya, exhaled deeply.
"This one will get us some food," Keshanir whispered, and they scrambled out of their hiding spot behind some other crates in the back of the room.
"Right now? He just left, Keshanir!" She grabbed their arm. "Please, wait! If we get separated, how will anyone back home find us?"
"You said that about leaving Elsweyr too. They'll wait for us."
"And if they don't? What then?" she asked, though she let go of their arm.
"They can't search of Tamriel, Zahya; they know that. This one will be back. Just stay here."
Keshanir snuck out into the dimly lit hallway. They peered into each room every time they passed an open door until they quickly came upon an open area full of tables and chairs. The dining room had clearly just been left, because plates were left stacked at the end of the table, and most chairs had been pushed away from their tables without being pushed back in. Other hallways led to more storage, and some stairs to Keshanir's left, leading up to the balcony above these tables, and bedrooms surrounding that.
This time, they wouldn't risk anything to explore more. Keshanir looked around. They spotted no one, just like the previous weeks, and they dashed out into the open. The kitchen would just be on the other side of the dining room. As soon as they reached the tables, they ducked down and crawled. Despite the table and chair legs in the way, the archway to the kitchen remained in sight. They sped up, their concentrated frown turning into a smile.
Someone yanked them up into the air. They let out a high-pitched noise, barely holding back a scream. They wouldn't—no, couldn't—let Zahya run out to rescue them. They threw around their limbs blindly. Even when they made contact, the person behind them kept a tight grasp around their midsection. The adult carried them out of the dining area, up the stairs, and out onto the overwhelmingly bright deck. Keshanir closed their eyes tightly, even as another door opened.
The person threw them down, and they finally opened their eyes. A Thalmor officer—long, blond hair swept backwards perfectly—sat at a large desk, made of the same wood as the bookshelf and display case behind him. He wore the grouchy expression Keshanir saw only on old and successful businessmen who had tired of the meetings they had to put up with. Some books, all open, sat around some paper on his desk.
"See, I told you I wasn't going crazy," said the man who had grabbed Keshanir while he placed a box on the desk. Both the captain and the fourteen-year-old Khajiit looked up at him. He wore a more casual outfit than the captain—if the pristinely-kept sailor's clothes could be could such—with facial features as sharp as the next words he spoke. "I say we throw the little thief overboard and see if they can swim."
"Give them a break; the kid was starving." The sailor went to protest, but the captain held up a finger. His raspy voice remained level. "When we get close enough to land, we'll let the kid off. You started hearing them after we left Elsweyr, right?" He turned to Keshanir. "I've gotta congratulate you, kid. You've made it very far."
Keshanir's fear must've shown through, because both men chuckled at them. They looked down at their hands, messing with their dirty, loose sleeves, and they nodded. The captain rested his forearms on the chair arm.
"I'm not walking that kid to the nearest town, Captain. We're already behind schedule as is."
"Eh, we haven't gotten too far into Cyrodiil. I'm sure they'll make their way back home eventually, no help needed. Right, kid?" Keshanir's head snapped up. The captain smiled slightly. "You're on your own, then."
"Not unless you want the guards hearing about your secrets."
The captain snorted, yet he leaned forward. "What secrets?"
"Let me off at the next port, and no one will have to find out."
Keshanir, a Cathay with fur like a cougar, wandered through the forests of the Eastern Niben Valley. Weeks had passed since they last saw their sister, yet they almost only thought of her now that she had to know they weren't coming back. Was she hungry? Scared? Caught and disposed of? Keshanir's stomach churned, taking away their hunger for just a moment.
The only times they could get their mind off of their sister's troubles happened when they searched for edible plants among the countless species they couldn't recognize, or when they lost sleep during the night over strange animals calls, some of which sounded too close, or when a branch snapped not from Keshanir's own feet but another's. Keshanir ears stood at full attention, and their heart raced. They looked around and saw nothing. Another branch cracked.
Keshanir bounded through the trees. The source of the noise followed like a hunter. Keshanir turned at random. The hunter didn't lose them. Something whizzed right by them. Keshanir glanced over without stopping. A white arrow stuck out of a tree. Their heart somehow quickened its pace just like they did.
Another arrow landed in Keshanir's lower leg. They screamed as they went down. They looked back. The arrow was made out of bone. Past it, an auburn-haired Bosmer in well-worn fur armor approached. He couldn't have been much older than Keshanir, maybe by only two or three years, but Keshanir still sat up and scooched back. Pain coursed through their leg when the arrow caught a little friction.
The boy with a steel sword on his hip put his bow in his sling. He raised his hands as if that would calm them now. Keshanir stopped. The boy approached slowly, his smile growing with each step. When he loomed over them, grinning like a madman, Keshanir slid back just a little more. He grabbed the sides of Keshanir's shoulders and pulled them up onto their feet.
He asked, "Do you want some food?"
"Huh?"
"You look hungry. I can get you some food." He wrapped an arm under Keshanir's shoulder, but they tried to wriggle away. "Hey, it's okay."
"No, it's not! You just hunted me, and now you're going to kill me!"
"So, we still got a little fight in us! Listen, we're close to Leyawiin, like a day or two away. I can even show you on my map where we are. Here, let me get it out of my sling. And a potion. I'm sure I've got one on me. Don't run off, okay?" He giggled. "It won't work anyways."
He let go of the Khajiit. While he rustled through a sling pocket, Keshanir debated on how they wanted to die. If they ran, they could hide from the strange Bosmer. If they stayed, they'd just escape once they got the meal. Or maybe a few. Their stomach begged for a few. Still, the longer they stayed, the more difficult it'd be to leave.
"Here you go!" He handed over a potion. "And I'll get this arrow out of your leg on three, okay? One, two…"
He pulled, and Keshanir yowled. "You said on three!"
"You were getting too tense! You needed to be a little more unprepared! Now, take the potion." He handed it over before Keshanir could say another word, and they hesitated, but the pain pulsed in beat with their heart. They took a swig and winced again. A stinging sensation nearly distracted them from the medicinal taste of the potion. The Bosmer, ignorant of the pain laid a map on the ground in between them. He pointed to the land west of the Niben River, not far north of a dot labeled as Leyawiin. "See here? This is where we are. Leyawiin's within traveling distance. You're not coming from there, right? I'd hate to pull you away from Bravil if that's where you were headed, though you look in pretty rough shape now. I'd turn around if I were you."
The Bosmer rolled up his map before he walked off. They watched him go, the debate still raging in their mind. He saw no one at his side, and he slowed. While Keshanir scrambled up, he rested a hand on his sword like it was another part of his hip. Keshanir caught up, the pain fading, and he resumed his walk, puffing out his chest as if he owned the world. Keshanir giggled. He frowned and cast a glance over at the child. Their eyes widened, and they looked away, tensing their shoulders.
"The name's Faroren," he said. Keshanir glanced at him out of the corner of their eye. Same walk, just with a proud smile. "What about you, kid?"
Keshanir recognized his demeanor, inexperienced or not, in the brigands back home. Plain as day, they answered, "Vaska."
"Best to throw out a fake name like it's your own, buddy. Now, who are you really?"
"It is my real name! Do you have any food on you right now?" Their vision darkened around the edges, and they stumbled, their feet feeling heavier suddenly. They still continued in speech and slower walk. "I'm starving! And did it get really warm to you all of a sudden?"
"Oh, shit!" Faroren exclaimed. He sounded as if he were far away. Keshanir still tried to reach out for him anyway. "That was the defective—"
Keshanir collapsed.