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Something orange, black, and furry sat crumpled in the prison cell's corner. 

A Khajiit, perhaps. It wouldn't be the first cat of Elswyr to land in the Imperial City's dungeons, and certainly not the last. The cell's occupants were more concerned with tending to their own wounds than waking some drunken Suthay. They had claws, after all, and might use them. 

The creature stirred and gathered itself on all fours, arching its back before settling upright on its hindquarters. No beast, this, but a Bosmer. Only one step removed from an animal in the eyes of civilized Imperials. She pulled the Senche-Tiger cloak around her tightly in the cold, dank cave, rubbing the massive and tender knot on the back of her head. 

The taste of blood sat in her mouth, both her own and traces of another's. Her vision was blurred in one eye, the flesh around it swelling up fat and purple. Her stomach, shrunken from weeks of little food, was full, though of what she did not know. And to make matters worse, someone had stolen all her things; perhaps they would return her weapons later and demand a ransom, as was tradition with the Right of Theft. 

Yarmira didn't quite remember how she'd gotten here, but that didn't bother her. She'd forgotten things before. What troubled the young Bosmer was that there she didn't know how to get [i]out[/i] of this cold, dark place. Yarmira slowly rose, and for the first time felt the cold bite of iron on her hands and wrists. She looked down at the lifeless roots that bound her, restricting her movement to a meager shuffle, rattling as she went. Yarmira made her way around the small room, slipping between drunk and wounded giants. She steered clear of the reptilian ones bearing scales, though; they looked hungry, and she didn't have her daggers. Yarmira climbed the far wall where pale moonlight poured through a small window, but it was blocked by what looked like dead vines. She gripped them, tried to wrench the things free, but they did not budge. They were cold and hard and lifeless, like everything else in this alien place. 

Heat crept up in her chest as Yarmira squirmed through the press of bodies to the other side of the cavern. More dead vines blocked her way, and through them she saw men and women in strange black carapaces.

[color=00FF7F]"Green's breath to you, friends!"[/color] She called out to them in her lilting, singsong voice, panic creeping in at the edges. [color=00FF7F]"We're trapped in this den; could you please help us escape?"[/color] The guards either ignored her or laughed, but Yarmira didn't know what was funny about this. She asked several more times, her requests growing more frantic with each breath until she was screaming at them, cursing their ancestors. Yarmira slammed her antlers against the vines in an attempt to break free, but they just rang out with a hollow [i]gong[/i] and exacerbated her growing headache. 

A harsh, mocking voice came from across the hall. She looked up to see a dark-skinned, red-eyed demon.

[i]"Well, well, a savage little Wood Elf. So far from your precious trees, aren't you? Looks like the days of wandering the green glades are behind you,"[/i] The thing said, voice dripping with venom. [i]"From the shade of Valenwood to a filthy cage like this... it's almost pitiful. Those walls, they must be pressing in on you, aren't they? Soon enough, madness will creep in; nothing grows here, you know. Then the hunger. That's right, no meat on the menu here. You're going to starve to death in here, little Wood Elf. Die!"[/i]

She fell onto her back, chest rising and falling quickly like a snared deer in its last moments. The air felt thick, unmoving, pressing down on her like damp earth over a buried seed that would never sprout. 

Yarmira thought of a story their Spinner once told her. Long ago, a tribe of Bosmer fell to Hircine's dark influence. They changed their form into that of animals and stalked the jungle, devouring everything in their path like a swarm of locusts. One day, as they travelled to new hunting grounds, the forest floor fell out from beneath their paws and they tumbled into a deep, dark cave. Try as they might, the shapeshifters could not claw their way out. As hunger grew in their bellies, Hircine's beasts turned on one another in a cannibalistic frenzy, until only one was left, and they eventually withered away to nothing.

Yarmira couldn't remember the moral of the story. Maybe it was don't fall into holes. All she could think of was the strange people in this chamber turning on each other for food, and how she would be the last one left to starve in this place untouched by the Green. Had she offended Y'ffre? Broken the Green Pact? Was this her punishment?

[i]No,[/i] Yarmira told herself as she sat upright. [i]You are Y'ffre's Chosen. The Great Spinner would never abandon you. Do not despair.[/i] With renewed spirit, Yarmira set about destroying the cold roots that bound her hands. She worked the tip of an antler into one of the rotten brown links and began twisting until it popped loose with a satisfying [i]ping[/i]. The incessant mocking from the red-eyed devil came to a sudden halt. She laughed with triumph and started setting about on those that bound her ankles together when there was a terrible screeching that sent shivers up Yarmira's spine. 

Across the narrow hall, a great orange tiger tore his way through the dead vines that kept them trapped. Yarmira watched in amazement as it prowled forth upon two legs like a Bosmer. It was the spirit of the very same Senche-Tiger whose pelt she now wore. It had to be. Returned to the waking world by Y'ffre's will to serve as her protector. 

She called out using the name she bestowed upon the tiger just before loosing the arrow which ended his life, as all her people did during their right of passage. [color=00FF7F]"Nir'thal, over here!"[/color] she cried, but the tiger didn't even look at her; he just walked on by. 

[i]Strange.[/i]

Moments later, though, Nir'thal returned, flanked by the men in black carapace. The vines opened and closed, and suddenly she was face-to-face with the tiger who almost took her life as a child. 

Nir'thal spoke, low and growling, introducing himself with a name alien to her. Kiffar. Perhaps he hadn't cared for the one she gave him; it meant "crowned hunter" in the ancient Bosmer tongue, which she thought was fitting for such a noble creature. She wondered what his new name meant. Yarmira ran up to the towering cat and beamed up at him, her sharp white teeth gleaming, large black eyes full of admiration. It was like seeing an old friend, though he looked quite different in this new body Y'ffre gave him. She bowed as deeply and gracefully as she could with her feet still bound.

[color=00FF7F]"Kiffar-Nir'thal,"[/color] Yarmira said excitedly, combining both names, [color=00FF7F]"It is an honor to see you again! You were a powerful adversary, and you will be pleased to know that no part of you was left untouched, as The Singer commands. I used your bones to create a beautiful flute, your sinew for bowstring, and your hide, as you see, has kept me warm and dry in my travels."[/color] At this, Yarmira spun around to show the Senche-Tiger his own skin that she wore on her back. The Bosmer almost hugged the massive cat, so happy was she to see a familiar face in this strange place, but did not want to offend such a proud beast.

[color=00FF7F]"What a beautiful vessel Y'ffre has given you, Kiffar-Nir'thal! Did The Singer sent you forth to aid me, as my spirit guardian? I will not lie, I am ready to be free of this evil place."[/color] Yarmira stepped away from the lifeless vines, ready for Kiffar to rip them away.