The strands of sunlight that filtered through the cloudy skies shown upon the frosted fields of Whiterun hold. On this day, the second day of First Seed and year one ninety-nine of the fourth era, the frost shone like glimmering stars that had fallen from the skies. The sun was dipping behind Skyrim's mountains, casting a orange and pink hue over Tamriel. In Whiterun stands a wondrous tree at the feet of the castle of Dragonsreach, one that is revered by the holy men and women who reside in the temple it shares a space with.

It is in this house of faith where a particular young elf and her mentor has spent numerous hours in the study of conjuration; where the magic comes from, how it is harnessed, and the dangers inherent in its practice. The summoning of familiars was a tradition among the priests and priestesses of Kyne the Nordic patron of the hunt, as the animal spirits would act as their guardians. These holy men and women took a more combative perspective of Wylendriel's lady, Kynareth, but their origins were derived from the same concept: she was the most powerful of the wind spirits. This was common ground they could find where there was enough to elicit understanding on both ends.

Regardless of the differences in their faiths, her mentor, Jadis Starhearth, an older nord woman with salt and pepper hair, was very knowledgeable in both magic and the divines. In that respect, she was very careful in treading the line where her faith would collide with hers, but keen on preaching what she felt she knew to be the truth. She stood a few paces beside Wy with her hands held behind her.

"...as such, the summoning of your familiar draws from a different energy than the entities in classical conjuration spells. This school of magic generally draws upon daedric power from one of the realms of Oblivion. Channeling magic through both incantation and binding runes usually ensures a safe conjuration - but is never promised. Your familiar is the summoning of an animal spirit you are familiar with after you have built a connection with them."

"There's an important distinction to be made however," Wy's mentor continued, "and that is to understand that not all daedra are the same. The difference between aedra and daedra is that the daedra chose not to give their power in creating the world, but that alone is reason enough to approach them cautiously... for their decision was made in opposition of your existence in the first place. It is that same decision that gives them more presence on Nirn than the Nine. In order to banish summoned daedra, you must sever the magic that binds them to Nirn and the summoner. But first, you must learn how that binding works."

Wy nodded and closed her eyes. Session after session, they have gone through this. Building a relationship with animal spirits was a complicated task, for it was one of those things where you needed experience to summon one, but need to summon one for experience. To find a spirit required a spirit of your own which was compatible with the animal in question. It was for this reason that what few nord conjurers existed usually conjured wolves, since ingrained in their culture was a fierce sense of loyalty and honor (and quite often enjoying the carnal aspects of life). Rare exceptions among them could call upon hawks, elks, and even bears.

She had to picture an image in her mind of the spirit she sought to conjure forth: a doe. Feel the energies around her and communicate with the spirits, connect - she struggled. She strained her body to squeeze out what magicka she could, but the magicka went nowhere. With a sharp breath, she relaxed her body and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.

"Again, Wylendriel?" Jadis asked, sounding surprised. "Strange. You're such a focused study."

"I don't know why this is so hard for me! Back home, we hold such reverence for nature and her spirits." Wylendriel bemoaned.

Her mentor smiled at her, though solemn it seemed, and she sat beside the bosmer girl and rested an arm around her shoulder. "Still thinking of home?" She asked.

"How can I not?" Wy replied.

"You torment yourself with your own thoughts. Little wonder, how can the spirits trust you if you do not trust in yourself?"

"But what if I never left?" Wylendriel argued, her voice escalating to a panicked tone. "I could've stayed and helped my people more than I would've by abandoning them."

Jadis looked slightly disappointed and began her incoming lecture with a huff. "You waste the time the Divines have given you by dawdling on the past. We can only move forward. Remember, it's natural to doubt yourself - but don't ever second guess what you know is moral."

Wy took deep breaths with closed eyes while she took in her mentor's wisdom. Part of her debated it - what if, despite her intentions, she made the wrong choice. But like Jadis said, there was no changing what happened. She was left with the question: was resisting the Dominion on behalf of her people, some of whom who were suffering by their hands, a moral decision? The question answered itself.

"So," Jadis continued, "what kind of spirit did you try reaching out to?"

"A doe," she answered.

"A doe?" She parroted incredulously. Jadis knew that the temple's newest initiate had earned the reputation in Whiterun for being doe-like. The smallest thing in a town full of mountain sized nords, wary and cautious in a new land and ever on the look-out for the Thalmor, all while exuding an aura of innocence... the kind of reputation she has obtained must have gotten to her head. Jadis has seen first hand what her spirit was really like. Wylendriel shrugged awkwardly, prompting her mentor to sigh. "And why do you think that?" She asked.

"I... don't know." Wy replied. Her answer caused Jadis's wrinkles to furrow, and her express became stern.

"I think it's time that you've spent some time in meditation." She finally said.

"Meditation? But I usually--"

"Not like this you haven't." Jadis said. "You've become disconnected from nature. I want you to stay outdoors for up to a week. No contact with civilization." Wylendriel's eyes went wide with surprise, but said nothing, allowing her mentor to continue. "Once you discover what you've been looking for, or until the allotted time is up, you may return. I trust that you, as a bosmer, will be self-sufficient enough to handle this?"

"Y-yes... of course." Wy muttered, staring at the ground, trying to understand Jadis' decision. Spending time outside the walls didn't bother her. She wasn't afraid of nature - she'd take towards the south to be among the woods in which she could easily traverse and be outside saber cat territory. The question was why. Why did she want her to do this? What was she planning?

The two bid their farewells to each other that evening, and what remained of that night was to be devoted to rest so that she may prepare for the following day... but sleep did not come easily to Wy that night. She tossed and turned, and sometimes layed totally still - but that air was as still as she was, the night quiet from the chill air which warded insects back into their burrows. A nearly maddening silence that provided no relief by means of white noise to distract her from her own thoughts and reflection upon the day.

Today in particular was a gross reminder of failure, inadequacy, and insecurity. Still hunted and reviled by the Thalmor, no conjuration has been yet mastered, and each passing day leaves her longer away from home than ever before. She was an outsider here who didn't quite belong, neither her nor there - which leaves her to wonder about her mentor's feelings. She has committed to teaching her all about the Divines, but there are times like these where she'd send her away. What was she planning? Was there even a plan? And what can she expect from the trials ahead?

The time between brief periods of shut eye was spent on prayer and meditation so that she could find answers to her questions. Sometimes, sprawled out on the floor, she'd write letters that will never be sent. They were on sometimes on these peculiar sheets of parchment made from thin layer over thin layer of peeled goat skin, traded from the local butcher and pressed, and then dried into a single sheet. The burnt end of a bird quill was her pen, and a small candle her ink jar. Each pen stroke done gently, singing and staining with black ash, and in the Bosmeri language of her people.

"To my dear friends and family - to all the cherished people of my homeland - to the entire breadth of Valenwood;

Traveling the world has both costs and merits. While on one hand, the experience has broadened my perspective far beyond the horizons I thought to have known. In this, I am blessed with the opportunity to learn from the multitudes of people I have crossed paths with along my journey, and even now in Skyrim, my eyes have opened wide enough to see a world I was previously blind to - to this I thank a most wise and gracious elder by whom I'm being mentored.

But at the same time, I feel home-sick. I live in a land so different from my beloved home where everything I think I know feels wrong, as if I feel my head falling towards the sky, but lose my footing upon the ground. In the most disorienting of fashions, my identity struggles to resist becoming unraveled. I fear this culture-shock will be my undoing if I cannot find familiarity in the frozen north. Not all is lost, though. I find comfort in knowing that by the end, we all become one with the Earth Bones and I will find my way home to Y'ffre. Kynareth's guidance provided, I will find the Storyteller having lived a fulfilled life.

The Thalmor has not found me yet, and I swear upon the green, that neither they nor any mortal force upon Nirn will bring me to heel. Do not worry for me. No matter my outcome, the cycle will live on and I will see you again when we become one. With any luck, we’ll have our reunion before then.

Your own, Wylendriel Greensky."

Practice of such correspondence, even unsent, at least reminded her that there was a place in which she could belong. She folded the paper - if one could call it that - into a small square and stuck it into a side pocket of her satchel that sat upon the floor beside her. It somewhat renewed her resolve, and with that, she finally turned herself into bed that night and let the chill air lull her to sleep beneath her warm fur covers.

Dawn followed after dusk in what felt like no time, and with only brief periods of sleep throughout the night to ready herself, she awoke that morning feeling vastly unprepared. She felt beaten and exhausted, and every shred of light felt like burning needles sticking into her eyes. Despite how she felt, however, she knew that it would be best to leave before her mentor awoke. She took a moment to compose herself - taking deep, slow breaths and a brief prayer to Kynareth in order to thank her for the breath she has taken, and went to work.

Quickly constructing a bindle to fill in simple necessities and rations, such as aged cheeses, cured meats, a couple of salt blocks, and a water skin. She felt it would betray the experience of the challenge if she brought her satchel that was full of most of what she'll ever need. She headed straight out the door to meet the blue-pink skies of today's dawn and hurried down the steps towards the market level before following the street that led her to the gates. The pitter-patter of her feet along the masonry did nothing to disturb the city's quiet slumber.

From there on, she followed the road eastbound past the local farmland, so that within minutes she can take the south road that would eventually take her up the misty mountains. She took in the refreshing smell of pine and fresh rain that had a mint-like coolness that barely stung her airways, and it felt almost homey. Out here, she can avoid some of the most dangerous of Skyrim's fauna. For instance, giant territory were often on large expanses of land - it was difficult for them to navigate the forests. Most especially saber cats, which preferred lurking in the tall grasslands, and their fur kept them warm in the tundra, so that their powerful legs can jump over snow banks. Out here, the easily distinguishable color of their fur would make them easy to spot among the evergreens, and the elks could take off at an impressive pace long before the cat could close enough to stalk them.

The most she had to worry about out in the southern stretch of Whiterun Hold were wolves. A clumsy lot, truth be told, and Wy was confident she could stay at least a step or two ahead of them. They weren't like hoarvor or stranglers, which relied on subterfuge to get the drop on their prey, they were flat-footed noisy things. So when she climbed up the trail and found old tracks of, say, three dogs or something similar, she wasn't worried. Still, this early in the morning when all the bugs and birds start making all of their racket, the wolves may be waking on empty stomachs, which meant that she might want to perch herself in the trees for a little more rest soon.

Gods, the rest she could have! Only hours ago had she awoken from one of the worst nights of bed rest thus far, and it would do her well to catch up on some shut eye. Even so, all this time she still had her mind on her purpose for being out here in the first place. This was post-failure in her conjuration practice, and Jadis wanted her to find something out here. Find a compatible spirit, perhaps? It seemed all so contrived - the bosmer people had a profound connection with nature and it's creatures, so it wasn't like she misunderstood the nature of these creatures. With each little critter that scurried past, she kept a trained eye on - but nothing clicked.

Her stomach growled and an ache shot through her gut. She should probably find something to eat out here before she rested while she has the chance. Not wanting to waste her rations so soon in her adventure, she did some searching. The Green Pact forbade destroying or consuming vegetation in the wilds of Valenwood, but… the mere idea of taking the berries off a nearby bush, even if it was in Skyrim, just seemed so wrong and disgusting to her. Instead, she thought she could instead find a small treat to hold her over - and she knew exactly what to look for.

She had to find a tree with high branches near a flowering field. A flowering field required sunlight, so it had to be in less dense part of the wood… closer to the river, further eastward and down from the mountain, and that wasn’t very far. It took only a few minutes of navigating the rocky terrain until Wylendriel found one such tree, and high enough in its branches hung a beehive, but not so high that it would be buffeted by the cold winds. This early in the morning, as chilly as it was, the hive was mostly inactive while the bees inside kept warm. She lifted a long fallen stick from the ground to carry on her robe, and began climbing a nearby tree with lower branches.

The elf nimbly climbed higher and higher with each branch; swinging with grace and using her weight to throw herself up to the next level, and fearlessly bounding from one side to the other like she has been all of her life. By the time she was fifteen feet off the ground, she moved onto a branch thicker towards the trunk and aimed at the tree that had the beehive in its branches. From the branch of the first tree, Wy leaped and caught the branch of the second in her hands. She let herself hang for a moment as a big smile stretched over her face - relishing in the moment of what it felt like to be at home again - before she swung her feet to wrap herself around the branch and finally crawled around until she was back upright with her back pressing against the trunk. With a stick in hand, she leaned over and slowly inserted it through the main entrance point of the hive. She felt the writhing swarm inside through the stick, but with as cold as it was outside, they remained quiet and dormant.

She pulled the stick out with care and covered with honey - the bees on it, exposed to the air, quickly crawled back inside the hive for warmth, just like how Wy inched closer back towards the trunk and - at last - leaned back comfortably, licking away at the sweet, raw honey. It was made from… mountain flowers. A hint of lavender. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, transferring the honey to her mouth using her finger, taking this moment to relax and let the sun’s rays warm her body. The faint sound of a wolf’s howl echoed in the distance, confirming Wy’s concerns, but as high up as she was, she wasn’t concerned about them.

When her fill of the honey that coated the stick was met, she tossed it to the ground and used her waterskin to wash her face and hands of the sticky mess so that the hive wouldn’t smell the honey on her when they became active. She hopped a few more branches until she found two that made a narrow v-shape and nestled herself between them. Closing her eyes once more, she finally allowed herself a moment of rest while she thought about the road ahead. There were few minutes to spare in the time allotted to her, so she had to figure out the challenge Jadis issued. What was her familiar? What spirit was she compatible with? Unlike last night, she drifted off to sleep in very little time.

This sleep would only last a couple of hours. Still, in spite of that, it was a couple of hours of needed rest.

When she later found herself joining the waking world once more, it was when the midday sun was beating on her face through the thicket of leaves. It wasn’t the most pleasant of ways to be awoken, for sure, and she groggily reached for the waterskin at her side while shielding her face from the sun. Taking a quick swig to hydrate her parched mouth, she looked around at the forest floor just as quickly to take a quick assessment of her surroundings. It was quiet. The bees were investigating the stick Wylendriel had tossed before she took her nap, apparently collecting what they could to return to their hive. Judging from the lack of pain on her body, she must’ve cleaned up well enough to avoid inciting their wrath. Just as she started budging, she heard a rustle in the grass below - Wy stopped. Looking down again, this time she saw something she did not before. The shape of a dog resting in the shade, staring at her with hungry yellow eyes. One of the wolves. It must’ve saw her up in the trees and decided to wait for her to come down. Strange… strange and clever. Especially considering how Wylendriel’s robes should’ve provided her with some camouflage - but still strange.

'I would’ve suspected this behavior from saber cats. I guess he’s having a hard time finding food.'

It was looking as though she had to stay up in this tree longer than she thought. It was doubtful there was a single, lone wolf out here. There had to have been others lurking about, or at least within earshot. Her eyes locked onto the wolf below and narrowed. It must have known she had saw it by now. Even with her people’s affinity, she doubted she could pacify it. Sociability didn’t take precedence in a creature’s instincts before hunger. The smartest move would be to wait it out.

In the meantime, Wylendriel watched the natural world pass her by. The sun had shifted in the sky by about forty-five degrees, so about an hour and a half must have passed since then. Her eyes were no longer trained on the wolf that still waited impatiently at the base of the tree, pacing around and occasionally fixing its eyes on something in the far off bushes - likely others of its pack - but instead on other life, keenly studying them. Wondrous things could be discovered if one just stopped and looked. At the top of a nearby tree was an eagle’s nest. The mother wasn’t home, but her chicks waited patiently for their food to be delivered to them. One of them was flapping their little wings over and over without getting anywhere, jumping up and down, it's little wings wasn't quite strong enough for its fat body.

Then a gust of wind picked up, cutting through the air, and curling underneath the eagle chick’s wings. It was carried out of the nest and started falling - the chick flapped its wings like crazy, but all it did was slow its fall to the ground. Her heart began to ache - it was surely a death sentence for the poor thing. It landed on a soft pile of grass, and the sudden rustling and all the crying it made captured the wolf’s attention. It's eyes were now fixed on the helpless bird, which was the size of a small cat. Plenty big enough to satisfy its appetite. Wylendriel felt her heart ache for the poor thing… but it would betray Y’ffre’s lessons to interfere, disrupting the circle. One swift chomp - crack! - and the bird’s neck went limp. The sound of wet chewing and cracking bones was difficult to ignore. A shriek cut the air. A large eagle was circling overhead, having heard the earlier cries of her baby. She swooped down with talons bared, clawing at its back, and the wolf jumped back and yelped in pain and surprise. The eagle persisted and the wolf grabbed her by the end of one of her wings and pulled her to the ground.

Though wounded, the eagle pulled free and scrambled to her feet. She bravely stretched her huge wingspan out and slowly stepped towards the wolf. The bird must have known it wasn't a fight she could win, but she still bothered with trying to scare the wolf off. However, the wolf had only snarled and took a few steps towards the mother eagle. Wylendriel narrowed her eyes. Now the wolf was being greedy. He had already eaten, he shouldn't be worrying himself with fighting the angry mother. Furthermore… Wylendriel’s eyes fell back to the nest. The wolf would be killing more than just the mother.

The priestess got to her feet and balanced on the branch, then leaped to an adjacent branch and climbed back onto the branch which held up the beehive. She crawled as cautiously and as gently as she could to avoid disturbing the hive, but quickly enough to act.

“Song of night-tide canopy - stars woven between your leaves. Crow's watching eye; snake's empty belly - moving, dancing in every moment... forgetting what comes and what is gone."

Murmuring her quick prayer to Y’ffre, she took her skinning knife and cut the stem holding the hive to the branch and let it plummet near the two creatures below - this would hurt the hive to some extent, but it could be easily rebuilt. She just retreated to the branch she was resting in earlier and watched the angry swarm target the two nearby animals as the hive busted open. A couple stings in the wolf’s muzzle and it was gone. The eagle was mostly unbothered by them and weakly flapped her wings and flew back up to the top of the tree to tend to her wound and her chicks. Wylendriel sighed and let the wolf put distance between them, thankful that she was forgotten about. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that the eagle was watching her until every time Wylendriel looked back at them.

Three days later…

The sun was inching closer towards sunset, and the air was hot.

‘Why is that thing here? Of all places!’

Wylendriel’s breath, weak and raspy, panting. The grass and leaves rustled with every step. An unnoticed flower trampled underfoot. No Green Pact bosmer would ever dare…

‘No wonder the past couple days have been so quiet! To think… up here? In the mountains?’

A loud, earth-trembling quake reverberated through the woods. Then another - footsteps of something utterly massive.

“Why is that giant chasing me?” She cried. An old, low hanging branch of a tree she had been too distracted to notice whipped her in the face as she ran for dear life, scraping her and drawing droplets of blood. The pain, as much as it stung, didn’t seem to matter so much when escaping the threat of being crushed into paste or being torn limb from limb. That moment of gazing upon an old elk, so great in its majesty with a rack of antlers as wide as a carriage, were but fleeting seconds before the instant it took for an even greater giant to crush the poor creature in the palm of its hand. Then his sights were set on her, and he dropped it… she wasn’t even sure if the giant was hungry or not. If that was the case, why did it even bother pursuing her?

The trees behind her exploded into splinters as the giant bull rushed her direction. It seemed that what stamina she had drained from him had returned, and he was well on his way to being right on her heels… rather, it might be more appropriate to say he'd be right on top of her!

’Damn it! I have to do something! She thought in the midst of her panic. The further down the mountain she ran, the steeper some of drops were and the thicker the foliage was, but the ledges were but minor steps for the giant and the thickets did nothing to slow him down. If memory served correctly, there should be a caverns up here, east of Whiterun and the river. It was a delve favorited by bandits, but…

Wylendriel turned around briefly and saw the giant charging closer, shouting a guttural roar and spewing spittle with a fallen tree serving as the club in his hand. She doubted that the club was the thing he actually wanted to kill her with. Ugh, fine! There wasn't any time to be worrying about bandits. Wylendriel’s mad sprint brought her to the river soon enough, and she seemed inches away from the giant’s grasp, but she took a sharp left towards the north and avoided the massive paw. The giant’s foot tripped upon the edge of the riverbank and slippery slopes and brought the creature tumbling down onto his side with a thunderous crash. He roared after the little bosmer in anger. In the time it took for him to get up, the fleet footed elf was already making progress towards a slope up the next mountain, and White River Watch was coming into sight.

It was a minute or two later and her feet were smacking against the wooden stairs that were built against the mountain slope. The muffled sound of thunder was following her. She had to get inside the cave before the giant--

“What's a pretty little knife-eared bitch doing here, eh?” Sneered a voice up ahead. From the cavern’s shadows came a bandit, who was currently notching an arrow on his bowstring. She barely noticed the smaller nord man behind the first, who was resting a short blade on his leather shoulder armor.

“Pretty? Nah, Brim, you're thinking of them high elves,” he said, putting particular emphasis on what kind of elf, indicating no particular love for any sort of elf. “She's one of them gross cannibal sorts. Ain't no mouth I wanna be stickin’ my tongue in.”

As revolting as the discourse was, she was in a panic and didn't have time to be disgusted with them. Still, it was clear to her that these two had no intention of just leaving her be - she had to think of something.

“I am a priestess from the Temple of Kyne!” Wylendriel spat. “Let me through, I don't have--”

“Gee, Jold, now that I think of it, I did hear that temple took in a cannibal.” Brim mused.

“Ain't no temple o’ mine!” Jold added. “Now Zenithar - mister money bags - that’s a god I can get behind!”

Wy’s senses, far sharper as they were, could tell that the giant was just around the corner, and was visibly anxious to get moving. “You're wasting time!” She urged.

“I agree,” replied Jold. “Kill ‘er.”

It was as soon as Brim pulled back the string of his bow that the giant peered around the mountain. As quickly as Brim saw it, turned and shot the arrow at the giant when it started running up the mountain slope. Wy flinched, and was momentarily confused, but looked back when the giant roared out in pain. Brim started notching another arrow and, like a doe, Jold was frozen solid upon sight. Wy pushed past the both of them and scrambled towards the caverns, breaking Jold’s fearful trance. As the giant inched closer, Jold followed after Wy into the caverns and Brim shot another arrow only for it to get caught by the giant’s massive club. The bow-wielding nord was too slow to get away from the monster’s swing and was batted off the mountain, where he'd presumably land in The Pale. Unrealistic, yes, but she couldn't help but wonder how far his body would fly from a swing like that. He was probably dead upon impact. She'd pray for the loss of life, but…

”You elven bitch!” Jold screamed, jumping atop of her, fighting with her in trying to wrap his hands around her throat. “You led that thing here!”

Wy stopped trying to slap his hands and instead grabbed his wrists. After a brief second, her hands started glowing green and it wasn't long after then she felt herself slowly reenergizing and the bandit’s grip growing weaker. When he finally released her, she gasped for air and threw the man off of her with strength unseemly of a priestess thanks to that magic. Unfortunately, she didn't notice the giant reaching its arm through the cavern, and Jold was within reach. The giant pulled him closer with his fingers, probably grinding him into the floor a little bit and crushing his bones. After he was pulled into the giant’s palm, the monster squeezed hard with a grunt. Wy just heard sickly wet noises and breaking bones mixed with the he screams that were suddenly silenced. She felt like throwing up. The giant just dropped dead Jold and tried its damnedest to inch after Wy, and she kicked her feet trying to get as far away as she could. This greedy thing… it wasn't like the wolf, it wasn't concerned with eating at all! It was hunting for sport!

Wy climbed to her feet and started running deeper into the caverns. If the layout was what she thought it was, if her brief survey from the outside was any indicator, there should be an exit that could help her escape for good. Running through the caverns, barely noticing the lack of bandits present (were there only two?), her hunch was right as the end of the cavern ended at another wooden platform. She looked all around her… it was like a steep drop on every side. She tried to look around the edge of the mountain to see if the giant was still peering into entrance or if he finally gave up… much to her dismay, it was neither of the two, but was looking straight at her and he definitely seemed to be trying to figure out how to get to her. Wy sighed and let her shoulders drop… finally, she can relax.

The tree that giant has been using as a club came flying right at her.

She dove out of the way back towards the cavern as half of the platform broke into splinters. “Oblivion damn you!” She shrieked, covering her head from the falling debris. Her hands got scraped up pretty badly, though it was manageable. She was more alarmed by the sound of the nearby rock tumbling down the mountainside. She sneaked a peek around the mouth of the cavern. Nothing. Was he gone? She peeked a little bit further...

Just as Wy inched closer, the giant’s face swung around from the other side of the rock, staring at her from a mere few feet away.

’That bastard climbed the side of the mountain. Like a damn imga!’

The priestess jumped to her feet and bolted back towards the cavern, and the giant was pulling himself up to be level with the cavern’s exist. She was far enough inside that she would be out of the giant’s reach, but now she was on her hands and knees trying to catch her breath.

’I can’t believe this. He has me trapped inside. Kynareth, how am I going to get out?’

She was answered with a half-hour of silence. Why was she so quiet? Was this a test? Every time she thought the giant was gone, he’d peer in through the hole to see if she were still there. That damn, crafty… ugh! She has been waiting so long for him to leave!. She can’t just wait until he brings the damn mountain down on her head. If she headed out the other way, the giant would simply see her leaving and climb back over. It was just like the time with the wolf… how did she get out of that mess? A gust of wind from outside blew through the tunnel, and as cold as it was, sent shivers up her spine. Her memories flashed before her eyes - a gust of wind and the chicks fell. Cried for help - eaten. The mother arrives… the mother arrived and she fought. Fell wounded… she stood her ground. Wings out. Stood her ground… wings out. Wylendriel looked up at the giant, half of whom’s face was looking into the inside of the caverns. Stand her ground. That’s the only way she was gonna get out of here.

“I think I finally understand...” Wy muttered. "Thank you, Jadis."

She pulled herself up to her feet and dusted herself off, stung her hands a little bit. They were still roughed up, but they were so minor that went the priestess brought her hands together and bathed them in a restorative light, they were healed over in a moment’s notice. She took a deep breath, drew her skinning knife, and paced forward with her hands at her sides. Chin up. Lip steadied. The giant’s interest was evidently piqued as she started moving closer to his reach.

“Forgive me Y’ffre, the Storyteller, and Kynareth, the mother, for what I am about to do…”

Another step, and the giant looked in.

“...to send you a child of Nirn, for its transgressions against nature’s balance...”

Another step, and the giant’s hand reached in through the mouth of the cavern.

“...for they would profane your bountiful treasures…”

Another step, and the hand went to grab the priestess.

“...and forgetting what will come, and what is gone.”

As the giant tried to take her into his grasp, Wy plunged the knife deep into the giant’s finger beneath his fingernail. He reared back in pain, pulling his hand out of the cavern and holding it in the air before him as he latched onto the mountainside with his other hand. ’Now --’ she raised her hand in the air and made the clear mental image of the animal she was looking for… the eagle, standing its ground before the wolf; collected her magicka and sought to bind this animal spirit to her, not to the land- she was Nirn, but one small part of it - and an eagle in a brilliant white-blue luminescent glow materialized before her. From Aetherius it flew, and it kept flying towards the giant outside the cavern with its talons bared and sinking them into the monster’s eyes, bloodying them to pulp then dissipating in thin air.

The giant roared once more in agony and lost his grip upon the mountain and fell backward. Each second was followed by one thunderous crash after another as it tumbled upon the mountain. Eventually the giant’s roars stopped when his head smacked against a boulder real hard, but the continued to fall until he finally hit the ground and lay lifeless beside the river. Wy rushed over to the cavern exit and peered over the edge - sure enough, he lies motionless at the base of the mountain. Her knees felt weak. She did it! She actually conjured... she... Jadis wanted her to find herself and... she wasn't any doe, no; but most importantly, she's survived. The priestess fell on her bum and pressed her back against the cavern wall. The only thing she had energy to do was to stare toward the ceiling and laugh to herself, tears of relief running down her face.

She was glad no one was here. She must have looked like a maniac.

Dance of the Spinners

When the echoes of He are not echoed in the songs of us,
and his tapestries are not woven into the songs of birds
which reflect upon the sea and unto us, as would be just,
the echoes of the Storyteller around that which we gird
floating adrift, so we must swim as the Bosmer must,
but the Bosmer cannot see or hear or sing unspurred.

Without an echo to which to swim, but without ears with which to hear,
the Bosmer sit stagnant, with none else but the self to echo.
The Silvenar with blood running gold, nay not him but all far and near,
for whom to echo songs of echoes when there's no ears or fellow
when the fellow drinks gold to blind the self of running blood and fear?

No pleas to the Green Lady to act, surely, she too deafens,
with no voice and no song, and no heart and no body
to neither speak nor fight in the Bosmer's name, or take up weapons -
expression of Bosmer tradition cannot be fated to disembody.
True, not like this, the future yields promise in light of transgressions.

Bosmer corrupted by promise, made fools and sinners,
when Thalmor came with gifts to hide their slaughter.
Of six veils to tread, in the changing of Nirn, one is rarely thinner
still reminded were we by the daughter of wood and sky, that daughter -
my daughter - to sing and fight again, to fear the dance of the Spinners.