Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Elder Scrolls, I just own my characters.

"Where am I?" the child questioned. A sack covered his face, making it hard to see. All he could hear was the sound of wooden wheels rolling on the ground.

"Quiet back there!" yelled a man. He sounded old, about 40.

"So, what's the deal with the kids?" said another man. This one sounded younger.

"They're to be brought to Skyrim in Windhelm." said the old man.

"I don't like the slave trade." The young man said. He paused for a moment. "I guess there's nothing we can really do. Dunmer are not very fun to anger, and they hate when people mess with their slaves."

"I make fifty septims for every child we bring to them. The coin feeds my children. If that means that a bunch of lizards are put under a Dunmer's foot, then I don't care." said the old man.

"What if we let a few go? I mean, they're just kids." said the young man, feeling pity for the children.

"We could, but the Dunmer would most likely find out." said the old man.

"Our quota is 5 a month, we have 6. Why not let one go?" the young man said.

"And where would they go? They're kids, hundreds of miles from Black Marsh, with nowhere to go." the old man stated.

"I'll take one with me. Maybe they'll be able to do something about this filthy business!" said the young man.

"Fine, grab one from the front and hide it. But be forewarned, if you get caught, don't come crawling to me for help." said the old man.

The child heard the man reaching back to grab one of the children. He then felt a hand grab his shirt. He pulled the child up and into his lap. "Here, let me take that sack off. I wanna see the face of my new friend."

The man pulled the sack from the child's face, revealing a cute little Argonian boy. The child looked scared, afraid of what the new face would do to him. "Please don't hurt me." The boy said, a tear rolling down his face.