Kay(jiit) Sarah Sara: Part 11 – Still Heading North
Author’s note: Turd ass. Hehehe.
- Atsie Newt
Turdas, 21st of Last Seed
This one is a little drunk.
Waking to find the sky already turning pink with the rising sun, this one descended to the river. It would be irresponsible of Khajiit to allow a dangerous animal to roam the river bank, terrorising travellers. Also, Kay wanted its fur and tusks for trade.
Creeping towards the shack, this one summoned a flickering flame as the beast emerged from the shack, a low, menacing growl reverberating from its throat. So much for the element of surprise. Kay skipped backwards, hurling fire at the advancing beast, but the cat was not so easily deterred. Lunging through the flames, the beast swiped at Khajiit with its fearsome claws.
Blood gushed from this one’s arm as claws met flesh. Crying out, Kay staggered back, blasting fire in the beast’s face to force it back. No such luck. Another swipe caught Khajiit across the shoulder, knocking her sideways into the river.
Frantically, this one cast a spell to knit the wounds closed as she struggled to find her footing in the rushing water. Knowing that another blow would probably finish her, Kay waded out into the deeper water, desperate to put some space between Khajiit and the cat. With pounding heart and aching lungs, it took this one a moment to realise the beast had abandoned the chase.
Snarling at the edge of the river, reluctant to go into the deeper water where Khajiit stood, the beast eyed Kay with an intensity that shook this one to the core. Gingerly, Kay moved closer, rising out of the river until her arms cleared the water. Still, the beast lingered at the edge.
The corners of Kay’s mouth turned up, her nose wrinkling into a snarl of her own. From the safety of the river, this one blasted the beast, striking it down with flaming vengeance.
Exhausted by the fight, Kay took her time stripping the carcass before continuing her journey north. Weighed down with furs, the sight of Windhelm as she crested the hill brought a tear of joy to this one’s eye. Between the animal skins and potion ingredients, Khajiit should surely earn enough coin to open a trading post. She just needed to find the best location.
Entering the city, Kay was immediately met with a sight that put her on edge. In broad daylight, a pair of Nords were openly harassing a Dunmer woman, accusing her of being an Imperial spy. If that’s the type of welcome to be expected in Ulfric Stormcloak’s home city, maybe keeping out of the war was for the best.
Deciding it was best not to linger, this one headed to the inn for lunch and a chance to dry out in front of a warm fire. Between the freezing river, the icy wind, and the gathering snow, Kay was suffering the effects of the Skyrim weather. The opportunity to sit inside and rest was too good to pass up. Even so, it was best not to dwell too long given the hostility to outsiders seen on arrival.
Seeking out the local alchemist, Khajiit walked in on a heated argument about some ancient trinket called a white phial. If the description given was accurate, it sounded like a valuable piece of equipment for a budding alchemist such as this one. Agreeing to retrieve the phial in exchange for details of its location, this one had a new mission. Fortunately, the location of the phial was barely a detour from the road to Winterhold.
With coin in pocket, and a fresh set of clothes from the Windhelm market, Kay set out once more, barely leaving the shadow of the city before encountering a group of revellers deep in their cups. Khajiit’s hopes of passing unnoticed were dashed when one of the drunkards looked up and cried out.
‘Share a bottle of Honningbrew Mead with me!’
Khajiit smiled politely. ‘If a single bottle of mead can make a man so jolly, this Honningbrew Mead must be very good, yes?’
‘Finest mead outside Sovngarde,’ the man replied, swaying as he spoke.
Weighing her options, Khajiit decided that humouring the drunkards was likely to be the quickest way to be rid of them and on her way.
Taking a sip from the proffered bottle, Kay was inclined to agree that the sweet nectar did indeed have enough kick to put a frost troll on his hind quarters. Drinking deeper, this one savoured the citrus notes beneath the rich, maltiness as it slithered down her throat. It was indeed, a delicious mead.
This one is unsure what happened next. There was more drinking, and some more drinking. After that, there was some drinking and singing. That would explain the rough texture of Khajiit’s mouth when this one came around, flat on her back, on the bridge over the river.
This one is never singing again.
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