PLEASE NOTE: This story contains settings, races and other scenery elements created by BETHESDA and the brilliant artist and writers in their employ. They retain all rights to the ELDER SCROLLS universe they created, I am but a humble story weaver.
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Chapter 8
Athra stumbled over a root yet again in the moons lights barely filtering through the foliage of the canopy of the trees, sighing heavily. The pace Zan had set to travel was exhausting, and as they had neared Cyrodiil, he had started traveling off the road a ways to avoid unwanted attention from Ebonhart soldiers. Every day they set out before dawn, quickly breaking camp and eating small handfuls of dried nuts fruits or meats, washing it down with a few drinks from a water skin as they traveled. Even breaks to relieve herself had been seldom and brief, done as he had continued to move steadily through the brush and undergrowth. As the moons had peaked above them, she had simply stopped, sitting down on a root beneath a tree and leaned against it closing her eyes, wondering why she was even following this crazy Khajiit.
Zan heard her footfalls behind him stop, his sharp ears turning back as he slowed his pace slightly, stopping entirely when he did not hear the sound of her relieving herself or her footfalls continuing. He waited a few more moments, looking up at the night sky to measure the time, and hearing nothing but silence and night birds giving eerie calls in the treetops. He retraced his steps back the way he had come, and to the place he thought he last heard her lumbering through the undergrowth with the grace and silence of a mammoth, finding her sitting at the base of a tree. She turned to look up at him with a slight expression of surprise, dropping her gaze back to the ground, saying coldly, "This one is surprised Zan stops. Go if you will. Athra will take no more steps this night."
Zan looked down at her and sighed heavily, sitting on a nearby rock, and pulling his pack off his shoulder, looking over at her with a mildly apologetic look, "Zan forgets that you are unused to traveling in such a way. Many times while hunting his prey, Zan will travel through the night to lessen distance, especially if the one hunted has many days head start."
Athra looked up at him with her odd blue eyes, shaking her head slightly, muttering, "This pace is insanity, and we have been walking constant and sleeping little for days. Athra is exhausted, Zan would walk this one to her end to be shed of the little ghost at his heels." Zan chuckled softly, building a small fire where they sat, then said sarcastically in his low voice, "This one would not be shed of his little white shadow quite yet, he would miss the venom in her tongue." He sat back extracting some pouches of trail rations and a loaf of bread he had wrapped in a cloth from his pack, sharing some of it with her. She had scowled at his comment, refusing his offering at first, but relented when her stomach growled noisily.
They ate quietly for several moments, both staring at the small dancing flames of the tiny fire as Zan fed small sticks slowly into it. Athra finally broke the silence, moving to sit closer to him. She stared up at him for a moment, then asked softly, "Has Zan given thought to what he will do when he finds Liliah? Or possibility that she will not wish to leave the new life as she once wished to leave the old one?" Zan looked down, looking into her pale blue eyes with his yellow ones, finding a gentle look in them. He shook his head slightly, insisting, "If she wishes to pursue new life, Zan will follow if he must and attempt to find place within it." Athra sighed softly, "Such persistence. Such woman as would inspire such seems likely to draw other competition to her heels, perhaps her new master included? In Athra's experience, males who keep pretty young female servants have other desires they would have met, " she shot Zan a crooked smile, a look suggesting he may do the same with her, but wilted slightly as she saw him scowl, hastily adding, "but perhaps there is no such risk, not all mer are of similar nature. This one has heard other races are forbidden to Altmer, to keep keep blood pure." She shrugged, falling silent in her attempts to engage him in conversation, and in trying to be seen through the obvious case of love blindness the poor fool was sick with. She would wait, and she would stay on his heels.
She found herself hoping they actually did close in on this impossible goddess Zan was so smitten with, preferably before they reached Rawl'kha and his first opportunity to ditch her without guilt for doing so. She had a feeling the little mer was going to rip his heart from his chest before breaking it, and Athra would have the pleasure of slicing the bitch to ribbons before scooping up the titan of a Khajiit she had discarded. She knew he didn't see her yet, and wouldn't be able to do so until after his obsession with the Bosmer had run its course. She shivered slightly in the chill of the night air and Zan surprised her by reaching into his bag and placing a cloak around her shoulders, explaining, "Zan intended to give it to Athra sooner, but had forgotten. To both keep her warm, and also to hide her white fur from drawing eyes of soldiers. This close to Cyrodiil, two Khajiit could easily be mistaken as Dominion and find great trouble indeed." Athra nodded in understanding, drawing up the hood and giving him a grateful smile.
"This one grateful, thank you," she met his eyes for a moment then reached down, rubbing her foot absently. Zan felt him conscience bite him when he saw the blood staining the white fur around the pads of her feet and toes, frowning and reaching into his pack. He found the strips of cotton he sought, pulling out also a jar of salve he used for first aid, reaching down and grabbing her ankle lightly and pulling it into his lap. Boots had protected his feet on the rough terrain, but hers had numerous scrapes and cuts from sharp rocks and sticks they had found. Zan gave her a dismayed look after he saw the damage, chiding "Athra should have drawn attention. Damaged paws in travels can be dangerous if infection sets in." He pulled out the water skin pouring a bit of it over the pink pad of her foot to clean it, cleaning most of the blood from the fur, then carefully applying a thin layer of the salve to the cuts and scrapes, wrapping her foot carefully before moving to the other, repeating the process.
Athra dropped her head shrugging, saying softly, "The pain is tolerable, Athra did not wish to cause further nuisance with complaint," she glanced up at him sheepishly, dropping her gaze again as she added, "Athra was born property of wealthy family, was not permitted to leave carpeted interior till sold to the bath house. Soft paws will toughen if freedom and life continue long enough to see it so."
Zan sighed, looking down at her and shaking his head saying softly, "Athra is not a nuisance, Zan is simply blind and foolish and too used to keeping his own company, and having none to look after. Zan has been distant from anger, but is not angry at Athra, Khajiit is angry with self in knowledge of tears spilled in his absence by the last he made promises to. He punishes himself in anger, and forgets the innocent one he sentences to the same course and pace," he gave her a soft look, then reached into his pack again pulling out some strips of buckskin and began carefully wrapping bits around the bandages, fashioning a crude pair of makeshift sandals to place a layer of leather between the bandages and the ground.
He held her foot for a moment, wishing he could undo the careless injury he had caused, deciding he could at least make sure it didn't happen again. "Zan will make this right, we stop tomorrow, at the town ahead. Khajiit will see Athra properly clothed and with boots on soft paws in return for a promise from her." He looked at her expectantly, as she looked up at him with an almost fearful expression of apprehension, finding her voice enough to whisper, "Speak demands if Zan would have promises."
Zan released her foot catching her face gently in his large hand, his thumb lightly stroking the short soft fur of her cheek, saying in his low deep rumble, "Zan would have Athra speak her needs and have them filled. Zan is careless in action, but he
does
care, and would see Athra safe, with life
and
freedom. Zan would have Athra's promise that she would give voice to complaint in knowledge that she is not nuisance. Squeak, and be greased," he nodded at the greasy salve with a smirk.
Athra smirked in spite of herself, nodding, "Athra promise. First need this one would put to voice is a need for sleep to restore fatigued muscles, and the comfort of a wide furry chest and large strong arms to draw warmth from." Zan scoffed softly and rose to gather bundles of long grass, laying the blanket from his pack over it to make a crude makeshift bed, rearranging the items in the pack to leave it comfortable as he laid his head on it. He settled down holding his arm out to her in a welcoming gesture. She joined him on the blanket, slipping her arm under his cloak and around him, laying her head on his shoulder as he drew his cloak over them both.
Zan fell into an exhausted sleep moments after Athra curled into his arms, the same dream returning that he'd had the previous night, of Liliah curled in his arms as he had asked her if she would have him take her far from Balmora and captivity, only to have her fade as though a spirit fading to mist and then nothingness. Waking from the recurring nightmare, he fought back the feeling of hopelessness the dream left in its wake, the feeling of grasping for smoke that dissipates between fingers. He looked up at the sky, realizing it was a couple of hours till dawn, and rested the urge to rise and break camp as he looked down at the Khajiit girl sleeping on his chest. She was truly beautiful, her fur long and silky, pure white except for darker rings of dark gray around each of her eyes. Where Zan's skin was the color of freshly spilled ink, hers was pink under her white fur. He saw her stir with troubled dreams, and stroked her face reassuringly, causing her to sigh softly and cuddle into him as peaceful slumber returned.
Expelling a sigh he leaned down nuzzling her mane between her ears with his nose, grooming her gently as she slept. She didn't wake, stirring only slightly to stretch against him. His thoughts swirled restlessly, knowing he had gained a lot of ground on Liliah and the Altmer. He could only guess how much until they reached the next town, but there was an advantage in that Liliah and her liberator weren't on the run or trying to hide their passing. They were not covering great distances between the campfires, and Zan guessed that Liliah was likely slowing the Altmer's travels even more than Athra had slowed his. The last set of tracks he had seen near one of their camp spots had been less than a day old, and he knew either this town or the next, he was going to catch up to the two. He would have a chance to look into her eyes, to apologize for returning too slowly, and ask if he still held her heart.
He didn't know what he would find when he caught up with the two, but he was afraid Athra was right. He feared that the opportunity had passed and the mer who would have gladly gone with him a short time ago, by now had most likely shed her tears, branded him as insincere in his words, and pushed him from her mind. He wondered about the high elf she had taken up company with, wondering what the Altmer had to gain from freeing her. All he had managed to learn as he had tracked her was that everyone who saw her remembered her, and each had said she looked well, even though a few he had spoken with had called the Altmer prudish and snobby, the innkeeper in Balmora going so far as to say he was short tempered, all agreed the mer seemed honorable, and was very protective of her. Zan knew no matter the outcome, he needed the closure of seeing her again, telling her how sorry he was that he returned too late, and looking into the eyes of the mer that had beat him to task by less than a full week.
He looked down at Athra again, promising himself no matter what the outcome, he was going to make an effort to back a little kinder to the slave he
had
liberated, starting with suitable clothing and footwear for the journey. He nuzzled her face again, rising as the sun brightened the horizon and pulling his arm gently out from under her. He picked up his pack as she shivered in the sudden warmth removed, opening bleary eyes and rubbing them with a yawn. He saw her rise slowly to her feet, wincing as she stood, stepping gingerly and decided that when they got to the town ahead, they would take a day and let her feet recover, and look into the possibility of finding a Senche mount that could handle an off the road path better than a horse.
