Belonging

"I'm glad I avoided that arrow to the knee." Ulfgar chuckled, as he took another swig of mead.

The other Nords shook their heads at his story, leaning closer to the fire to ward off the cold. The snow fell around them in heavy, wet flakes and every few moments they had to brush off their fur cloaks to keep it from accumulating too much. Darkness had long since fallen, and while they were supposed to be on guard duty none of them were paying any attention to the forest surrounding them - it would be madness for their adversaries to march an army through this storm.

Damn this cold. Reeves thought to himself as Ulfgar launched into another drunken tale. I am as much a true son of Skyrim as any of these other men, but this cold is too much. Why couldn't I be posted to Whiterun's camp? At least I'd be warmer there.

The moment he turned 18, Reeves had joined the Stormcloak rebellion against the Empire. As an orphan with no money or inheritance of his own, he saw it as a faster path to fame and fortune than trying his hand at farming or guard duty. Besides, despite their bluster the Stormcloaks had some decent ideas. They taught him that non-Nords were cruel and greedy, and that forcing them out of Skyrim would mean there would be more resources and more opportunities for young men like him. He hadn't actually met many of the other races of Skyrim, but his few interactions with them only served to confirm the propaganda.

Most importantly, Nords must never have sex with or breed non-Nords. Doing so would dilute their race into half-breeds, making them all weaker for it. Skyrim must stay within the control of pureblooded Nords, now and forever.

As if he could hear Reeves' thoughts, Ulfgar stood and raised his mug. "Skyrim is for the Nords!"

Suddenly, a roar came from the trees. The Nords scrambled for their weapons, their movements sluggish and awkward. By contrast, a mass of white fur and muscle burst from the nearest copse of trees towards the men, slamming Ulfgar into the ground and killing him instantly.

A frost troll. Reeves thought, his blood running cold.

The troll roared again, breaking Reeves out of his stupor. The beast's pure black eyes darted around the encampment as it found its next target, charging towards him. Its long teeth and claws were bared, and its powerful muscles helped it charge through the snow with ease. In seconds it had torn apart a second man, his red blood spraying across its white skin.

Standing, Reeves sprinted towards his tent where he'd left his bow. Behind him he could hear the other men break out into battle cries, hacking away at the troll with their heavy weapons. The troll roared a second time - the sound of which was followed by a sickeningly wet crunch. His footsteps through the deep snow seemed to take forever, but he pushed onwards.

Even though his tent was only 30 meters from the fire pit, by the time he reached it the sounds of battle had turned to panicked screams. Finding his bow he turned just in time to see a second frost troll emerge from the trees and join the fray, catching one of the Nords by surprise and grabbing his body from behind, breaking his back over its knee. Reeves cursed as he knelt in the snow, looking for the quiver of arrows that he'd left nearby. His shaking hands plunged over and over through the snow, trying to find it as his eyes darted between the battle in front of him and the ground beneath him.

The realization that this was a lost cause quickly dawned on him. As a group, they'd be hard-pressed to kill a frost troll under the best of conditions. Against two of them, where they had the element of surprise? It was a wonder he wasn't dead already.

To hell with this. Reeves thought to himself, standing as he watched the last two men make their stand against the trolls.

Without another thought, he dropped his bow and fled as fast as his feet would take him. Steam began to roll off his body into the cold winter night as he sprinted - a body which was powered by nothing more than adrenaline and pure terror. He zigged and zagged through the forest, desperately trying to throw any would-be pursuers off his trail. He quickly lost track of how far he'd run, what direction he'd taken, or how long he was running for. Finally, when his legs couldn't take anymore he collapsed face first into the snow, breathing heavily as he did.

Slowly, as his lungs stopped burning he rolled over and groaned into the night. With considerable effort he sat up - if only to avoid being buried by the still-falling snow. He wanted nothing more than to lie down here and go to sleep, but he knew that giving in at this point would mean his certain death - exposure to the elements would kill him just as surely as the trolls would.

With a deeply weary groan he pulled himself to his feet. Glancing around, he realized the footsteps leading back to his camp had been filled in with fresh snow as he laid there and recovered. He knew there was a road near the camp, and he knew generally what direction he'd come from, but without a map or any visible landmarks around him he knew he was lost. He started back in that direction with a deepening pit of worry in his stomach.

For what felt like an eternity, Reeves wandered the forest. The pit of worry eventually became outright despair as his entire body began to shiver. He pushed forward, feeling his limbs becoming steadily more numb from a mix of exhaustion and the cold. The edges of his vision began to gray, but he stubbornly walked on in the direction he thought the camp, the road, and his salvation was.

His body gave out before his spirit did. Tripping over a snow-covered rock that he didn't see, Reeves fell face down into the snow. He tried to command his arms to push him back up, but they refused to budge. Instead, a low moan emanated from his mouth. Realizing this may be the end, he bitterly fought to keep his eyes open until they eventually froze shut.

___

Reeves awoke with a start. His eyes shot open, and he saw the walls of a tent. Around him the wind howled, but he was surprisingly warm. Looking down, he saw that he was naked and covered in several fur skins - most of which looked to be either bear or caribou. With great effort, he tried to push himself to his elbows but quickly fell back down - his body was too weak.

The tent flap opened, and a hooded stranger stepped inside before quickly closing it behind them. They were wearing some sort of leather armor which had been adorned with fur for warmth, but carried no visible weapons. They turned to Reeves, and seeing that he was awake they pulled back their snow-covered hood.

The stranger was a feline woman. Her face was covered in gray fur, and atop her head were a pair of catlike ears which twitched back and forth. Her brilliantly blue eyes locked onto his and her muzzle broke into a wide grin at the sight of him, revealing a set of sharp teeth. She began to brush the snow off her as she spoke to him in an exotic-sounding, gravelly voice.

"I imagine this must be quite a surprise for you." She said.

"Where...am I?" He replied, straining to get out the words.

"You are safe. You are in my tent."

"Who are you?" He questioned.

"My name is Atahira. What is your name?"

"Reeves." He said weakly before collapsing back down onto the straw pillow. The effort from talking had been more draining than he thought, and he was now feeling the effects.

She was at his side in a moment. "Shh." She said, taking off her glove and running her soft, fur-covered hand across his face. "Rest now. I promise to answer all your questions later."

He nodded in reply. Slowly, she began to unbuckle her armor and stack it neatly into a pile behind her. Next came the undershirt, then finally her undergarments. His eyebrows shot up as he looked her up and down, taking in her body.

She was, in a word, beautiful. Her gray fur covered most of her body except for the area between her collarbone and her thighs, where it tapered off to smooth pink skin. She had muscular arms and legs, but still possessed a healthy amount of fat around her midsection. Her wide pair of hips and large breasts served to give her the kind of hourglass frame that Reeves would fantasize about.

His eyes went wide as she pulled back the blanket and climbed into the bed with him. She draped one arm and one leg over him, placing her head on his chest and nuzzling. Her fur was soft and comforting, and the heat from her body warmed and soothed his cold, sore body. His shock quickly turned to anger - he was a Stormcloak. He couldn't be cuddling naked with a Kajit. A true Nord man would only lay with a Nord woman, after all.

"What.. are...you doing?" He managed to croak out.

"Saving your life." She replied, pulling one of his arms around her so that she could get closer. "Your body lost too much heat. We kajit keep each other warm like this."

Reeves tried to argue that she could use a potion, but couldn't find the strength. To his horror, he began to get hard from the stimulation. He distantly heard her giggle as she felt it, but other than that made no acknowledgement. Her tail snaked around his ankle, holding him tightly but comfortably. I'll allow her to keep me warm, just this once. When I wake up, I'll find other ways to heal.

He quickly gave into her warm purring snuggles, and drifted into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

___

When Reeves woke up again, Atahira had already dressed and was sitting cross-legged next to him. The wind was still blowing heavily outside, but he could see sunlight peeking through the heavy tent flap. His eyes slowly focused on the Kajit woman and he cleared his throat to let her know he was awake.

"Oh good!" She said, setting down the book she was reading.

Reaching behind her, she pulled out a waterskin and uncorked it. The liquid inside sloshed, and Reeves' eyes narrowed with suspicion. She grinned in response, shaking her head. "Now, if I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have done it in your sleep? It's just water, I promise."

To prove her point, she took a long sip and gulped it down in an exaggerated motion. Satisfied, he nodded to her and she held it to his lips, tipping it slightly to allow him to drink. She fed him the remainder in small gulps, allowing him time in between to swallow. When they had finished it, she tilted it back and recorked it.

"There. Now are you feeling better?"

"Yes." He replied, wiping his lips with his hand.

He flexed his arms and sat up slowly, feeling that most of the aching cold had disappeared from his body. Rolling his head in a slow circle, he looked at her and struggled to find the right words to say. She was content to watch him, her eyes never leaving his muscular frame. He belatedly realized he was indebted to her.

"Thank you." He finally said. "You saved my life."

"Yes, I did." She replied proudly. "It took a not-insignificant number of healing spells, but you will make a full recovery."

A look of disgust flashed across his face. As a Nord, he disliked magic. It was something the hated elves used during the war between the Empire and the Thalmor. In that moment, it just served to remind him that he'd been saved by a Kajit - someone who was an outsider to his lands.

Someone who he'd been fighting to drive out of Skyrim. He thought to himself.

"Are you feeling alright?" Atahira asked him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Yes." He replied quickly. "How long was I out?"

"2 days. At least, it's been 2 days since we found you. I don't know how long you were face down in that snowdrift."

"How did you find me?"

"Our caravan had stopped here to ride out the storm. We didn't want to risk the mountain pass in this weather. Some of the others were sent out to gather firewood, and one of them nearly tripped over you. Once they realized you were still alive, they brought you to me and I healed you."

"Why did you do it?"

"Well, I'm the only one in this caravan who can heal anyone worth a damn, so it's not like there were many other options." She said, a grin breaking out across her feline muzzle.

"No, why...did you bother saving me?" He asked, not knowing how to phrase it. "I have no money, nothing to repay you with."

"...Because you needed help?" She answered hesitantly. "Do Nords not help those in need?"

"We do, just...most non-Nords would sooner kill a Stormcloak than help them. Many Nords would too, if they've sided with the Empire."

"How very fortunate you were found by us then." She said, shaking her head. "You are a strange people. I'll be glad once we leave this land and be back amongst our own kind."

He tried to find a retort, but couldn't. To see such pure altruism in a race of people who he was actively fighting to push out of Skyrim was especially jarring. It called into question everything he'd been taught about the other races.

"What happened to you, by the way?" Atahira asked. "How did you come to be face down in a snowdrift?"

"My scouting encampment was attacked." He said. "Two frost trolls emerged from the woods, and killed everyone else. I couldn't find the arrows for my bow, so I ran into the forest. The snow from the storm covered my footsteps, and I lost my way. I wandered until I collapsed."

"That's terrible!" She said, running her furred hand along his bare shoulder sympathetically. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"You are?" He asked. "Even if they were Stormcloaks, like me?"

"Of course. Your rebellion may have tried to push races like me out of Skyrim, but... a loss of life is still a loss, no matter who they were. I truly am sorry for your loss, Reeves."

He stared at her a moment longer. She seemed truly sincere in her apology, and her large blue eyes stayed locked on his. Slowly, he sank back down onto the bed and she laid next to him as she continued to run her hand over his bare skin. "If you wish to return to Windhelm, I'd recommend you wait until the storm lets up. Your body is still recovering, and you'd likely get lost again anyways."

Reeves nodded. There was wisdom to her words, and he turned to look at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were interrupted by the loud growling of his stomach which caused them both to laugh. He blushed and she smiled. "Come on. Let's get you some clothes and some food. I'll introduce you around."

___

Over the next several days, Reeves' strength slowly returned. The first few times he left the tent he had to lean on Atahira for support, his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. Gradually he discovered he no longer needed the help, but she insisted that she continue to stay close to him 'just in case'. She gave the same excuse for sleeping next to him every night as well, claiming that he 'still hadn't fully recovered' as she stripped the two of them naked and covered his pale skin with her warm fur.

On the morning of the fourth day, Reeves woke up before Atahira for the first time. He carefully extracted himself from the bed in their shared tent, taking great care not to wake her. Pulling on his clothes, he walked to the communal fire and retrieved two bowls of porridge for breakfast, speaking with several of the other members of the camp before bringing them back to her and waking her with a gentle nudge.

Her eyes went wide as she awoke to the sight of him standing over her with food. "Thank you." She said with a sleepy smile, taking it gratefully.

The two of them ate in companionable silence for several long minutes. "The storm looks like it's cleared." He said finally.

"Oh?" She replied, her ears and tail twitching slightly.

"It looks like it's moved over the mountain pass. Your friends told me they'd probably be here for several more days before they can travel across. Still, it looks like the storm is moving away from Windhelm - and I feel well enough to make the journey."

She put down her bowl and knelt on the bed, the fur blankets falling to the ground around her and revealing her body in all her naked glory. "Are you...sure you have to leave?"

Reeves couldn't help but get hard at the sight. It'd been several long days since he'd had any relief, and the feeling of a sexy catgirl sleeping next to him hadn't exactly helped matters. Thoughts of the two of them intertwined in hot nights of passion had begun to invade his dreams, torturing and teasing him in exquisitely pleasurable ways.

The scariest part was that he wasn't sure if he wanted the dreams to stop...or if he wanted them to become a reality.

"I have to." He said finally, shaking his head sadly. "I made an oath, and I am duty-bound to keep it."

She locked eyes with him. "Reeves, I... may have deceived you slightly, and I would never forgive myself if I didn't tell you. After the first night, I no longer needed to sleep with you to keep you warm."

"I know." He said, nodding and moving closer.

"I've never been attracted to Kajit men, much to my clan's dismay. I much prefer those with pale, smooth skin so I can gaze upon their muscles. I slept next to you because...well, I'm quite attracted to you Reeves."

She took his bowl from his hands, and placed it on the ground in the tent. Then, leaning forward, she ran one furred hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Her other hand grasped his hip, and her tail coiled around his leg as her muzzle neared his lips. Her shining blue eyes were only inches from his.

As if some unseen force signaled the both of them, their lips passionately met in between them. Reeves' hands traveled up and down her naked back, with one hand coming to rest on her soft, pliable ass while the other held her closely across her shoulders. They moaned into their kiss as their tongues met, dancing together for the first time. Her taste was spicy and exotic, and Reeves couldn't get enough.

After several long minutes the couple broke apart, gasping for air. She embraced him tightly, pressing her warm body against him. "I know you took an oath, and you have to leave. But I'd never forgive myself if I never showed you how I felt."

Unable to find the right words, Reeves just nodded and stroked the back of her head. She sobbed slightly for a few minutes, then let go and nodded. "Go. I know you need to. Just...promise me you won't forget me."

"Never." He said.

Knowing that if he stayed any longer he'd never leave, he turned around and pushed back the tent flap before stepping back outside. With the storm cleared, he was quickly able to locate the Throat of the World mountain and oriented himself towards the direction he knew Windhelm to be. Placing one foot in front of the other, he began his journey.

After a few hours of walking he located a small village. There, he was able to trade his Stormcloak armor in exchange for a fast horse, deciding that his commanders would forgive him for prioritizing speed. As he rode, his mind continued to wander back to Atahira, her body, and their kiss.

What if what the Stormcloaks taught me was wrong? He thought as he rode. What if there are good people in the non-Nord races? What if... Atahira and I could be together?

Only days ago, he would have banished the thought as unfathomable blasphemy. Now though, after experiencing the kindness of a Kajit woman first hand, he was beginning to question that wisdom.

I'll speak to the chaplain. He resolved as he glanced upwards at the imposing sight of Windhelm. They will help me with these thoughts.

As he drew nearer to the city, he quickly saw that something was wrong. There were large columns of smoke rising from the palace, and he saw columns of imperial troops guarding the bridge to the city as well as marching around the docks.

Dismounting, he led his horse up to the bridge. He knew that without his armor the soldiers wouldn't recognize him as a Stormcloak, but he couldn't help but tense as he approached them.