Briarthorn, Chapter One, Part One

Author's Note: The following is heavily based on the Elder Scrolls lore, but don't worry if you don't know about that. Originally it was a fan fiction, but I decided that if I ever wanted to publish it, it would be far more simple if it was my own world. Originally, this took place in Cyrodil, a few years before the Oblivion Crisis. The world is essentially the same, although I have taken creative reign over it. Furthermore, this is originally the second chapter. I lost the first, and figured that I could begin the story with the second and rewrite the first as a prologue at a later date. You won't be missing anything, I promise. Furthermore, I will be uploading the chapters slowly in small parts. I generally don't spend more than thirty minutes to an hour revising, but I like to keep my progress online so that anybody who wishes to follow it can remain on their toes. Thanks for reading!
         Terra awoke sputtering. A bitter, thick liquid was being poured down her throat. She flinched, and tried to sit up, but a furred hand grabbed her shoulder and gently urged her to the ground. She was confused, but as far as she was aware, she was not in any immediate danger, and she recognized the flavor of a potion of healing, so she relaxed and remained on her sandy bed while she collected her thoughts.
         She remembered a thief, and fighting. Was she fighting the thief? No, that didn't seem correct. There was... another person. A woman... an elf woman! Terra strained to remember what had happened. She was walking from the town of Woodhall... to camp at her favorite lake, that was it. She was setting up camp at the halfway mark along the river when she met the catfolk thief, Dar'jut. It took some negotiation, and perhaps a bit of persuasive magic, but she learned that he was an assassin, looking for a rogue mage. It was a contract from the Guild of Mages, and so Terra, being a recent graduate from the Guild, reluctantly allowed him to camp with her...
         The rogue mage!
         "Dar'jut!" She exclaimed, shooting up far too fast. Her stomach churned, and to avoid losing the potion she was just force-fed, she laid back down. "Ugh," she grunted, faintly, "how long was I out?" She was thinking that the sun had moved a little, but her memory was hazy, and she could never tell time anyway.
         "Just about an hour." Dar'jut replied. His voice was now soothing to Terra. When she first met him, she was given chills by the throaty growl that he shares with most other catfolk. Now, he gave her an odd sense of security. "The bitch used her magic on Dar'jut." He continued, "He couldn't move. Had to watch her walk away into the woods. Stuck in place for the whole time. It got rather boring."
         Terra admired the gruffness of his words. Always straight to the point. And the tendency to talk in third person was entertaining. Bitch, hmm? She thought, A strange insult, but I suppose cats and dogs have a distasteful history. "She paralyzed you? Did you try to move? It takes a powerful spellcaster to maintain a paralysis that an average man can't break." She said.
         "Not very much," Dar'jut said, "At first, very hard, but then Dar'jut figured he would wait it out. He knew that she could not keep the spell active forever." He hesitated a moment. "Dar'jut is glad you are still alive. You hit your head hard when you fell. Dar'jut would have helped sooner, but the situation would not allow him."
         "Awfully sweet of a contract murderer." Terra said warmly. She sat up, slowly at first, and then jumped nearly out of her skin when she saw how close Dar'jut was, sitting cross-legged at her feet with his long tail waving calmly behind him.

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