A family. Thats all I had ever wanted. People who would take care of and love me for who I was. People who would get me things, like taffy, and clothes, and let me go to a school to learn and earn an education. A mom who made delicious homemade sweet rolls, and a dad who tossed a ball during free time. Maybe even have a little sister or little brother to share my things with. Yes, I had always dreamed of having that.

But no. I'm an orphan, 16 years of age. I have short dirty blonde hair, and am extremely scrawny. I'm nothing short of ugly either.

I travel with the Khajiit caravans, selling and buying goods from whatever travelers we encounter. Sometimes, we stay outside of a city and sell there. My masters, Sk'avani, and Sh'adani, keep their prices low and fair, making plenty of gold septums. You'd think that they would share some with me, considering that I run all over Skyrim, delivering messages to the kingdoms and reaches. But I make a mere 10 gold every seven days. It's enough to buy a meal and, occasionally, a blanket to keep me warm.

"Micah, get yourself on your feet and deliver this to the Jarl of Whiterun, and be quick about it. If you're not back in a fier, (which, is an hour in our language) we will leave you." Sk'avani said. I silently got up from the plush rug I had been sitting on, and took the extended parchment from the cats hand.

"If anything happens to that note, it will be your head on a spike. You hear?"

I nodded silently, and packed what things I had. I believed them about leaving me. I wasn't born into their family, Gods no. I'm a human, while they are the feline race of Elsweyr. They only took me in because they found me on the side of the road, a few kilometers, from the Rift in a small basket with a note. What was on the note, only Akatosh knows, but it made them take me in?

We were camped right on the outskirts of Whiterun, so it wasn't much of a trip. The only thing I found remotely unnecessary was the long winding path that led to the gates. Then again, extra security right? Whiterun was a very busy trading city, and also the home of the legendary dragon facade, Dragonsreach. I had always heard of the legend of Olaf'One eye and how he captured his nemesis, Numinex, in the halls of Dragonsreach, but if it was reality, only the Gods knew.

The guards eyed me suspiciously as I made my way up to the gates. It wasn't easy being in the caravans. We are never allowed inside of the Reaches to sell our goods and wares, only on the outskirts. Have I ever thought about running away? Oh yes. Every night actually, but then, I had actually tried before. I was found in the mountains near Markarth by Sk'avani, and was beaten until I could hardly stand anymore. No, I won't be trying that again any time soon.

The huge oak gates that led into Whiterun were wide open, with travelers passing through pulling carts laden with cabbages, sacks of potatoes, or anything else they might have needed. Donkeys and horses burdened with large sacks of food or cloths entered and exited the busy trading hub. As much as I wanted to meet the eye of every passerby, I didn't. I kept my head down, and trudged up the cobblestone path.

Suddenly, shouts of surprise and aggravation reached my ears, and I looked up to see a group of Whiterun guards led by the Jarls' Housecarl, Irileth, running quickly out of the city. The Dark Elf woman yelled commands, and ordered people out of the way. I just barely made it to the side throng of people before I was trampled. It wasn't too odd, seeing the guards, but what did catch my eyes, was the figure following close behind them.

She was extremely tall, though not tall enough to bang her head on the wall above the gate, but being as short as I was, it could have been a possibility in my imagination. I could tell she was a woman due to her large bust, and her slender figure. I was even more surprised to see a long, black, leopard printed tail swaying in balance behind her. This was a Khajiit, but, not one of them from the trading caravans.

No, this khajiit woman was a warrior. She wore a set of dark, glittering ebony mail with matching boots and gauntlets. She seemed to have a rather aggressive aura surrounding her, though, none other than myself seemed to notice. She had a huge battle axe strapped across her back, and as I looked closer, I could see details of the axe pointing it out to be the legendary Wuuthrad; The axe wielded by Ysgramar, the first Nord to settle in the Skyrim realm of Tamriel. Her head was covered by a strange, dark metaled mask, a brown hood hiding any other features. (Little did I know at the time, that this was a mask from the long-dead Dragon priest, Nakriin.)

She was running, no, gliding across the cobblestone path, easily passing up the group of guards. Her steps were so quiet, they sounded like whispers. Either her boots were enchanted, or her skill in sneaking and stealth surpassed the line of normal. She seemed completely oblivious to the people around her, and yet managed to weave her way through the crowd without disturbing a single basket. I watched her for a moment more, frozen in awe, but she soon disappeared around the wall.

I shook myself out of my stupor, and watched as the people did the same. No, it wasn't odd to see the guards or the Housecarl in the streets, but the grace and aura around the Khajiit would give drunken men a story to tell in the inns tonight.

I dismissed the strange khajiit completely, realizing I was wasting my borrowed time, and quickly jogged into the city. It was truly a beautiful place, with elaborately decorated homes, neat cobblestone paths, and running water systems that zig-zagged through the streets, alleys, and along the sides of the walls. Adrianne Avenicci, the city's blacksmith, hammered relentlessly on a glowing rod of steel. Her arms were quite thick for a woman, but that wasn't surprising considering she was one of the greatest blacksmiths known in Skyrim.

Children ran up and down the streets, playing tag, or hide and seek. An occasional beggar or drunk held out a hand for a septum or two, occasionally sneaking and pickpocketing an unknowing bystander. Of course, I say nothing, for it's not any of my business. I found myself in the main market square, where everything from weapons, silks, and food, to home decorations, books, or potions were being traded or bought. Mouthwatering aromas reached my nose as I passed a small meat stall. A rather large man with a full, dark brown beard, and wearing a stained white apron was yelling boisterously.

"Fresh meat and venison! Get your fresh meat here! Only the best meats and poultry for sale or trade!"

I was pulled over to the stall by an unseen force, which was probably my rumbling stomach. The meats gleamed with a very finely-ground powder. I realized it was the teeth of an Ice-Wraith. Very smart, for the enchanted creature's teeth were solid ice, and grounding them into a powder, and placing it over a meat or food of any other, would keep the food cold, and fresh for a good week.

"Hello young girl, is there something I can help you with?" The man asked. Though he wasn't yelling, his voice was still full, and rather loud.

"No sir, Im just looking. It's been a while since I've had a good meal."

"Well then," He sighed, "It's a shame to see such a pretty face so hungry. Here, have this. Just don't tell a soul." He said, his eyes twinkling with merriment. He handed me a cloth-wrapped parcel with a wink. I took it, slipping the Jarls letter under my arm, and un-wrapped the greasy bundle. Inside was a perfectly cooked hunk of elk. It steamed as it touched the cool air, and its vapor of cooked sage and rosemary filled my nose.

"T-thank you so much sir. I-I dont have any gold on my person."

To my surprise, he merely shook his head. "Don't worry about it little one. It'll be on my part."

I smiled. "Thank you." He nodded his head and smiled, returning to his loud advertising.

As I climbed the stone stairs leading to Dragonsreach, I eagerly tore into the meat. Its juices dripped down my chin, and I used my free hand to wipe the oily liquid off. As I climbed the last step, I admired the huge tree that stood in the middle of a plaza. If I recalled correctly, the tree was called a Gildergreen, born from the branches of an Eldergleam tree, blessed by the goddess of wind, Kynareth. The tree was surrounded by benches, and I could see beautiful, flowered vines growing across tall arches that had paths leading into the home sections of the city.

The only thing odd I saw about this tree, was that its branches were dead, and barren, no sign of the pink and purple buds that usually overwhelmed the branches, filling the air with Kynareth's sweet fragrances. I would have loved to sit and ponder over the trees' strange appearance, but my time was being wasted, so I had to hurry.

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Hello everyone, that was Entry One. Let me know what you think about it, and leave a vote if you liked it! <3

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