darkwoodhunters – vvardenfellcat

4E 132, Valenwood

J’hasi panted, trying to keep his footfalls muffled in the leaf litter, but every movement he made sounded like thunder in his ears. Maybe it was his heartbeat making all that noise, but every snap of a twig sounded like lightning cracking, echoing in the forest, each breath a gust of wind, letting the hunter pursuing him know exactly where he was.

He couldn’t tell where they were, how close, his own breath and footfalls were making it harder for him to listen for the other set of footsteps in the underbrush, the hiss of another arrow, hell, even the panting of the mer as they kept pace with him, holding back until…

How in Oblivion did they know what he was? He’d gotten so good at concealing his condition, hadn’t slipped up in months… The Khajiit gasped for breath, stumbling on a log and nearly losing the grip on his dagger, a push of his spare fingers on the ground and he was back on his feet proper, his (most likely) broken arm pressed against his chest, running away from the scent of the hunter, leather and oil, his own blood… His wounds were making him easier to track, scarlet splattering and marking his trail behind him over the branches and rocks-

J’hasi yelped as he tripped, tumbling head over tail into the undergrowth and decaying leaves, panting and gasping for air with the heat of blood leaking into his fur and soaking his tunic, down to his leg… He sucked in a quick breath to lick at his lips, heart fluttering and throat dry with panic as he scrambled back up to his feet, gritting his teeth at the pain of his wounds aggravated by the fall, trying not to make any more noise than he already was. He felt like he was being run down like a deer-

The Khajiit stopped dead.

Why was he running? He would only tire himself and slowly bleed out. It was just like his own hunts, it was easier to take down a deer when it panicked, moving in for the kill after they’d exhausted themselves-

‘Calm down.’

J’hasi took in a few deep breaths, wincing at the pull of his flesh against the shafts buried into muscle, sharp zings of pain through his arm. His hands were still shaking with adrenaline, and he needed them steady.

‘Breathe…think… You’re faster, stronger, and more dangerous than they are… Just…don’t panic…’

The Khajiit let a breath slip between his teeth, carrying his fluttery panic out of his chest and stomach like he’d been taught, eyes focused as he pushed himself up onto his feet despite the shakiness of his legs. His ears were alert, eyes watching as his heart roared in his head… J’hasi swallowed down the metallic taste in his mouth before leaving the mess of disturbed vegetation from his fall behind, his hands trembling, but less from adrenaline and more from pain.

He wasn’t sure how the hunter knew that he was a werewolf, or why they weren’t trying to use silver on him, but the initial chase was probably just to weaken him before trying when he was slowed down, more likely to be hit and less likely to hit back properly. …or if he made himself bigger.

J’hasi frowned, brows furrowing while he caught his breath, listening for any sounds in the forest. He heard the soft rustling behind him, at least a bowshot away. It was when he heard the slight creak of the string that he bolted again despite the screaming pain in his adrenaline-weakened legs, his wounds, hearing the sharp curse before he darted into the undergrowth.

4E 132, Valenwood

He’d only left Silvenar a few days ago, and already he was sure he was lost. J’hasi groaned quietly, rolling up his map with irritation. While Valenwood’s dense forests weren’t something foreign to him, and in fact the footing and local flora and fauna were significantly easier to handle than back home in Black Marsh…he had no idea if he’d gotten turned around or not. Even a source of water could serve as a landmark, but the dirt under his feet was drier than he’d expect out of a rainforest.

The Khajiit slipped his map back into his pack. He’d just have to keep heading south. Even if he wasn’t going far enough east, he’d hit the coast eventually. He couldn’t find the thrice-damned ‘walking city’ of Falinesti, which had been his best hope for sources for a cure, but nooo. It had to traipse off into the heart of the forested province every winter. J’hasi scowled, hopping off the twisted roots he’d been crouched on, his tail giving a sharp, irritated swish behind him. He just had to be patient. From what he’d heard, Southpoint and Haven, whichever one he came across first didn’t take lively strolls every season.

He’d hardly taken more than a few dozen steps before he felt something shift against his ankle. A snap, a sudden blast of pain against the back of his skull, and then his world was suddenly upside down and a lot higher off the ground than before. J’hasi let out a string of curses, wobbling and clutching his head. It was once he pulled his hands away that he saw some blood on his fingers, hissing out another curse before trying to steady himself and his heartbeat. He looked down- well…up, spotting a twisted rope, looking like it was made from vines and strips of bark wrapped around his ankle. He sighed, letting himself hang for a few moments to think. At least no one was around to see him dangling here…

The Khajiit huffed, touching the back of his head again and finding more blood, closing his eyes against the wave of nausea before trying to reach for…

His dagger was missing.

J’hasi looked around, spotting his spear laying on the ground (no surprise), but also the shiny glint of steel on the forest floor far below. He cursed, looking up to check and see if the one strapped to his leg was still there. Thankfully, it was. J’hasi wasn’t quite sure how he’d get down, but cutting the snare was his first priority. He took a few deep breaths, then curled up at the waist, reaching for his dagger. It was when he was nearly there, fingertips brushing the bone hilt that he felt lightheaded, dropping back down, trying not to get sick while wobbling back and forth. He tried again once he was still once more, his claws catching on the bone, his eyes widening with anticipation…only for the dagger to come unsheathed, slip between his fingers, and tumble to the forest floor below.

“<Oh COME ON!>” he snarled, dropping back to hang. His ankle was starting to ache, and now he had nothing but his teeth and claws to cut the rope. J’hasi huffed, unshouldering his pack and looking at it before grimacing.

“<…please stay shut.>” he quietly pleaded with the bag before letting it drop, wincing at the sound of something breaking inside far below. The flush of embarrassment burned under his pelt as he twisted around, grabbing the rope and attempting to climb up it. It was when he’d started to pick at the snare around his ankle that he heard the creak of a bowstring, ears pricking. He looked down to see a Dunmer standing on the roots of a tree, aiming a gleaming ebony arrow right for him.

“<Stay right there, fetcher, and I’ll make this quick.>” J’hasi’s eyes widened, letting go once the arrow was loosed, hearing a curse from the archer before they whipped out a dagger, cutting the line fastened just behind them. The Khajiit cursed, twisting around and landing on all fours, hissing in pain from the shock transferring up his limbs. He lifted up an arm and pressed it to his chest, fairly certain that the unsettling crack he’d heard from it wasn’t a good sign. The Dunmer jumped into the leaf litter with a thump, drawing their bow again.

“<Make this easy on yourself and don’t try to run. I’ll fill you full of arrows before you make the edge of the clearing.>” they growled. J’hasi huffed, looking up at them, the cloth around their mouth and nose leaving only their eyes exposed, hood drawn up against the dappled sunlight that faded and grew through the minimal gaps in the leafy canopy above and the clouds even higher than that. The Khajiit shifted, the mer redoubling their grip on their bow.

“<Last warning, cat.>” J’hasi scowled.

“<I don’t have any money, so you can piss off.>” The Dunmer chuckled darkly.

“<Oh, it’s not money I’m after. It’s you. You and every other supernatural piece of garbage that walks Tamriel. Now sit still so I can kill you quickly.>” The Khajiit darted for his dagger, managing to grab the bone-handled one and the haft of his spear, only to drop the latter when the arrow fired, sinking into his shoulder as he bolted. J’hasi gasped, still running, another arrow just narrowly missing his leg, a third striking him in the side once he broke into the denser forest.

[Part Two]