Chapter One: An Unexpected Guest

The gentle rain pattered against the wooden roof, making Anjaarra tired and lazy. She hated when it rained all day, let alone all week. A sigh escaped through her feline lips, matching the heaviness of the air in the small cabin. It was Fredas but it had been raining since last Morndas and Anjaarra was tired of it. Her bones ached to be outside and her tail was constantly twitching and being stepped on by her restless feet.

Another sigh passed through her lips as she lounged over her small sofa, staring out into the seemingly never ending rain. Her crops, which were mostly leeks and potatoes, seemed to enjoy the rain but it looked like half of them had swum away. She growled quietly in disgust. It had been a hard year as it was and she needed all the septims that she could get. With her husband passing and dragons still flying about, she was half-tempted to pack up what little things she had and move out of Skyrim and go back to her home land of Elsweyr.

"But the dragons would surely follow…" She said quietly to herself, her mottled brown and rust red tail flicking lazily in the air. It had almost been a year since the first dragon attack on Helgen and Anjaarra was sure that the scaly beasts had covered most of Tamriel by now. A fly buzzed too loudly in the quiet house, her bright orange eyes flicking around to spot the pest but couldn't catch sight of it. With a graceful swing of her legs, Anjaarra stood and stretched, a quiet yawn escaping through her canine teeth. Her tongue curled slightly at the yawn but she didn't mind. It wasn't like anyone was around to ridicule her.

With a bounce in her step, the beautiful Khajiit walked over to her little square dining table. Two wooden chairs sat beside it but no one had sat in the other chair for almost a year. She paused by her chair, a fond memory of her husband playing across her eyes before a flash of lightning in the window brought her out of her reverie. Without even trying, Anjaarra sat down gracefully in the chair, picking at a wedge of cheese that she had left there earlier. These days, she barely ate or slept. The worry that she might not be able to stock up enough food and coin for the winter made her cut back on her eating. She tried to ignore the constant grumbling in her stomach as she placed the small bits of cheese into her hungry mouth.

And then it came. She didn't hear it at first because it blended in with the constant tap, tap, tapping of the rain on the roof and the rumbles of thunder. But then it came again, louder this time and more distinct. Anjaarra perked up her ears and looked at the door. Was that a knock on the door? The last time she heard a knock on her door was when…

"H-help…" She heard from the other side of her door. That made her quickly jump to her feet and run to the door. At first all she was rain when she opened the door. But then she saw the broken shape of the man in her doorway, a strong smell of blood and fear blanketed him heavily as if it was coming down with the rain. Anjaarra gasped and covered her mouth. "By the gods…" She muttered before quickly helping the man inside.

The man seemed to by half awake as she half-dragged, half-carried the man to the dining table, pushing the empty cup and plate onto the floor. She carefully helped him lay onto his back, noticing all the sword slashes in his clothing. Blood seeped through the slashes and pooled onto her table. She bit her lip and her tail flicked quickly with excitement. Her mind was racing with how to help the man.

"B-bandages…" He stammered his voice weak and far away as if it took all the energy in his body to say that one word. With a quick nod and her panicking mind finding the right track, Anjaarra quickly ran to a cupboard and pulled out a fresh roll of linen wraps. She always made sure she had some ready after her husband had accidentally cut himself with a wood axe. Racing back with the linens, Anjaarra put them aside and extended her claws. The weak, limp man flinched at the sound but he didn't protest as the cat-woman cut open his ragged tunic. It was worse than she thought. Not only were there slash marks from swords, but he also seemed to have been struck by a fireball spell. She could smell the stink of magicka from the wound, her nose wrinkling at the horrid mix of it and burnt flesh.

"Dip bandages in h-hot water…" The man said weakly, the words fainter than before. Anjaarra knew the man had very little time left and wanted to address his wounds right away but realized that the wraps probably weren't the cleanest. With the speed and agility that her people were known for, she quickly grabbed a pot and poured water into it before placing it over the hearth. With a few more logs added to the once smoldering pile of coals, Anjaarra let nature boil the water as she went back to the man.

He was limp against the table and Anjaarra's heart skipped a beat for a second before she heard his ragged breathing again and the slight rise and fall of his chest. He didn't have much time left and she put her paws against her head. She didn't want another man to die on her hands, even though she didn't even know this stranger. And then it clicked. Quickly walking over and standing besides the man, Anjaarra hovered her furry hands over his chest, closed her hands and prayed quietly to Mother Mara, asking for her praise the man with her compassion and benevolence so that she could probably treat the wounded man. Nothing happened at first but then a weak ray of light shone down between the Khajiit woman's hands and it caressed the pale skin of the man. His broken body twitched for a moment as the light slowly engulfed him, but then he lay still. Anjaarra kept her hands held out and watched as the wounds slowly closed up and the burn slowly healed.

Once all the wounds seemed to be healed, she dropped her hands, her body quivering slightly at the slight excursion of the healing. A soft groan of pain- and was there relief, as well? - wafted through the man's pale pink lips before he slowly passed out. Anjaarra softly touched his face, seeing for the first time his lean, chiseled features. He had dark sandy brown hair, matching that of the frozen dirt on the northern coasts of Skyrim. It was tangled and matted with dirt and grime. His face was just as grimy but she could still make out the pale skin, the rounded chin and wide nose. The eyes were somewhat sunken into his skull and the cheekbones were high and wide. But there was no doubting that her mysterious visitor was a Nord.

"And a Talos worshipper…" Anjaarra thought as she picked up the amulet that hung around the Nord's thick neck. The double-bladed axe blade with a dagger affixed onto the top was the man-god's symbol and she quickly dropped it, shuddering when she figured who had done this to the pale man on her table: the Thalmor.

Author's Note: Thank you everyone for reading. This is my first story and I hope that you all enjoy reading the next chapters that continue on this story. Please review my story so that I can make it better for you guys to read. Please be professional and clean in your reviews. I will try to post a new chapter everyday or every other day so you won't have to wait long for an update. Please enjoy my story. Thanks!