My first fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for taking your time and reading through this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, nor any of the characters present (except for Dila and Siris, as they are created by me)

All rights to Bethesda

The road back to Riften was usually sunny and dry, but that day the storm wasn`t letting up. The caravan slowly progressed, their leader speaking that they couldn`t be too far from Riften. They had walked all the way from Windhelm, and were not going to be stopped by a little bit of rain.

Dila struggled to push forward. The wind was blowing hard, and the rain made her fiery red fur heavy. By her side, Kharjo was panting heavily. Walking around in heavy steel armor already made him tire earlier than the rest, but with that wind, she was surprised he was still up. Dila fixed her green eyes ahead and she pushed forward. If they could get to Riften, it would have been worthwhile.

The rain had come suddenly: in an instant, the warm sun reminded her of the sands of her homeland. The next second, the caravan was wandering blindly into a sea of grayness.

If only they had houses on any other Hold. If only the guards let them get past the city gates of Riften and buy houses and have real jobs… Instead, the Khajit were forced to migrate from city to city, camp to camp, surviving on what they could hunt or buy. The thought made Dila shudder in anger, even if she didn`t notice it; her body was already shuddering from the cold water anyway.

Her legs were killing her. She would do anything to sleep in a warm bed for once. She just wanted to lay down and, and…

"No." she thought to herself. "You are going to reach Riften, and you are going to survive."

They had been blundering through the storm for about three hours. And it didn`t show signs of letting up.

Until it suddenly, well, let up.

The raining stopped, the clouds spread and Dila noticed it that the sunset behind the storm was beautifull. The warm fingers of the sun touched her fur, and she closed her eyes to muster up some of the heat and dry herself.

- Stop right there. – Someone from shouted, with a distinctive Nord accent hammering every single letter of the three words. She opened her eyes. Three fair haired, blond mercenaries stood in front of her. – Don`t even try reaching for that bow, kitty. – the biggest one said. She raised her arms up. She took a quick glance to the side. She could see the rest of the caravan. The storm had drained them. There was no chance they could fight. Even Kharjo, with all his usual stamina and strength, didn`t seem able to do nothing else than just stare at the bandits with his arms up while panting heavily.

- So, all Khajit, eh? – the middle one said. He chucled to himself and stepped forward. He had a strong breath and he wore iron armor. He drew a long, steel sword from his back. He contemplated it for a while, right before spinning and cutting Kharjo`s head right of his shoulders. As Dro`Marash yelled and kneeled by his side, the mercenary began to laugh.

- All of you are nothing but filthy thieves. Like you! – he shouted, turning toward Dila. He then noticed her bow. – Where did you get that? Stole it?

In truth, no. That Orcish bow was all that was left of her time spent as a… Oh, she wouldn`t let him take advantage of her.

- I took it from the last bandit who tried to steal from us. He looked like you. – she said, slit pupils defiantly aiming at his eyes.

The Nord chuckled and hit her on her face. Her position faltered and she stumbled to the ground.

- You got quite a mouth, don`t you? I will certainly enjoy seeing what else you can do with it. - he said, crouching near her. Then he turned his attention to the other bandits. – Kill the other two. I heard quite a lot of stories about Khajit women in bed.

Dila started to panick. The other two mercenaries nodded in acknowledgement and swiftly thrusted their swords on her two friends`s throats. She screamed, and the leader of the mercenaries put his hand on her throat and started to choke her. She desperately tried to claw her way out of his grasp

- So, you little thief… - the leader sneered. – Shall we get started?

Right then, something shiny entered her field of view.

It was something small, almost the size of her palm.

It spun graciously before entering the bandit`s head and spewing a lot of blood as it came out through the other ear.

000000

Siris had been walking in the storm for quite a while now. He couldn`t remember how long, though. He remembered leaving Riften when the sun was at it`s zenith. The perfect day, warm and dry. Then the clouds came along and ruined everything.

"Why do I even bothered?" he thought, shielding his eyes from the unrelenting downpour "Why couldn`t I stay in Riften? I just had to go to have this bright idea to go to Windhelm, straight out of the blue. It`s not like I own Black-Briar any favors this time."

His coat flowed behind him, and every gust of wind made Siris afraid he was going to fall down a hill and break his arm… again.

His sword was hitting his left leg continuously. He did need a smaller sword. But it was difficult to part with his Dai-Katana after so many adventures together. Say what you will about the Akvari, but they did know one thing or two about forging a good sword.

The rain was furiously pelting him, and he suddenly felt a certain urge to go back to Riften and punch the face of that fortune-teller who said him his close future was something warm and comfortable until she reached the top of the Throat-of-the-World.

He had already run into two trees when the sky suddenly cleared and the sun shone. Looking up, Siris noticed there were no more clouds in the sky. At least he would be able to walk a few kilometers in the sun before the snow made him complain of his luck again.

He lifted his scaly arms and stretched. His green scales always dried easily in the sun, and his black war paint was so old it had already infiltrated into his skin.

He then heard a scream.

Rushing to a position behind the trees, he saw, on a road bellow him a small Khajit caravan, previously made up of four people. Previously, because by now one of their guards was one head shorter, thanks to a Nord bandit.

He saw the bandit slap a woman Khajit on her cheek and she fell down. Siris reached for the throwing knives on his belt. He approached the position of the thieves and readied one knife with his left hand, while reaching for his sword with his right. He threw the knife as the bandit leader turned to the Khajit on the ground and chocked her.

Perfect throw.

00000

Dila kicked the Nord`s lifeless body off of her and reached for her bow. The other thieves had been distracted with the bodies of her friends, but were now drawing her weapons and rushing toward her. She drew one arrow and fired it at the biggest bandit`s shoulder. It penetrated his leather armor and made him scream in pain. She readied another and shot it at his knee, hoping to bring him down. However, he dodged it. She was now at the Bandit`s striking arch. He lifted his arm up and started to bring it down.

"This is it, then" Dila thought, closing her eyes "I have lived a full life"

Instead of the pain and darkness of a sword entering her head, she heard the clanking sound of sword crashing with sword. As she opened her eyes, an Argonian held a Dai-Katana over his head with two arms, blocking the Nord`s overhead strike. She blinked in confusion, then proceeded to ready another arrow and fire it at the other thief, hitting him in the neck and killing him.

The Argonian spun gracefully and kicked his assailant in the stomach. As the big bandit flinched backward, he used his momentum to give a one handed strike to the mercenary`s head, cutting it away.

The danger of the Nord`s passed, but not of the unknown Argonian. He stood there, Dai-Katana in one hand, for a few seconds, before turning toward her and giving her a sharp glare. His eyes too were green.

Then he grinned, and offered a hand to Dila, still fallen on the ground.

- It seems that you owe me a drink. – he said, and chuckled at his own joke.