The following entry is an excerpt of the journal of Jodeth Tresdin, currently under the alias of Iqhii.
I know not the day, and it is solely by the benevolence of the Twelve that I may recall the season.
I imagine 'twas also by the benevolence of the Twelve that I was ever discovered. A young miqo'te girl, by the name of Kepeh, found my body crumpled and battered in the Southern Shroud. She told me that I had been unconscious, and had she not found me... I surely would have bled out, and left victim to the scavengers of the woods.
She resuscitated me, and that is the first thing I remember. The pain, like a fiery inferno, slugishly crawling over every fiber of my being. When I tried to cry out in agony, I could make no sound. It was naught more than a scratchy rasp, before Kepeh graced me with the taste of water. She then took it upon herself to grace me with food and a place to sleep. Truly I am far indebted to her.
My injuries were many, and even as I write this I find myself subconsciously touching at the grotesque scar gashed into my face as a permanent reminder of that awful day.
As Kepeh tended to my injuries, she inquired about who I was, where I was from, and what happened to me. These questions I could not, and still cannot answer. I know not my name, where I am from, or how I came to be in the dire situation I was in. I was stupefied with startled alarm, to an almost paralytic degree. Though much of the initial shock has since faded, I find it jarring to try and reacquaint myself with a lifestyle among the people of which I am now wholly ignorant.
The young miqo'te took it upon herself to name me. Iqhii. A peculiar name indeed, but it is a name nonetheless, and I don't think Kepeh will ever fully understand the extent to which I am grateful. Because of her kindness, and her kindness alone, was I permitted to live. To survive.
I am Iqhii, and my past shall not be kept from me.
I know not the day, and it is solely by the benevolence of the Twelve that I may recall the season.
I imagine 'twas also by the benevolence of the Twelve that I was ever discovered. A young miqo'te girl, by the name of Kepeh, found my body crumpled and battered in the Southern Shroud. She told me that I had been unconscious, and had she not found me... I surely would have bled out, and left victim to the scavengers of the woods.
She resuscitated me, and that is the first thing I remember. The pain, like a fiery inferno, slugishly crawling over every fiber of my being. When I tried to cry out in agony, I could make no sound. It was naught more than a scratchy rasp, before Kepeh graced me with the taste of water. She then took it upon herself to grace me with food and a place to sleep. Truly I am far indebted to her.
My injuries were many, and even as I write this I find myself subconsciously touching at the grotesque scar gashed into my face as a permanent reminder of that awful day.
As Kepeh tended to my injuries, she inquired about who I was, where I was from, and what happened to me. These questions I could not, and still cannot answer. I know not my name, where I am from, or how I came to be in the dire situation I was in. I was stupefied with startled alarm, to an almost paralytic degree. Though much of the initial shock has since faded, I find it jarring to try and reacquaint myself with a lifestyle among the people of which I am now wholly ignorant.
The young miqo'te took it upon herself to name me. Iqhii. A peculiar name indeed, but it is a name nonetheless, and I don't think Kepeh will ever fully understand the extent to which I am grateful. Because of her kindness, and her kindness alone, was I permitted to live. To survive.
I am Iqhii, and my past shall not be kept from me.
