Everypony had already gone to bed, the frailest of foals shifting under their covers in restless sleep.
Most were completely covered from the cold wind that blew through the small holes in between the wood walls. It was supposed to be our ventilation, or so said Granny Smith.
She was a frail old mare, broken by the rough city gates and darkened by the frozen wind of Skyrim. She was a pale green, with a tightly knitted white bun and some thin sticks for legs.
This was the day. While everypony else slept, I was going to end it.
End it all.
I had managed to pickpocket a small iron knife from a passing nord in the streets on the way home, which I had been secretly sharpening throughout the rest of the day- of which was FILLED with chores.
Granny Smith was a tuff and strict one, and everyday she had us all clean the orphanage until it was spotless. Now, I would actually be okay with that, if she didn't make us keep cleaning after the fifth time of going over and dusting the place til it shined.
The orphanage was called Honorhall, and Granny Smith was often known as 'Granny the kind'.
Kind?
Bah, she wasn't anything of the sort. Her frail posture and kind words around strangers may have given her that title, but she didn't live up to it. We children call her 'Granny the deadra', or demon in other words, when she's out of earshot.
Once though, a child got caught saying that name around her, and he got the worst beating one could imagine.
His name was Aventus, a small black colt with icy blue eyes that were pained and dull from all his suffering.
That's how everypony's eyes were.
Dull and pained.
Any pony who wasn't a Nord got the worst treatment, and the worst eyes.
There were a few Imperials, and one Altmer.
Ironically, I got the worst of it.
Being part cat and all, you aren't necessarily the 'liked' one of the bunch.
I have dark gray fur, ruffled with charcoal colored stripes, unlike the normal sandy tan or tabby orange colors. I wasn't born directly in Elswyer, the home land for Khajiit. It's a harsh desert filled with bandits and monsters of all shapes and sizes.
No, I wasn't born there.
I was born on the border to the Black Marsh, the home of the Argonian race. It's a swampy place, about as dark as the night itself. The only sand there is blackened, and the trees are tall shadowy spruces.
The ponies there, lizard-like creatures with scales and long stiff tails, were also either brown like the mud or black like the sand, with the exception of green or gray.
I was born with the phenotypes of my parents, tan striped fur the color of sand. But as I grew up, I adapted to the environment.
Here's how adaption of Khajiit go-
At about the age of three, whatever color you are, your eyes and ears, they stay the same from then on. So here I was, a black little cat pony with two fierce yellow eyes.
I was told they used to be deep blue, like the oceans you hear about in story tales, but they soon became bright yellow like a hunter's, and small thin black slits.
And now, I sat at the foot of my bed, with a sharpened iron knife at my neck, those same emotionless slits glittering with the pain of a hunted deer.
"It'll all end soon" I whispered reassuringly.
It didn't help any.
Adventus, the colt I'd spoke of earlier, had run away. He had been my only friend at Honorhall.
I mean, considering everypony else teases and bullies me.
Now, with my only friend gone, I was hopeless.
My parents gave me up when I was three, no one wanted a charcoal, thief-perfect cat child, and the guards often pursued me if they saw the slightest change of attire.
There was no hope.
There was no faith.
I pulled the knife closer to my neck, until it brushed against my tattered fur.
I planned on making this long and painful.
I was about to pull the knife through my skin, too.
That is, until something caught my eye, a tiny white light that glinted off of the table beside me.
It was a faint light, shone from the corner of the broken wood, which was parted slightly from termites.
The light was coming from inside the table, it seemed, faintly glowing from what moonlight could reach it through a small broken window in the ceiling.
I put the knife down, temporarily, only to see what had interrupted my supposedly dramatic death.
I put one hoof one the top edge of the table, and another on the bottom, and began pulling, though more lightly to make sure nopony would wake up.
Before I continue, I would like to note that I have a horn; I'm a unicorn Khajiit.
But, I've never been properly taught magic, and the only actual school for unicorns in Skyrim is the College of Winterhold.
I live on the other side of the country.
So, without ever being taught, I've only been able to sneak in the time to learn to cast weak flames and a small healing spell. And that's not much, mind you.
I pulled apart the wood, which parted like wet paper, to find the item that had glinted in the moonlight.
It was just some ordinary silver necklace.
I pulled out the dusty rusted piece of jewelry.
Turning it over, I found the word 'dovakiin' on it, and a tiny iron button on the thin side of the circular item.
I pressed it, and it clicked softly. The front side slowly opened up to reveal a small picture inside.
And a note.
The picture was of two Khajiit ponies, each smiling contently with a small baby in their arms.
What I presumed to be the mother had a long brown mane with blue and teal stripes, and a tan and red dotted face like a doe.
The father was a deep blue, and had white spots on his face and stripes on his neck. He had a gray and blue mane.
The two babies were vastly different.
The one on the left, held by the mother, was brown and black, with dots and jaguar patterns all over it's face- along with a large brown splotch over it's right eye, which was a sea green, much like her Father.
The one on the left was... Tan, with darker stripes all over the body and face, with deep blue eyes out of a fairy tale.
There was one black birth mark on the back, which was a circle, marked by an eye like dot in the middle and two small lines on the sides of the outer ring.
I had the same birth mark...
I quickly closed the necklace, which again echoed a soft click.
Was that me?
Who were the others?
My parents?
My sister?
My family?
I sat back down on my stiff hay bed.
What I had just saw... If that was my family... It seemed impossible.
They all seemed so happy to be together.
I remembered the small square of old parchment within the jewelry.
Sighing, I clicked it open again and dropped the note onto my hoof. I closed the container.
The note wasn't hard to unravel, it seemed to have been preserved by the necklace enough from the cold, damp environment.
Once it was fully open, I began to read the delicately written words on the paper.
'I don't want to leave Elsweyr. It's a wonderful place, harsh sun and all. Our children love the sand, and they've gotten great at hunting here.
But with M'srandere's death, we may have to go.
The trading caravan can't travel at this rate, and we can no longer fund it if we have no income from their sales.
It's a shame, really. We were just now establishing a life for our family, and now our efforts may have just been wasted. Skooma seems like our only choice now if we stay.
Unless I can find a Sleeping tree plant somewhere...
I need to stop thinking like that.
I just hope we can stay. Our family's doing wonderfully at the moment.
Chi'la, our eldest daughter, seems to be a great negotiator and blacksmith. She most definitely carries after her father.
Our youngest daughter is a skilled hunter, and loves her father's hunting bow. She seems to be an aspiring mage, too. She won't ever put down my spell book at dinner.
She's quite sneaky though.
She managed to sneak into my chest and put on my old steel armor and pretend to be protecting a caravan. An old job of mine I had took up before switching to income and funding.
I just hope we can all stay here.
But if we can't, at least stay together... Hopefully.
Journal entry 11, Fredas, Second Seed
I read it at least three times, squinting in the darkness to make sure I had read it correctly.
That foal had my exact birth mark, and if this note was real...
I shook my head.
Surely my parents hadn't wanted me.
Surely I wasn't being lied to!
I took in a deep breath to calm myself. This note held so much unexplainable information.
What if this was another family?
Perhaps it was just another child who had hid this here so that Granny Smith didn't smelt it for spoons?
I glanced back at the knife.
This note changed everything.
I reached for the knife, but stopped short. I couldn't do it.
Not yet.
I was greatly intrigued by the note.
If this was real, I had a sister...
And I knew magic. How could I forget magic?
It would explain my interest in it though.
As the night went on, I sat on the edge of my bed in deep thought, as if at any moment I would flee and escape reality.
It was troubling, the words printed on that parchment.
It kept me awake, kept me thinking.
But I had to know.
I needed to know if it was my family. I needed to know if I still mattered.
"Wake up, you imbecilic brats!" I snapped awake.
I was rolled up in the covers, my mouth hanging just above a small pool of drool. Shaking my head, I quickly got up and grabbed the closest corner of the sheets with my teeth, before pulling them slightly over my dusty pillow.
Granny Smith sent a keen glare over everypony in the room. She slowly walked past the beds, entering the kitchen to eat breakfast. One small brown foal sped after her to whip up something before she got a beating.
I, on the other hoof, simply cleaned and dusted my already spotless part of the room, before slipping the necklace into my small knapsack.
It was had the slightest color of a dull purple in it, and two storage areas. The fabric was slightly torn, but not enough for their to be an actual hole for anything to slip out.
All I carried in my bag was two books and a potion of minor health.
I also carried a few wraps of cast for injuries. I only used it if I wanted to draw something I would have to throw away, like spell mechanisms or notes about certain magic subjects.
Granny Smith was keen in getting us all kicked out of the orphanage that morning. She's keen about everything.
Once we were milling about towards school, she slammed the door shut and left for breakfast.
Her assistant was outside, slowly tilling the dirt to add more seeds in.
I sighed.
It was the tenth of First Seed, the cold weather just barely edging away for the plants to be grown.
Most of the children went on to the shops to buy their lunch for the day.
They earned money through the charity, it was quite a bit they got each week, on Sundas.
But, by the time I would get there, which was never first, it'd all be gone.
I have to live off of the fish in the river- and their foul salty taste never eases my hunger. I kept to the side streets by the Black Briar Meadery, away from all the other foals.
I was the oldest, save for one brown imperial colt, but it never helped me any.
They were tougher, better fed, and strong through their roots.
I was a thin, starving, slender cat possibly abandoned by their parents.
Most of the children here had parents whom died in war, serving either the Imperials or the Stormcloaks. It was a surprise they didn't rant and fight each other over their political roots, but everything was a mystery to me.
I knew little of anything outside of Riften.
I knew little of the whole world.
"That concludes today's research. Remember, we have a test next class, about the Stormcloak's goals and ideals" our teacher, a gruff Nord earth pony muttered to us as we huddled out the door. My furry head poked out above the rest as I pushed myself away from the crowd to a nearby bush.
I quickly stopped and took out the necklace from my knapsack.
It was a bit more polished- I'd had time during our lunch break to scratch a little rust off.
Putting it on, I scooped the knapsack back up. I was near the temple of Mara right now. An overcast was setting in quickly.
I planned on escaping this wretched city, running away.
And I needed to leave now, if I was ever going to.
The foals were milling about around the shops. I watched intensely, making sure no pony was out.
I nodded with content as I finished my count.
Grabbing my knapsack, I hefted myself to my hooves, and crouched just low enough to evade sight. If any pony saw me leave; it was game over.
I mapped out the way around the meadery and past the guards. With precise movement even a thief would admire, I stalked my way quickly through the small snowberry bushes.
They were prickly, that's for sure.
I soon past the first stone fence that sat near the stone border of Riften. An open path led into the cemetery, and barely any tall plants hung in the area- the only lot in Riften with a tended garden.
Bracing my self, I dashed out of the safety of the thick bush.
I could see another bush around the bend of another stone wall, which was connected to the Temple of Mara, right past the iron fence of the cemetery.
A sudden thud behind me interrupted my hurried run.
Glancing back I noticed one of my books, a survival guide. I skidded to a halt.
I needed that book.
With a suspicious glance and a twist of my ears towards the open entrance to the cemetery, I backed up and ducked my head to swipe the book up.
From the edge of my vision I saw a shadow emerging from the opening to the graveyard.
My mouth grasped loosely around one corner of the blue worn book before I twisted around and ran with hard hoofsteps towards the wall.
The shadow was a guard, I saw just before disappearing into the bush. They couldn't see me past the wall, unless they wanted to climb the sharp coal fence, but I felt safer if I could shrink back and cover my form.
I heard the guard come close and mutter something about his brother out fighting dragons before leaving.
Dragons?
Beasts of legend?
I shook my head before leaving the bush to look around. No guards were currently stationed on the rest of the way to the Riften gates, though I could only see up until the last bend to the large wooden doors.
As a sharp fresh cold breeze hit mu face, I for once I took in a full view of the surroundings that were something besides ponies and 'safe zones'.
The Wall I stood beside stretched up quite far, ending only as a red hay roof stuck out some to seal the temple shut.
The bricks were placed seemingly randomly, with barely a pattern visible.
The Black Briar Meadery, which sat just past another dirt trail leading to the market was a large fenced in lot, guarded by intimidating stone walls created with great craft and ash stained iron fences with sharp spears at the tips.
It looked like a kingdom in it's own, fit for the best of thieves and richies.
And it was.
The Black Briar family line had owned the mead brand 'Black Briar', one of the most popular beverages of taverns ever- the brand was sold all over Skyrim, from what I'd heard.
They were rich hard people, not entirely strict in a sense but definitely rude.
I shuddered. The one time I'd talked to any of them, they spat at my face and I had to evade a low drunk punch.
Never said a word to them again.
There was a tall porch that wrapped around the second floor of the building, and a large vacant space in the backyard.
Wild plants grew in great amounts, untended by the Black Briar's.
A guard began walking up the trail beside the Briar's home.
He was already about half way through, and I stifled a gasp as I fell back into the thick bush behind me. The guard came around the corner of the wall that hid the bush.
I was as still as possible, my position rather uncomfortable- I had my back hind leg stuck over my front one.
The guard stopped in front of my bush. I couldn't tell what he looked like, his whole body had some leather clad covering it, but I could tell he was a Pegasus. Though even the wings were fully covered in the same leather material.
He sniffed, and covered his mouth just before a fit of coughs took over.
I flinched- he only stopped when he began choking.
He shook his head to shake away the fit. Then, after looking around, he continued on his duties.
Even though it was the beginning of First Seed, the cold was still getting to ponies.
During this month, the range of sickness was fading, but those unlucky enough to catch seemed to have the hardest time.
Wether it was the temperature or some other reason, I shook away the thought.
The guard had left. I poked my head out of the bush to look for any other ponies.
Once I saw no one, I crept out of the bush, forcing my front leg back and over my hind leg to free them while doing so. I glanced around the wall.
The coast was clear.
I made my last dash across the trail. It was longer, but it was more doubtful any pony else would come up the trail. I hid behind the wooden cart for a second before rushing over to a thin set of mountain flower plants. These were overgrown and large, but thin and prickly.
I kept fidgeting in the itchy grass.
'Not a good hiding spot' I noted.
I looked around for a split second before leaving the plants and trotting over to the last wall before the gates.
The guard was standing there, though he seemed to be engaged in a conversation with another guard I couldn't see. Lots of tall plants lined the five feet to an iron gate in front of me, so if need be I could dive for salvation.
I mentioned it already, but if the guards caught me, I was Horker meat.
They knew the foals were supposed to be confined to the middle of Riften after school, a precaution set in by Granny Smith and the Jarl in an attempt to decrease the amount of bandits and, in most cases.... Murders.
The thieves guild, I'd heard, had been pinpointing outer races, like Orcs and me, but I hadn't believed it. I mean, whoever this thieves guild was, I doubted they murder the children that would grow up to probably be like them, with them.
I sneaked up to the gate, it's simple yet elaborate design casting an exotic shadow across my face. Biting the handle, I opened it slowly, trying to make sure it didn't creak.
A low screeching sound emitted from it, in which I pulled slower.
It only carried on longer.
With a sigh, I yanked the door back so it didn't have time to make such a distracting noise.
The guard's hadn't noticed me. As I hid behind a small edge in the iron wall border of Riften, a sudden thought yanked my head into panic.
How was I going to get PAST the guards!?
I had to stop myself from beating my head on the wall. I was stupid!
Why didn't I think about that!
The guard nearest to me shifting uncomfortably in the cold wind. I stop dead in my face-hoof, watching intently. If they turned around, I could bury myself in a heap of Mountain Flowers and Night Shades next to me, but I wanted to be sure they weren't about to look.
The guard stretched before turning to the one on the other side of him, who was leaning against an iron wall-like pillar, about as bored as the bland atmosphere of a kid's book.
He lifted his chin as the other guard spoke, "It's the end of my shift. Mira's supposed to cover for me, but I need some dumb sense put into that no-good Reeka for trickin' me off like some Beggar o' his".
"I take you're asking me to come help?" the guard asked lazily.
"Yeah. You and I both know no pony 'an beat him in a fair brawl".
"... Fine. Let me end Shak'ra's shift. She's right outside the gate. Told 'er I'd get if I left". The guard got up and unlocked the gate. He poked his head out, mumbled something, before another guard, a Unicorn, came trotting inside.
"It's freezing outside" she complained, her Nordic (Sounds Russian) accent frozen and bitter.
"Let's go then" the first one muttered.
I watched them disappear behind the door to the bee and barb before looking back at the Large spruce gate doors.
They were solid hard, uneasily penetrated by any hard surface, and refined after the last war with the Altmer.
I could hear the faint whistle of the trees beyond the door.
In truth, I'd never been anywhere outside of Riften. Once, on a field trip with mr. Randal, our Nord teacher, I got to see the stables, but a Khajiit caravan had begun to pull up, and he'd pressured us inside as quickly as possible.
That was the first time I'd seen a lot of my kind; even that amount was quite a lot compared to the weak amount of Khajiit's throughout Skyrim.
Now, as I pushed the door open, I saw the same beautiful scenery as that one day.
Trees more abundant than imaginable made up a surrounding forest, a large wooden structure with open spots in it played as a stable.
I heard about two legged monsters that put horses in stables for their homes before. Bleh, that was a nightmare!
We, on the other hoof, herd goats.
They're the only equine that hasn't evolved to our level, or well, anything above a Wild Cat. There are different breeds of them too, some more sturdy, or fast, or can hold more.