Adventures of a Khajiiti Hunter - Xithic's Journal

Fredas, 23rd of Mid Year, 585

It's been nearly five years... five years since this one dared open the pages of this catalog of misfortunes he once called a journal. Long ago Xithic made a vow never to look at this book again, and kept it well. He should have destroyed it--and indeed, he nearly did several times. But this one never could follow through with it. Even though it would mean his death should anyone find it, he just can't bring himself to do it.

So now he sits alone on the floor of his mate's house, huddled in a corner and surrounded by darkness , adding words that will condemn him again and again to a tome that no one but his accusers will read. It doesn't matter. Not anymore.

It's over.

The day started off well enough, he supposes. That eerie fog stayed throughout the day, and the forest was quiet. Everyone knew the daedra were on the move, and so we prepared--stockpiling supplies, fortifying the tavern, sharpening blades and fletching arrows. Terath split us into groups, each tasked with defending a section of the town. This one went with Boris to defend the northern approach--a good defensive spot, to be sure, with a narrow winding path overlooked by high cliffs. She's a clever one, that Boris. Xithic didn't have to say a thing--she knew to position him over the cliffs.

It wasn't long before the daedra came. It started with a few scamps, but soon expanded into a whole range of terrible beasts--dremora, winged twilights, werewolves, and even a couple daedroths. It was a hard-fought battle, and Xithic is not sure if anyone could have come out of it completely unscathed. He helped carry a fellow Khajiit to the clinic after the battle, and stayed to have his own wounds mended. And that's when everything went wrong.

One of the town's defenders--a Khajiit named Ma'azha, he thinks--was gravely wounded in the battle. It seems he was a vampire, and lost control of himself while he was being treated. One of the new guards, the tall Altmer one, went mad and started silver-testing everyone. When he came to this one, the guard wouldn't listen to reason, and insisted Khajiit submit to testing. And so, Xithic panicked. He knocked the guard over and ran. And, by what must surely have been the Hungry Cat's blessing, he escaped with his tail intact.

So, now what? By now, the guard will have alerted the rest, so there will be no returning to town. He could stay here, since the guards have no authority outside of town... but the Fighters' Guild does. Dark moons, what if they tell Terath? Will he send a hunter to track Xithic down? Will this one wake up later tonight with one of Wren's silver blades in his back?

What is Xithic to do?

Loredas, 24th of Mid Year, 585

Xithic woke up on the floor this morning, in the same position he was in after finishing last night's entry. No blades. Not yet, at least. Suki must have not wanted to bother this one when she returned home, and left him where he laid. She's so sweet... he only hopes he gets a chance to talk to her later tonight. She shouldn't have to learn of everything that's happened from a guard with a silver dagger in hand.

This one spent the morning gathering his belongings. He didn't really give it much thought at the time... it was more out of instinct than anything else. It's just what he is used to doing, ever since he was turned. At the first sign of suspicion, you run. It doesn't matter how slight--a little dried blood on one's boots, an errant sniff in public, a growl slipping out during a night of passion--you run to stay alive.

This one made it to the front gate before he was overcome by a strange sensation. And then he knew: he couldn't do it. Whenever he's left towns before, he's never actually lost anything more important than, perhaps, a discount at the local watering hole. But now... he has a place to call home, a dear friend who depends on him, and a loving mate and soon-to-be wife. People and places he has shed blood to protect. Xithic can't leave. He won't.

He'll die first.

Sundas, 25th of Mid Year, 585

Wren came to visit this one last night. Xithic caught her scent long before she arrived, and the fear and dread that ran through his mind the previous night came flooding back at that first sniff. Thankfully, his hunter's instinct soon regained control. If she was coming to end this one, she wouldn't allow herself to be detected so easily.

For her part, Wren did seem genuinely concerned about Xithic... well, at least as genuine as someone like her can be. She told him what he had already thought (or perhaps only what he had hoped)--that she did not actually hate this one, and was only mad at the choices he had made. As far as he can tell, she has kept Xithic's condition secret, and could have led a mob straight to his door--but she didn't. Anyway, It was as close to an apology as he is going to get from her, so he replied in kind.

She then took this one to see Theo. That mer... he always seems to make dark moments a little brighter, and Xithic could surely use some light right now. We talked for a while, and started to come up with a plan to take the heat off. The guard never actually managed to touch Xithic's skin with silver, thank the moons, so the town can only make assumptions of his condition based off of his flight. If we can convince the town that this one does not bear the Hungry Cat's gift, he might be able to escape the executioner's axe.

There's another fight tonight. Xithic really isn't in any condition to participate, but he needs to get out for a bit, amongst his peers. At least he won't have to worry about guards and wolf hunters, if only for a few hours.

Fredas, 30th of Mid Year, 585

Xithic received a visit from an old friend today. Is friend the right word? We've spoken only a handful of times, and yet it feels like he has known him for years. Brother, perhaps? Not by blood, certainly. The thought that even a drop of ashskin blood--even at half strength--could course through this one's veins is enough to turn his stomach. No... we're bound by something else. Something deeper, something primal. We share a gift.

And it seems that we share the same enemy, as well. The treachery and barbarity of the Dres knows no bound, and Kib himself was subject to their cruelty for many, many years. That they were vampires as well only further condemns their entire house. Is it not enough to enslave us to build their cities and tend their fields? Must we also serve as food to satiate the appetites of the most corrupted among them?

[A few stray blotches of ink stain the paper here, and it would appear that the quill had scratched through the paper.]

Kib brought something unexpected with him--an offer. An offer that would end the problems Xithic now faces; an offer that would turn the silver daggers away from him and make him welcome in town again. But he asks a heavy price--one that this one is not sure he is willing to pay. He would have to give up everything. He can't do it now, and Xithic has faith in his friends, but if Theo's plan fails it will leave this one with few other options.

He also brought with him an opportunity. An invitation to participate in a hunt with his friends. "Worthy prey", he claims. Xithic eagerly accepted, of course. Truth be told, this one would have accepted even if the hunt was to gather nightcrawlers for fishing. He desperately needs this--it's been so long since he has been able to hunt with others like him. The beast inside knows it, too. It been all he can do to keep him suppressed since. Patience... patience is the key. One more day, and then Xithic can give him the sweet release he demands.

But now, Xithic will sleep, and tomorrow prepare. The hunt calls.

Loredas, 1st of Sun's Height, 585

Xithic woke up late this evening to find himself in the courtyard, laying among the flowers in Suki's garden bed. He was naked as the night he was born, covered head-to-tail in a foul mixture of daedroth blood, zombie guts, sweat, mud, rain, and moons know what else. His fur was matted, every muscle in his body ached and burned, and he smelled like a corpse wagon stored in an abandoned Alik'r tannery at midday in Sun's Height.

It was heaven.

Pack hunting -- what can this one say to describe what it feels like? The moment you realize that this is what every part of your being was made for. That you are fulfilling some ancient, primal command. To surrender yourself completely to nature, among your peers, without fear of judgment or retribution. Complete acceptance. No guards. No silver. No frightened whispers or judgmental glares. Only a band of powerful hunters, united together for a single purpose.

The details are hazy -- they always are when he turns. Xithic doesn't remember where we went or how many foes we faced, but he remembers the feelings. Moons, does he ever. The taste of blood, the satisfying crunch of bone, the cries of the wounded and dying, and the howls of victory ringing through the valley. Those not bestowed with the Master's gift say this one should feel shame, that reveling in such bloody happenings is abhorrent and unnatural. But how can it be wrong, when every part of his body screams that it is right? Every animal hunts in no less violent a fashion, why should it be any different for us?

This one wonders... do vampires feel the same when feeding as a coven? He has seen them feed before, though it never appeared that they felt anything close to what Xithic did today. Would Theo have any idea what this one was talking about?

Hopefully, the big game has started to return to the forests. Xithic is going to need some coin... he has flowers to buy.

Tirdas, 4th of Sun's Height, 585

Took a trip to the shrine again, today. Xithic finds himself drawn to that place more and more these days, though he supposes it's understandable why. Each day it seems there are fewer places in Malabal Tor where this one can dare show his face. With Suki working most of the day--and night--and Theo tied up guarding the town, Xithic now often finds himself with little to do and no one to talk to. The shrine, then, serves as a good reminder that he is not alone. When he kneels in front of the Lord of Hunters and invokes his name, he feels invigorated and imbued with strength and clarity. It is comforting, too, to know that while this one may be hunted now, he is watched over by one who fears neither guard nor silver, and suffers no betrayal to remain unpunished.

Cimber found this one while he was at the shrine, and Xithic is glad that he did. Cimber said he was implicated in some sort of murder outside of town. He found a body and tried to do the right thing by reporting it to the guard. And how do they repay him? They accuse him of murder! But it doesn't end there.

Wren--that treacherous little traitor. She ran to the guard and exposed Cimber and suggested he be tested. The clawless coward knew that Cimber has never hurt anyone in town, and she knew her words would be a death sentence for him! There is no justification for this gross betrayal of trust--none. How long, this one wonders, will it be before she decides to betray Xithic? Or Theo? Or how many others in town?

No. Something has to be done.

Something will be done.

Middas, 5th of Sun's Height, 585

Xithic is reminded of a story he was told, way back when he was a cub. All Khajiit, from the moment they are born, honor both the moons and themselves by dancing the Two Moons Dance. It is our connection to Jode and Jone, tethering our spirits to the twin moons so that once we pass from this world we may soar on Khenarthi's winds to the Sands Behind the Stars. All Khajiit honor the moons in this way--even this one, though he will never see the grand sugar dunes himself.

There are those, however, who dance not to the sweet light of the moons, but rather to the incessant beating of the Dark Heart. Their dance is foul, corrupted, and honors neither Jode nor Jone. These are the Bent Cats. They themselves are not evil, but rather are only lost. Creatures to be pitied, not feared. At death, their souls are dragged down to the Dark by the dro-m'Athra. There, they labor for the Heart, until either their bent forms straighten and are reconciled to the Moons, or until they abandon all hope of redemption--becoming dro-m'Athra themselves.

This story is taught to all Khajiit, and many keep it close to their hearts all the days of their lives. But there is more--a part often overlooked or ignored in the retelling. There is a third type of cat, neither bent nor straight, whose sole purpose is trickery and deceit. Those who feign the Two Moons Dance, pretending to be trustworthy while plotting to draw innocent Khajiit away from the Moons' bright light. They encourage the straight to bend, and lead the upright down the dark path with honeyed words and treacherous lies. They are the Deceivers, and the Betrayers; and while the innocents led to become Bent Cats are creatures to be pitied, those who betrayed them to the Dark are to be rebuked, scorned, and struck down. But above all else, they are to be forgotten--blotted out from all existence, as if they had never been born.

Thus is the fate of all betrayers.

[The faint outline of Wren's name appears directly below the last line, but it has been vigorously scratched out by a sharpened quill.]

Turdas, 7th of Sun's Height, 585

So much has happened in the past two days, this one has no idea where to begin...

Pleasant thoughts first, then. Suki wasn't mad about the flowers, thank the moons. Xithic came home yesterday to find her finishing up replanting those he accidentally destroyed. We then proceeded to almost destroy them again. Well, at least the soil is well tilled.

After Cimber met this one at the shrine on Tirdas, we had a long discussion about our fate and the fates of others like us around town. Xithic has hardly heard a peep from the pack, and aside from a brief (but most welcome) visit from Vesh over the weekend, the pack is nowhere to be seen. Their silence is deafening. This one has great respect for Ty. She has been nothing but kind to him. She welcomed him into her pack with open arms, and has guided us through some tough times with a steady paw. But laying low is no longer an option. Wolves are dropping left and right, and if we continue to roll over like some servile family pet, there will soon be no pack left to care.

Cimber is angry, and justifiably so. He wants to strike back at the guards and the Fighters' Guild, and again this one cannot blame him. But two wolves against the might of the town will only result in two more dead wolves, and Xithic can't abandon his mate and his friends for the Hunting Grounds quite yet. So, we decided to act a bit more covertly. We ambushed a small caravan bound for Vulkwasten just east of town, incapacitating the guards with some odd sleeping potion Cimber had cooked up. Left most of the cargo intact, but took away a lockbox bound for the Town Guard containing a small amount of silver coin and several large ingots of silver--no doubt to be used for the coating of weapons and armor. We sold it all off to a trader that Cimber knows. Cimber said he uses her for obtaining hard-to-find ingredients for his brews, but Xithic didn't think she looked like the cooking type. It doesn't matter right now. We're going to need more wolves on our side if we are to have any real effect on the town, and to do that we need coin.

Brother Terrance dropped by later that evening, shortly after we returned to the house. Apparently, he's known about this one for quite some time. Cimber was less than enthused, and this one had to wait until Cimber passed out to speak further. Terrance seems genuine in his desire to help, though Xithic thinks his plan is misguided. He seems to think that if Xithic admits what he is publicly and asks for help that it will earn him a degree of mercy from the Guard. This one thinks that will just get him the axe sooner.

Finally, this one paid Theo a visit this afternoon to talk to him about Cimber and Wren. Xithic can hardly believe it--Theo defended her! He seemed utterly convinced that Wren's suggestion to test Cimber was an innocent act. That she didn't know about him. Ridiculous! Cimber said the body he found showed no sign of being attacked by werewolves. Why else then would Wren suggest a test, other than her knowing Cimber and this one were close? And even if what was said was true, what does he want Xithic to do? Just forget about Wren placing a death sentence upon his pack brother? Cimber and Xithic are not rabid ferals, carving a path of death through town. We are not the threats she needs to worry about. But if she, and the guard, and the guild continue to push, they will end up creating exactly what they are hoping to destroy.

Morndas, 10th of Sun's Height, 585

Cimber is dead.

They killed him--the closest thing this one had to a brother. Executed, they say, simply because of who he is.

Moons, it feels like only yesterday that Xithic was alongside Cimber, easing him through his first shifting. Or stalking deer through Valenwood for his first hunt. Or fleeing through Greenshade, pursued by hunters, learning how quickly that one can shift from predator to prey. We hunted together, drank together, prayed together. This one wanted to give him the companionship and the guidance that Xithic never had when he first turned. But that's all over now. He's dead. [the ink here has been blurred by a fallen teardrop]

We had such plans, Cimber and Xithic. We were finally going to take a stand and fight back. Show the others there are options other than simply rolling over and waiting for the threat to pass. But now what is there? This one can't do it on his own. His friends won't help him, his pack won't help him... not even his mate. How can they all truly be so blind?

Or could they be right? Suki brought Ty over to talk to Xithic today. He wishes he could say that he was surprised--that she offered some new insight, or roused the pack to action. But no, it was more of the same. "Keep your head down. Lay low. You'll make things worse." He supposes that is to be expected. Ty's a pack leader, and she's only looking out for the safety of those under her charge. But surely she can't be blind to what's going on?

Suki agreed with her. She's worried, of course, and tried to explain that any resistance would simply make things worse and put everyone in danger. We talked of options, but Suki can't see a future for this one if he cannot be cured. Ha-- "Cure". As if it is some terrible burden this one yearns to cast off, or some crippling weakness that will drive him to the grave. No, it is a part of Xithic--it makes him fast, strong. A true hunter. It would be like asking him to remove his tail.

Anyway, this one thought she was being a bit dramatic, and he flatly refused to even consider the option before, but then she said something that made Xithic's heart sink. She said she was afraid. Not afraid for what might happen to him. She was afraid of him. Suki is the love of his life. There is nothing he would not do for her. Moons, he would die for her in a heartbeat. This one hurts at the thought that she might feel anything less than completely safe in his arms.

So, now this one sets out to do the impossible. He hopes Dreuth hasn't left the area yet... we have much to discuss.

Turdas, 13th of Sun's Height, 585

Familiar scents coming out of S'ren-ja these days. It seems a good-sized portion of the town has decided to pay Elsweyr a visit. At first, this one was worried it was a hunting party, sent to finish him off. But there are far too many now for all this to be over one Khajiit. The Guard and Fighters' Guild are well-represented, and everyone seems outfitted for war. This one kept his distance up until now--he hadn't wanted to risk being seen with so many silver blades nearby. His friends are there now, though, and he must admit he misses them greatly.

Xithic put on an old set of leathers, wrapped his head in a mask, and carefully crept into town. Ran into a few friends, including Kibary, who helped this one with a new identity. No close encounters with any guards, which is for the best. He doesn't want to be chased out of two towns in one month.

On his way out of town, Xithic noticed he was being followed by a young mer with pale skin. He took off when this one tried to confront him, but was easily tracked to a nearby barn. Quite skittish and very nervous, and for good reason, too. His scent reaked of a vampire. He may have been newly-turned, but he seems to have adapted fairly well to his heightened senses. After all, he survived sneaking around a town occupied by a fully armed and alert Fighters' Guild chapter. He also was aware enough to know that Xithic was different, though this one does not think he knows exactly why yet. He knows Theo, though this one does not exactly know how. But that is a good thing, regardless. If anyone can help him to survive what he's going through, Theo would be that one.

Our conversation was interrupted by another more familiar face. Keys found her way to the barn, looking for a place to think. This one is pretty sure she recognized him. He told her a story, said she was confused. Either she bought it, or she didn't care. In any case, she didn't seem too worried and didn't run straight to the guards. She's a good sort, that Keys. Has more sense than half the town.

This one might return again tomorrow. Theo's bound to show up sooner or later.

Loredas, 15th of Sun's Height, 585

Visited S'ren-ja again yesterday. Travelling around passing himself off as Ka'zhar is becoming easier the more this one does it. He even managed to speak a few words to Kashya, and she was none the wiser. To be honest, Xithic never thought he'd actually be thankful for the way many view his people. No one bats an eye at a sneaky Khajiit standing in a dark corner in a tavern--they're more focused on their coinpouches.

Keys and Cirlin told this one a fantastical story--one he almost didn't believe. Apparently, the two young ones have been haunted by a strange apparition that so far only they can see. Xithic would have laughed it off as the colorful imagination of two young minds, but they said the spirit called himself Cimber! Apparently he spoke to them, telling them he was sent back to the town by the Hungry Cat himself! This one never heard of a werewolf spirit. He always assumed their souls journeyed to the Master's hunting grounds, never to return to Nirn again. But far be it for Khajiit to question the designs of the Lord of Hunters. If it truly is Cimber, if his brother has truly been sent back, then the reason for it must indeed be quite important.

Terrance was less impressed. He started talking about banishing spirits and sending them back to Oblivion. Said that Cimber is probably back to complete some foul purpose, and warned the cubs that he may try to harm them. Why is this so hard to understand? Cimber was no threat to the town when he was alive... and he's certainly no threat now that he's not. Xithic needs to learn more, but he can't let Terrance get too close. Cimber was already killed once; this one is not going to let him suffer a second death if he can help it.

Xithic followed Keys back to town today. We didn't get to talk about Cimber like this one wanted. She's quite a bit more clever than he gave her credit for. She wasn't fooled by Ka'zhar. She seems to want to help, and again didn't yell for the guards, so he hopes this one's trust is not misplaced. She's only a cub, after all--if she does tell, few are likely to believe her, especially if they already think she has a wild imagination.

Middas, 19th of Sun's Height, 585

Xithic was actually having a pretty good day today--at least at first. He wandered into town as Ka'zhar again, and got to see the outcome of a rather nasty brawl between some Altmer healer and that pathetic excuse for a guard with the silver blade. Seeing him bloodied, broken, and being carried off to the clinic definitely put a spring in this one's step. What's more, it seems Wren suffered some sort of attack by an unknown assailant. Apparently she finally put a crick in the tail of the wrong cat, and that cat wanted payback. Not sure who it was--this one imagines the list must be quite long by now. Thieves' Guild? Dark Brotherhood? Skooma runners? Maybe Wraesha reaching out from behind bars? Whoever it was must have wanted it pretty bad--Keys said the attacker tried to strangle her to death, and you don't get that close for everyday business. Doesn't matter, it couldn't have happened to a nicer person.

Keys wouldn't tell this one where she is recovering, though he can probably guess she's holed up in her fortress house, surrounded by her senche, and her associates, and her ashskin mate.

But every moon has its dark side, yes? It didn't take long for this one's good day to come crashing down around him. Cimber wasn't executed by just any guard. It was Theo. Theo held the blade that took his life. How could he? Cimber was a friend and a brother. Theo knew how Cimber felt about him, even if he didn't feel the same in return. Why? Did he think killing Cimber would wipe the memory from his mind? Did he strike out in a fit of bloodlust? Is he so desperate to feel 'normal' that he would give up those that care for him the most, just so he can keep a job? Nothing sounds like the loyal friend that Xithic knows. So many questions... and no answers.

This one needs to find him. To talk, for an explanation. For...something. Keys said he was going to Cyrodiil, but why? Why he would go there with it still under daedric occupation? Whatever the reason, it can't be good. Xithic only hopes he can reach him before he ventures too far toward the City. Perhaps Nasir knows something.

Turdas, 20th of Sun's Height, 585

This one is exhausted. He tried Theo's house last night, but he wasn't home. No sign of Nasir either, though Xithic is not sure whether he was away or simply refused to answer. Didn't matter, there are only two ways into Cyrodiil: by land or by sea. Well, he supposes one could go by portal as well, but if Theo left in that way there is nothing Xithic could do to find him.

There are only two ways into Cyrodiil by sea: around Senchal and up the Niben River, or across the bay to Anvil. Either way would require planning to book passage on a ship, and Xithic doesn't think Theo would have had the time to do that. So that leaves the overland routes. He wouldn't have taken any of the major crossings--too much of a risk of being pressed into service or arrested as a spy. Theo hates the sun, so he wouldn't travel too deep into Elsweyr to cross when there are closer options available to him. So that leaves northern Malabal Tor and Reaper's March. The crossing at Arenthia is too well guarded, so Xithic focused his efforts along the southern riverbank heading west .

This one's always enjoyed hunting at night. Most men and mer would call him crazy for preferring to track in the dark. They forget, Khajiit has eyes. Prey get careless in the darkness, thinking it protects them. Guards and wolf hunters fear it. They either hide themselves in their towns until daybreak, or wrap themselves in the light of torches. Either way, it frees Xithic to do what he does.

Nothing. Xithic found no trace of Theo. Not a footprint, and not a scent. A thousand scenarios have crossed this one's mind since. Could he have missed something? A hidden trail, or and overlooked piece of trash? Could the Valenwood rains have washed away the tracks? Perhaps Theo was masking his scent? The mind has a thousand doubts, but instinct says differently. Xithic is a hunter--a very good one. He did not miss the trail. There was no trail. Theo didn't pass by land.

Ran into an old friend just after Xithic returned. They looked quite a bit different since the last time we met, though it truly doesn't bother this one as much as it might. Disguises don't seem so odd when one's life depends upon it. He just wishes that...

Later. Sleep now.

Fredas, 21st of Sun's Height, 585

It's been almost two weeks. The warm winds of Elsweyr are little comfort in a cold bed at night.

Tirdas, 25th of Sun's Height, 585

It happened again. Xithic was in a long conversation with Ja'hann on the rocks just outside the tavern a few days ago. Found out a bit more about the real Ka'zhar, got some assurances that this one would not get recognized by any of Ka'zhar's former acquaintances, and even started talking about possible cures. That's when he felt the hunger rise. It's not that he's a stranger to the feeling. Quite the opposite, in fact. But it was different this time. It was sudden, insistent, and nearly overpowering. It hasn't been that intense since shortly after he first turned.

Perhaps it's just the stress. He's an outcast from town. His friend is missing, his mate is gone. He hasn't been hunting as regularly as he usually does. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume it to simply be the wolf filling a hole left by a weakened resolve. But it's never happened so suddenly--normally this one can tell when the beast stirs and can usually move off in time. This time, he nearly shifted in front of Ja'hann. Xithic is not sure if he knew what was happening. If he did, he didn't say anything.

Maybe he just needs some more rest. But it's so cold at night now. Moons, what he wouldn't do to see Suki again, to know she's all right. To hold her paw in his own again. Just for a day, or an hour, or a minute. Something. Anything.

Fredas, 28th of Sun's Height, 585

Theo hasn't returned yet. Xithic keeps checking, though. Just in case.

Morndas, 31st of Sun's Height, 585

Three weeks, now. Xithic was wrong--a minute isn't enough.

Xithic saw her today. It was only for a brief moment. She passed this one on her way out of the tavern. Moons, it took every ounce of his willpower to keep from running to her. But he can't. Too risky. Every day Xithic spends in town raises the chance he'll be caught. He accepts that, he understands the risk. But he will never do anything to put Suki in danger. If anyone is innocent in all of this, it would be her.

She looked well, but this one knows there is something wrong. She didn't react to all to his presence. He knows her...if she had recognized Xithic, he would have gotten at least a very angry glare. But if she didn't recognize him, then that worries him even more. In all the time this one has known her, he has never seen her fail to welcome a new guest to the tavern. It's just not in her nature to be anything but a friendly, welcoming presence. Mask or no, Ka'zhar should have gotten at least a faint smile or a friendly wave. But no, nothing. Not even a blink or a sigh.

Moons, he hopes she's all right--that it's simply the stress of being apart, and not something more serious. He wishes she would just visit. To talk a bit, have a meal, spend the night...

<Undated entry>

[The writing that follows is shaky, uneven, and barely readable. It was clearly written by an unsteady hand. The page itself is smeared with an alarming amount of blood.]

What day is it? How did he get here?

The pain... it makes it hard to write. The burning, the blood. At least the senche bites are healing already. The sword wounds, though -- they won't close. It doesn't matter how tightly this one tries to bind them, they break open again with each move he makes. There's such a mess in here, now. Moons, there's so much blood. If he stays still, maybe he'll get better. Just keep writing until then.

The pain's starting to fade now. So, that's good. It's starting to get darker in here, too. It must be nearing nightfall. Was he out all day? It doesn't seem like it's been that long. Or maybe it's been too long? Don't know now. Xithic's just so tired. Maybe if he takes a moment to rest. Yes, just to close his eyes for a few seconds--

3rd of Last Seed, 585

Xithic is alive. Barely. He almost wishes he wasn't.

Cirlin said today was the third, and that this one had slept all of last night, through the morning, and into this afternoon. Time seems to have stood still these past few days, and Xithic is having trouble piecing it all together. He'll try to write what he remembers here, and hopefully he can make sense of it all.

Much of that night is a blur. He remembers following Wren out of town, some heated words, and the drawing of swords. Everything went red. The burning. Dark moons, the burning. Was Luc there? Xithic didn't want her to get hurt. Why did she fight? He hopes she's all right.

Dream and reality intertwine here. It's difficult to separate them. Visions of running, feelings of being pursued. Sounds--a distant howl, the snapping of twigs, the clanking of silver upon silver. Jode and Jone hanging full in the sky, but different. Not bright but not dark... dim perhaps? No, they were tinted--red as blood. Another sound--that of rushing waters. Cooling, refreshing. A new scent--strange, yet familiar. A dark figure silhouetted against the night sky. A great stag with piercing red eyes staring at this one in judgment, its voice calling his name. Xithic remembers trying to focus on the figure, but his vision was blurry and fading. Then suddenly, a bright light. The stag's form fades and shifts, its figure replaced with the soft features of his beloved mate.

Suki came back, in his hour of greatest need. She brought him back from the brink of death, cleaning the blood and stitching his wounds shut. But she was cold, distant, and angry. Her words were biting. She may have saved this one's life, but she left him with a wound far more painful than any he's ever received.

She left. Xithic hurt her, she said. Not with blade or claw, but no less painful. The wolf, his banishment, all the deception and violence... she couldn't bear it anymore. She won't talk to him now, and said that unless he sweeps all this away and leaves it behind, it will be over. For good. He begged her, pleaded with her to stay. She walked out the door, leaving a broken cat in her wake. He couldn't move, he couldn't think... and so he did the only thing he could. He cried. Bawled like a cub who had his sweetmilk taken away. Sobbed until he could sob no more, and drifted into unconsciousness.

It hurts. It hurts so much. He had never felt pain like the moment Wren's silver blades pierced his skin, but this is worse. Moons, he would bear a thousand silver cuts to rid himself of this awful feeling gnawing at his gut. Why did he drive her away? Why didn't he see what he was doing to her? How could he have been so stupid?

Xithic has no idea how long he was out. When he awoke, his hunter's instinct took over. He forced himself to his feet and began retracing his steps, trying to cover up his trail. It was there he ran into a couple of unexpected walkers. Two hunters--Annor and Cirlin. At first, he suspected they were hired to hunt this one down, and he drew his bow on them. Bad decision, it turns out. The strain from drawing the bowstring ruptured the stitches on his back. He collapsed to the ground in unbearable pain, certain that he had found his end.

But they weren't here to hunt Xithic, they were here to heal him. It was exactly what this one needed--loyal friends when he was at his most lonely and vulnerable. Such honorable and compassionate mer. They give him strength, and they give him hope. Xithic only hopes he can prove himself worthy of their friendship.

They've taken him to a safe place now. Still in Valenwood, but far enough from Vulkwasten to be a fine safe haven. If this one's nose is right, they've even taken steps to mask this one's scent. They're smart, Annor and Cirlin. Especially Cirlin. The young wood elf is already a fine archer, and she's well on her way to becoming a truly skilled and deadly huntress. She's found herself a fine mate in Annor, who is a fine hunter in his own right, with a good head on his shoulders. Xithic is glad he and Cirlin were able to find such a warm and cozy home.

Middas, 9th of Last Seed, 585

Annor and Cirlin have been true friends to this one. They've given him a place to hide, a bed to sleep in. and food to eat. Mostly Bosmer cuisine, of course. Could definitely use a dash of moonsugar, but Xithic will not complain. He's lucky to have anything to eat at all. They've yet to say anything about this one's...condition, but he knows they are curious and have questions. Xithic has answers for them... they deserve that much for their kindness and loyalty alone.

Xithic can feel their eyes on him while he is sleeping--perhaps it is curiosity, or care, or even vigilance. He just hopes he's not a burden, and he hopes they don't fear him. The wolf has not stirred since the fight, and he has not felt the hunger or the urge to hunt in days. He can only assume that the silver blades that nearly killed him had an equal, if not more severe effect on the beast within. But Xithic is no fool--he knows that the beast, like himself, will soon recover. It is only a matter of time. He just hopes he'll have enough warning so he can remove himself far enough away from his friends' home.

These last few days, Xithic has felt well enough to get up and walk around, and has gradually ventured further and further from the house. The deep forest is just so peaceful. There is a calmness and a certain clarity to be found within it--surprising in an environment concealed from view and bustling with activity.

Xithic caught the faint scent of a familiar friend today, and he found the courage to investigate. He reached a small clearing and found Brother Terrance, alone, sitting and writing in a book. This one was quite happy to see him, and Terrance seemed to feel the same way. He quickly healed Xithic's wounds--even the silver ones, though he fears he will carry those scars for the rest of his life. It was almost miraculous. The pain now is nearly gone, and although he still feels a bit of discomfort and a great deal of stiffness around the wounds, it is only a matter of time before he'll be stringing his bow once again.

We talked at length about the past week's happenings--this one's fight with Wren, his slow recovery, the loss of his mate, and his search for a cure. Apparently Theo has been outed as a vampire, and is now being hunted by the town. He is accused of a whole host of terrible acts, many of which this one cannot believe is anything more than the fanciful imagination of fearful and ignorant guards. Is this why he left so suddenly? Is this why he does not want to be found? Who betrayed him? Was it her? [The last word here was rather forcefully underlined.]

Our discussion soon took an even darker turn. Terrance asked him about his relationship with Theo, and this one unthinkingly blurted out the truth--that he is his closest and dearest friend. Terrance seemed bit surprised at hearing that, looking back at it all. This one is not sure why. He figured everyone knew of our friendship by now. It didn't take long for Terrance to reveal his motive behind his question. It's easy for Xithic to forget that despite his cordial relations with this one, Terrance is a zealot of the highest order. He despises 'evil', and vows to wipe out any creature he sees as serving it. Daedra, werewolves, vampires...none will be spared his blade. He knows about Theo, was outraged over the acts Theo is said to have committed, and is desperate to find him. But, he can't... he needs a tracker. And that, he said, is where this one comes in.

He wants Xithic to help him kill his best friend.

Ridiculous, moons know. There is an opportunity here, though. This one is an excellent tracker, but lacks information that could give him a direction to his search for Theo and has few contacts abroad that can help. Terrance, on the other paw, has contacts both in town and abroad but has no one that can track locally, and certainly not one who can track by scent. So the deal was struck--this one would aid Terrance in finding his friend, and Terrance would help Xithic find a cure.

Now, Xithic is not Wren. He would never betray Theo, and would die himself before he would see him come to harm. This one just has to time this right. Use Terrance's contacts to find a lead to Theo, but keep Theo one step ahead of Terrance until he can get this one cured. Then... well, Xithic will worry about that once we get there. He'll just have to play this very carefully...

[There is a break here, the words below seemingly have been added after the author had time to think further.]

Xithic is sorry, Suki... he must dive into the world of deception again for one last time. With any luck, this one will be cured, Theo will be safe, and we can be together again, soon. For you, love. It's all for you.

Loredas, 12th of Last Seed, 585

A happy day. A genuinely happy day. Moons, it's been so long... it's felt like an age has passed since this one could last say he actually felt happy.

Xithic's hunch paid off. He tracked Theo's trail to Velyn Harbor. It's the second time in recent weeks that he has fled the area by sea, so he had to be traveling to somewhere familiar. That brought this one to Anvil, where he found a strong trail heading off toward an abandoned tower to the north.

This one would be lying if he said he wasn't worried. So many thoughts went through his mind as he walked up those last steps. Was he hurt? Were the stories of his crimes true? What about his role in Cimber's death? Did Wren truly poison his mind against Xithic? Would he even talk to this one? But there we were, face to face, and all the concerns faded away like smoke in the wind. He spoke this one's name, we embraced, and it was as if the past month never happened.

He told this one that he was hurt, and kept himself concealed within his plate armor. Moons, he just hopes his friend is all right. If he feels the need to hide his face even from Xithic, then this one fears his wounds truly run deep. Anyway, we talked, we laughed, we caught up on past events. And for a moment--just for a split second--Xithic forgot his troubles.

It was not to last, though. The healing spell that Terrance used to mend this one's wounds didn't just heal. It also planted some sort of magical tracker in him. No idea how it works, but it let him follow this one straight to his friend. Things were tense for a while, and Xithic was fearful that he would have had to kill Terrance. Ah, but he forgot how cunning Theo can be. He may have been injured, but Theo quite easily managed to keep one step ahead of Terrance until the tension was defrayed.

Oh yes--it also seems that young Keys and Theo are closer than this one originally thought. She's a clever one, and has a good head on her shoulders. Xithic just hopes she can get her senche to trust him as easily. Those teeth hurt...

Loredas, 19th of Last Seed, 585

We all had a long talk today--Cirlin, Annor, and Xithic. This one knew it was coming and was welcoming it, though certainly not without a bit of trepidation. He told them everything they asked--how it feels to be who he is, the powerful gifts it bestows, the thrill of the hunt, the hunger and the taste for the flesh of men and mer. To their credit, they didn't try to kill Xithic, or even kick him out. Cirlin almost seemed glad that this one had revealed it all to her. He must admit, it was a bit...cathartic to finally be able to tell someone about all this without having that person turn around a reach for a silver blade.

Apparently, Cirlin had been keeping a secret of her own, as well. She and her mother had a bit of a falling out in her past. Seems that not only did she turn to thieving to support herself, she was quite good at it. This one is happy that she found the courage to tell us, and she seemed quite pleased that neither of us reacted poorly. How could we? Xithic cannot speak for Annor, but this one is hardly innocent enough to hold something like that against her. Who hasn't done questionable things in their past? Khajiit transforms into a terrible beast and kills people for food. Picking pockets and lifting shiny trinkets doesn't really compare. Besides, we're friends. It will take far more than that to cause him to break his bond.

Annor, from what this one could tell, was no more upset by the news than Xithic was. The way he looked at Cirlin--it reminded him of the way Suki would look at Xithic when he talked about his... secret. By Jode and Jone, he misses her so. How long has it been? One month? Two? Three? Too long, in any case. Too long spent silently pining away in a cold bed within a full house. Annor and Cirlin opened their house to this one, but Xithic knows the longer he stays, the more of a burden he will become. They are a young couple, and deserve their privacy. And Suki--moons, how long will she wait? What if he loses her after all of this? He just hopes Ty gave her his message. If she didn't...

No, he can't wait any longer. This week, he'll start looking for a victim.

Morndas, 28th of Last Seed, 585

This one got lucky last night. He paid a visit to the shrine, unarmed. It was risky--ferals prowl the forest around it, and the cultists there tend to hunt down any curious adventurers in the hopes of proving to the Hungry Cat that they deserve his favor. Finding a disguise was easy enough. These cultists are so eager to prove themselves, but they're in well over their head. It was so very easy to separate one from their group. Lure a straggler to a secluded patch of forest, slice a claw across their throat, and that's it--one slightly-bloodied set of robes. The ferals will take care of the body, and no one will be the wiser.

Xithic must be honest, for a brief moment, he did not know if he could do it. Would the Prince of Hunters take offense? Would he punish the Khajiit who spilled the blood of his devotees? This one knows now, though, that he will not. The Hungry Cat cares not for the safety of his children. If this one survives, it is because of his strength. If he dies, it would be because of his weakness, and nothing offends Hircine more than weakness.

He slipped into the cultist gathering unnoticed, and participated in a series of rather extravagant and laughable rituals. Moons, one of them offered up what looked to him like a slab of meat freshly cut at the local butcher shop. "Prey" indeed. These are nothing more than cubs playing dangerous games with something they barely comprehend. But they will serve this one's purpose. He found a potential target--a young woman, one of the more fervent participants and completely blinded by her zeal. We spoke briefly, mostly just introductions, some small talk, and a rather lengthy strand of inane babbling about the glories of the Master of the Hunt. She seems sincere in her beliefs, if a bit misguided. She noticed the blood on Xithic's robes quite early. The cultist was most impressed--she said this one must be a mighty hunter to proudly display the blood of his prey so openly. This one just laughed.

Xithic didn't reveal himself to her. Not yet, it's too early. But time is running out. This one can't explain why he feels that way, but he does. There's another gathering at the shrine in the next few days. Perhaps he'll find out if this cultist is the one.

Turdas, 31st of Last Seed, 585

Moons, this just might work.

The cultists gathered once again at the shrine on Middas evening. It didn't take long for Xithic to find his target, and took just as quickly to draw her away from the group. This one thinks she might have a thing for Khajiit--he keeps catching her staring at his tail--but if anything that should make things even easier. So, Xithic took her to a secluded area well away from the others and started to spin his story. This one told her that Hircine had taken notice of her zeal and devotion--that he knows the troubles she had overcome, foresaw great things in her future, and found her worthy of a great honor. She is to become the Hungry Cat's champion, and that Xithic was sent by the Lord of Hunters to prepare and test her. Moons, just writing this out is enough to make this one laugh at the sheer absurdity of the story, but she bought it. Every last word. Well, perhaps she was a bit wary at first, but a deep growl and a pair of glowing eyes was all it took to free her of her doubts. She spent the rest of the night either trying to worship this one, singing Hircine's praises, or asking the most ridiculous questions about the Master of the Hunt. Eventually, he had to insist on parting, and swore her to secrecy. Xithic has no doubt it worked--never underestimate the effectiveness of simply telling people what they want to hear.

[There is a light line drawn here, breaking the text into two sections. The following section likely must have been completed later in the evening.]

Coin is hard to come by these days. The hunting is still good--it's the selling that proves to be a problem. This one has avoided returning to do business with his usual buyers, lest he be discovered by those still looking to take his head. Xithic hardly ever ventures to the cities in Malabal Tor now, and when he does, he spends most of his time looking over his shoulder. It's just like it was in the beginning--wandering the wilderness in fear of his life. Has he truly come full circle?

This beast--this affliction--is not the gift Xithic once thought it to be. He can see farther than any normal man, but identifying far off objects is useless when he knows that that anyone he sees already wishes him dead. This one can hear clearer than any mer, but all that seems to do is keep him up late at night. And, truly, a wolf's sense of smell is hardly a boon when one is constantly surrounded by rotmeth and fried beetle sprinkles. Yes, it has given him his livelihood, but plentiful prey does this one no good if he cannot sell the harvest.

No, this curse now only takes. It has already taken his home and many of his friends. Will it take his life next? Or his love? No, Xithic will not let it. He is committed now to see this through to the end, and it is that thought that led him to risk detection by travelling to the Baandari Outpost one last time.

It took every last bit of coin that this one had to do it, including a fair bit of less-than-legal pilfering. But, he finally scrounged up enough coin for a short visit to the companion house. He has to laugh--Xithic is probably the only person in all of history that paid for time in the companion house just to talk. She was there, of course, expecting the arrival of another new client. This one doesn't remember exactly what he said, but he remembers the embrace--the feeling of her arms around him, burying her head into his chest. It is fitting, yes? That his last thought of his mate be not of words, but of a touch? If this doesn't work... if the ritual fails and Xithic meets his end, at least he can die with that pleasant thought.

It's almost time, now. This one will need to find Terrance to finalize the details.

Tirdas, 15th of Morning Star, 587

It's been what... a year? More? All this time, this journal sat locked away in a trunk. Xithic had nearly forgotten about it, were he honest, but came across it cleaning one night and...

Where does he start? So much has happened--so much that, were he to write it here, would be barely believable even to his own eyes. Does he talk of how he was cured? The pain he endured to do it? How his mate of many months left him without so much as a good bye? The agony of knowing one had irreversibly changed his entire life, at great cost to himself, for one who no longer cares?

Happier thoughts, then. A new mate? A new home? A new job? Of all those things, the job is what continually surprises him. A guard! Can you believe it? Never in a thousand moons would he have thought he would ever join their ranks, and yet here he is, all shiny armor and stoic grunts. Granted, it was more a act of desperation--hunting puts food on the table but little else when everyone else is doing the same--but the steady income is actually quite nice.

The scariest part is... he actually is starting to like it. It's really not too different than hunting. It's far less about being an intimidating brute than it is stalking and preparing. We follow tracks and gather information from our surroundings--except instead of broken reeds and game trails, it's witness statements and bloodstained paths. Putting clues together to lead him to a criminal is not far removed from putting clues together to find prey. He's actually quite good at it, if he dares boast for a bit.

Perhaps the priests are right. One never does know where the moons will light one's path next.