The weight of the revelation lingered as Del took a slow, steadying breath. The girl—Elara—was an elf, a being he’d heard of in stories but never expected to encounter. As the Overmind’s glowing text faded from view, he shifted his focus back to her, taking in the faint shimmer of her skin where the firelight played against it. She was watching him cautiously, her dark eyes scanning his face for some unspoken judgement.

“I’m Del,” he said, his voice gentler than before. He tried a small smile, hoping to reassure her. “And I’m glad I got here before they ate you.”

She hesitated for a heartbeat, then gave a quiet reply. “Elara,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “As am I.”

The tension in the air eased, and Del felt a flicker of relief. “Well, Elara, I’m a bit messy from the fight.” He glanced down at his blood-smeared arm and hands, grimacing at the crusted remnants of gore. “So I’m going to wash up, and then I think we might use the fire to cook up something more suitable for lunch.”

A faint smile touched her lips, and she nodded in agreement. Together, they made their way toward the stream, the forest around them alive with the subtle rustling of leaves and the occasional distant chirp of birds. Del felt the weight of her presence beside him, a strange mixture of curiosity and unease bubbling in his chest. She walked quietly, her bare feet making barely a sound against the forest floor, her movements light and graceful despite her earlier ordeal.

As they reached the stream, the soft burble of water offered a soothing contrast to the grim memory of the goblin camp. Del shrugged off his jerkin, laying it on a nearby rock, and knelt to sluice the blood and dirt from his arms. The cool water stung as it hit his healing wound, but he was pleased to see it was almost fully closed. The silverbloom paste had done its job.

‘I like these herby medicines,’ he thought with a faint smile. Rubbing at the stubborn patches of grime, he let out a low sigh, feeling the tension of the morning’s events begin to dissipate. When he looked up, he caught sight of Elara fully immersed in the water. She ducked her head beneath the surface, scrubbing vigorously at her hair, the tangled mess slowly giving way to sleek, dark strands that caught the sunlight as she resurfaced.

Del quickly averted his gaze, focusing instead on the task of gathering wood for the fire. The sound of water splashing behind him was a constant reminder of her presence, but he forced himself to concentrate. He selected a few sturdy branches, their dry bark rough under his hands, and carried them back to the camp. Misty greeted him with a soft mewl, weaving between his legs as he set about building a simple frame to hold the pork over the flames.

The fire crackled softly, and the rich aroma of roasting meat began to fill the clearing. Del worked methodically, mashing sage and parsley together with dripping pork fat to create a crude basting mix. As he brushed the mixture over the meat with a makeshift twig brush, he heard light footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Elara, now dressed in his oversized shirt, her wet hair hanging in sleek waves down her back. She moved hesitantly, her eyes meeting his with a mix of curiosity and gratitude.

“Smells good,” she said, her smile tentative but genuine.

Del couldn’t help but return it. “It should be ready soon.” He gestured to the log across the fire, and she sat down, her movements careful and deliberate. Now that she was clean, the delicate features of her face were more apparent—her gently tapered ears and the slight tilt to her eyes gave her an almost ethereal quality.

“I have to admit,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know much about elves.” He shrugged. “To be honest, you’re the first I’ve ever met.”

“Really?” she asked, surprise flickering across her face. “I thought we were quite widespread in Gondowa; most towns and cities have plenty of elven kind within.”

“I’m not actually from here,” Del admitted, pausing as he turned the meat. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’m definitely new to this land.”

Elara tilted her head slightly, her curiosity growing. “Wow, okay. Well, I am quite young for an elf. I turned 35 last year,” she said, her tone light. “So I don’t know much of this land myself. I left the woods of my Hometree a year ago to make my way and find my own path. I want to be a nature mage. I know it’s a big ambition, but I think I can do it.” Her enthusiasm bubbled over, a stark contrast to her earlier wariness.

Del blinked, taken aback. “Thirty-five? I thought you were a teenager or something. I’m sorry—please forgive my confusion.”

She laughed, the sound light and musical, like wind through the leaves. “If you don’t know elves, then no forgiveness is necessary.” She smiled warmly as he carved up the meat and handed her a portion. Her expression softened as she accepted it, and for the first time, Del felt the weight of the day’s tension begin to lift.

“Elves mature slowly. We reach physical maturity a bit like you humans, around 18 or so, but we are a long-lived people, longer even than dwarves.”

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‘Dwarves? Of course, there are dwarves. Do I meet Snow White next?’ Del thought with a flicker of bemusement, though the absurdity of the situation refused to let him fully relax.

“So at 35 years, I am considered an elder youth approaching adulthood. But I will not be a fully adult member of elven society until I am at least 40.”

Del blinked, chewing thoughtfully as he processed her words. The idea of living decades and still being considered “young” was difficult to wrap his head around. To him, 35 years was half a lifetime. The concept of slowly maturing over such a span seemed alien, yet strangely logical when he looked at her. Elara carried herself with an ethereal grace, but there was a freshness to her that hinted at inexperience, as though the weight of centuries hadn’t yet touched her.

“I see,” he said through a mouthful of warm pork, savouring the smoky richness of the meat. “So what brings you out here? I take it you’re a long way from your usual area.”

“Indeed,” she replied, her lips curving into a faint smile. She wiped a small dribble of fatty juice from her chin, her movements delicate yet unselfconscious. “Once I knew my path was to be with nature, and I’d learned my first casting, I decided to head to the more populated regions and seek a master of the craft to teach me.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to travel alone?” Del asked, raising an eyebrow. He gestured faintly with his fork, his tone equal parts curiosity and concern. “I mean, I don’t know much about this land yet, but goblins don’t seem like the worst of what’s out there.”

“Yes and no.” She tilted her head, her expression growing thoughtful. “Normally, a goblin wouldn’t have been able to catch me so unaware, but…I was stupid.” Her shoulders sagged as she let out a long sigh, a shadow of regret passing over her face.

“I spotted a plant I didn’t recognize and got too absorbed, didn’t pay attention. Next thing I knew, I stepped into a rope trap and was hauled into the air upside-down. That little green arse was leaping up and down in glee, poking me and prodding me as if weighing up a prize steer for market. I hung there for what seemed like ages; then there were four of them, chattering around me in their foul tongue. Well, they cut me down, and before I knew it, they’d stripped me and shoved me in that damn sack. That was three or four days ago now. It was hard to keep track.”

Her voice wavered slightly, and she gave an involuntary shudder, her hands curling into the fabric of Del’s oversized shirt. “I can’t tell you how lucky I was that you turned up when you did.”

Del paused, struck by the weight of her words. For all her composure, he could see the vulnerability in her now, the subtle tremble in her hands and the way her gaze drifted to the fire as if unwilling to meet his.

“My pleasure, Elara. You’re too pretty to be someone’s dinner,” he said, his attempt at lightness tinged with awkward sincerity.

She blushed, dipping her head to hide her eyes, but a soft smile played at her lips. “I mean, look, I—alright, I’m not necessarily the best with words, but you know what I mean,” he stammered, letting out a nervous half-laugh.

Elara looked up, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Yes, Del, you mean you think I’m pretty.” Then, to his surprise, she burst into a musical laugh and poked her tongue out at him, the sound lightening the air between them.

Misty, who had been sitting attentively nearby, chose that moment to assert her presence. With an elegant stretch, she arched her back and flicked her tail, the very picture of feline superiority. Her golden eyes locked onto Del’s plate, and as they watched, she sauntered over with deliberate grace. With a single deft motion, she hooked a piece of meat between her teeth and retreated triumphantly.

Del blinked, half-indignant, half-amused, as she leapt effortlessly into Elara’s lap, carrying her prize like a conquering queen. After a quick circle to set her spot, she curled herself up. Her sleek fur glinted faintly in the firelight as she began chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. A low, rumbling purr vibrated through her, her contentment filling the quiet space like a soft melody.

“Traitor,” Del muttered, narrowing his eyes at the cat. Misty ignored him entirely, her tail flicking dismissively as though to say, Your opinion is irrelevant.

Elara’s chuckle broke the moment, a warm, lilting sound that softened the edges of Del’s irritation. She raised a hand, hesitating briefly, before stroking Misty’s fur with tentative fingers. The cat leaned into the touch, her purring intensifying as Elara’s confidence grew. Soon, her strokes became rhythmic, her hand gliding over the silky coat with obvious affection.

“She’s beautiful,” Elara said softly, her voice filled with genuine admiration. Her fingers traced along Misty’s spine, earning a satisfied chirp from the cat. “And so confident. It’s like she knows she’s in charge.”

“Oh, she knows,” Del replied dryly, crossing his arms. “She’s been running the show since day one.”

Elara laughed again, the sound carrying an ease that felt rare in the aftermath of what she’d endured. Del found himself smiling despite his feigned annoyance. Misty, now thoroughly spoiled, shifted slightly to press her head into Elara’s hand, her eyes closing in pure bliss.

“See?” Del said, gesturing toward the cat. “Completely shameless. I clean up after her, feed her, nurture her, and this is the thanks I get.”

Elara glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with humour. “Maybe she just knows where the best company is,” she teased, her fingers scratching gently behind Misty’s ears. The cat stretched luxuriously in response, her tail curling in a lazy arc.

Del shook his head, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “You’re encouraging her. This won’t end well for either of us, you know.”

“I think it’s ending perfectly,” Elara countered, her voice light as she continued to fuss over Misty. For a moment, the air between them seemed warmer, the shared amusement carving out a pocket of calm amidst the strangeness of their meeting.

“So, what about you? Where are you from? I know as little about you as you do about me.” Her tone shifted, curiosity sharpening her gaze. “You said you weren’t from around here.”

Del hesitated, the question hitting him like a stone dropping into still water. How much could he tell her? How much could he say without sounding utterly insane?

‘Well, Del, if you tell her a lie, it better be a damned good one, or tell her as much of the truth as you need without getting labelled a lunatic,’ he thought, his mind racing through possible answers.

Deciding to tell her his story, Del takes a breath...

And the world froze.