A Cat And A Tree
by Risia Ylevrinth
There once was a cat named J'zargi, a very rude cat who would gnaw and scratch all the meek and innocent trees and shrubs in the forest. J'zargi was a large cat, and a terrible bully. To witness J'zargi killing the woodland life for no reason at all would be a common occurrence. To J'zargi, the more the native Bosmeri and Beastfolk new of his horrid ruthlessness, the better; For J'zargi was a cat as big as he was prideful. One day, J'zargi tried to steal from a local tribe of twenty-seven called Corisilen, for he could not leave a small tribe in peace, as they could not defend themselves -- or so the cat thought.
J'zargi had set his eyes on a peculiar stone of amber that would reflect one's eyes with an orange glow. In order to get this piece of amber, he would need to climb the tallest tree in the valley on which the Corisilen Tribe perched their Treethane's throne, as well as where their archers lay waiting. He would leave at the dead of night, when the Bosmer camped along the river banks under the great oak. "Perfect!" J'zargi muttered beneath his malicious breath, as the tree's bark made for an excellent surface to climb. He ascended quickly up the side of the oak, in his excitement, he couldn't help but shake, though he had stolen enough valuables and flayed enough trees that it had been years since the thought of theft riled him up so.
Upon reaching the top branches, he entered the warped, arboreal throne room perched between the base of the branches. Tip-toeing through the interior and up to the throne whose back held the piece of amber along its head. The greedy cat carved it out with his protracted claws as his hind-paws clawed at the branches in delight. Now that J'zargi had the jewel in his paw, all that was left to do was to claw his way down and sell it to the nearest Wharf Rat fence in town. As he scaled down the patient oak, he couldn't help but to rend the bark. He had won, or so he naively believed, for there is something all seedlings must know of Y'ffre's glorious grove, something that wouldn't cross the mind of a selfish cat such as J'zargi. Unlike other jungles on Nirn, The Lawmaker had planted his very essence into our soil. His children, indistinguishable from your average foliage, root themselves into the Y'fri-Cerylen, the sacred soil of Y'ffre, his beautiful garden that is more commonly known as Valenwood. One such child, the Graht Oak Yritheviln, had been rooted along that river bank, and had been the seat of the Corisilen Tribe since its Treethane and Root-Speaker meditated beneath it for a season. J'zargi had selfishly tore and ripped into this dendriform demigod in an effort to steal from those who sanctify it, and Yritheviln was not pleased.
As J'zargi got to the mid-way point of its trunk, the shaking of the Graht grew stronger and more intense. Yritheviln rose out of the ground as J'zargi clung for dear life. As the Graht Oak began to walk down the river towards the Blue Divide, J'zargi had never kept his eyes as tightly shut as he did in this moment. For what seemed like an eternity, Yritheviln swayed and stomped, until there was no more shaking, no sounds of crashing of any kind. "Is it finally over?" J'zargi thought to himself, he finally opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of sweet, undeserved relief. He resumed his descent, he heard something else. A strong gust of wind, perhaps? The sounds of seagulls in the distance? He looked over his shoulder to see that they were now along the swampy coast of Valenwood. Before he could take it all in, his ribs began to crumple like paper. Yritheviln had grabbed the thieving cat with its nearest branch, flinging him out towards Thras; And as J'zargi flew over the Blue Divide, the last sight he saw before hitting the water was the satisfied Graht Oak, seemingly twice its own size, waltzing back into the jungles from whence it came.
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This is meant to be a Bosmeri work of fiction, a fairytale, essentially. Neither the Corisilen Tribe, J'zargi, or Yritheviln are supposed to be real.