Elara’s brow furrowed for a moment, her puzzled expression lingering as though she were trying to piece together some unseen conundrum. Before Del could decide whether to comment, Misty leapt gracefully back into her lap, reclaiming her rightful place as the centre of attention. The elf’s hand resumed its rhythmic strokes along the cat’s sleek ginger fur, and Misty rewarded her with a low, contented purr.

Del leaned back slightly, letting out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. ‘This is damned weird,’ he thought, his gaze flicking between the two. ‘No time has passed for her, yet I just had a whole conversation with that damn cybo-whatever she is.’ The surreal nature of it all hung heavy in his chest, but he pushed the thought aside for now. There was no point dwelling on things he couldn’t change.

“I’m a bit new here myself,” he said, picking up where the conversation had left off before Menolly’s abrupt interruption. His voice was steady, casual, though his mind raced to keep his fabricated story straight. “Like you, I’m searching for my proper path, and this is my first time in Gondowa.” He shrugged, forcing a small smile. “I’m from a small island in the Western Sea. There aren’t many of us there—no elves, no dwarves, or anything else. Just a handful of human families living the quiet life. I wasn’t happy and felt I needed more, so... here I am.”

Elara’s gaze softened, curiosity mingling with a hint of understanding. Del pressed on, trying to sound as natural as possible. “I’ve only been on the mainland a few days, and already I’ve had quite a few things try to kill me. It’s been... an adjustment.”

A wry chuckle escaped him as he added, “Before I came here, the most dangerous thing I had to deal with was an angry bee when I tried to steal its honey.”

That earned a laugh from her, light and melodic. Her eyes drifted briefly to the nearest goblin corpse, the humour in her expression mingling with something darker. “I’m glad your pest control skills have improved,” she said dryly.

“So, what now, Elara?” Del asked, leaning forward slightly. “What are your plans? I don’t have much of a plan myself, so if you want some company, I’m happy to tag along and see where the road takes us.”

“Well…” She tilted her head thoughtfully, her fingers absently scratching behind Misty’s ears as the cat nuzzled into her hand. “I need to get to a city eventually if I’m going to find a master mage. But I’m not exactly sure where yet, since I’m a bit like you.” Her lips quirked into a self-deprecating smile. “Maybe I haven’t been quite so isolated from the world’s realities, but it’s my first time leaving the protection of the Hometree.”

“The Hometree?” Del asked, intrigued despite himself. “You make it sound like a prison.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not a prison, exactly, but parents and elders can be so... restricting. ‘Don’t do this, don’t do that,’” she said, her voice pitching in a light imitation of a stern authority figure. “Maybe ‘escape’ is a bit strong, but it was certainly a relief to get out from under their constant gaze.”

“Fair comment,” Del said, nodding. “I never had children, but I saw enough of my friends with theirs to know what you mean.”

“It’s never too late,” she replied, her tone laced with humour. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of challenge and amusement as she regarded him.

Del couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was tinged with irony. “I passed fifty a while back,” he said, spreading his hands. “I doubt anyone would be fool enough to want to continue my line.”

“Fifty is not old,” Elara said matter-of-factly, though her tone carried an edge of teasing. “Not even for you short-lived humans.”

Her words sparked a rueful smile from Del.

‘Ahh, the joys of youth,’ he thought, leaning back slightly as her words settled over him. It wasn’t a conversation he’d expected to have, but there was something oddly comforting in the banter.

Getting practical, Del began clearing the site, stamping out the embers of the dying fire and brushing away traces of their presence. The world around them felt oddly calm in the aftermath of recent chaos, the chirp of distant birds and the soft rustle of the trees slowly filling the silence. He glanced over at Elara, who sat cross-legged on the ground, absentmindedly scratching Misty’s ears.

“It won’t be safe to stay here too long,” he said, his tone pragmatic. “Do you have any idea what they did with your gear after they caught you?”

Elara sighed and shook her head, her expression shadowed by frustration. “I wish,” she replied. “They were on the move almost constantly. I couldn’t see anything from in that sack where they had dumped me—sometimes I could hear the river, but not always. It’s probably long gone by now.”

She gave a small shrug, the gesture heavy with resignation. Del frowned. He’d seen firsthand how critical the right tools could be out here, and the loss of her belongings added another layer of vulnerability to their situation.

“Can you use a sword? A knife? A bow?” he asked, his mind already cataloguing what he had to spare. “You said you’re a mage. What combat spells do you know? I’d like to have some idea of what we’re working with if—no, when—we run into trouble.”

Elara tilted her head, considering. “I can use a bow,” she said slowly. “Elves tend to be good with bows—it’s in our blood, or so they say.” She hesitated, her voice dropping a little. “And a knife, well enough. But as for spells... I can make a plant grow, a bit. That’s about it.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers curling slightly into her palms. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I guess I’m pretty useless, all things considered.”

“Hey,” Del said firmly, stepping closer. He crouched down, using a gentle finger to tilt her chin until their eyes met. “You’re not useless. Can you teach me to use a bow? I know the basics, but most of my hits have been more luck than skill. And as for your magic—making a plant grow could be incredibly useful. What if we find something edible but it’s not ripe? You could make it ready for us. That’s a talent worth having.”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Elara’s lips curved into a small smile, faint but genuine. Misty, as if sensing the mood, leaned into her hand with a soft purr, drawing a quiet laugh from the elf.

“Shall we head out, then?” Del asked, straightening. “We’ll keep an eye out for a good spot to practice with the bow.” He turned to Misty, giving a short, playful whistle. “Go on, girl, scout ahead for us.”

Misty flicked her tail, bounding off into the underbrush with a silent grace that Del envied. He handed Elara one of the spare knives and she slung the bow over her shoulder. For himself, he kept a knife and two swords—a patchwork arsenal, but it would have to do.

‘All you need now, Del, is a patch and a parrot, and you could be a pirate,’ he thought, a grin tugging at his lips. ‘Ooo arr, lad, pieces of fekkin’ eight.’

The terrain was quiet as they moved, the forest dappled with sunlight and alive with the occasional rustle of small creatures. Now and then, Del caught sight of something rabbit-like darting between the trees, but the creatures’ sharp teeth and unsettling stares made him think twice about calling them rabbits. ‘Are rabbits supposed to have pointy teeth and eat mice?’ he wondered grimly. He hoped not.

After a couple of hours, Misty reappeared on the riverbank ahead, grooming herself in the sunlight with a casual nonchalance that suggested she’d found something useful. Sure enough, Del spotted the mud bank opposite—a tall, smooth wall rising above a small sand spit. It was ideal for archery practice, almost suspiciously so.

‘Damn cat understands more than I give her credit for,’ he thought, approaching her with a grin. He crouched down to scratch behind her ears. “Good girl, Misty, you did good.”

Misty blinked at him slowly, a loud purr rumbling from her chest, before returning to her grooming. Del kicked off his boots and waded across the river, the cold water biting at his skin. He grabbed a stick and began drawing in the mud—a round target, rough and uneven, and beside it, a misshapen blob to represent a goblin.

Returning to Elara, Del held out his hand for the bow with an exaggerated flourish. “Now then,” he said, flashing a self-deprecating grin. “Prepare to witness a masterclass in how not to use a bow.”

Elara tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. “But you hit the goblins,” she said, sounding genuinely curious.

“That,” Del replied as he nocked an arrow, “was less about skill and more about blind panic combined with a huge amount of luck. Watch and learn.”

He drew back the string, taking aim at the crude circle in the mud. The arrow sailed wide, disappearing into the underbrush with a faint rustle. Del frowned but quickly nocked another arrow, determined to at least graze the target this time. Five more attempts followed, and by the end, the circle had suffered a single pitiful scratch while the surrounding mud bore the brunt of his enthusiasm.

Elara watched the spectacle in silence, her lips twitching with suppressed laughter. As the last arrow thudded harmlessly into the mud far from its mark, she broke into a broad grin. “I agree,” she said lightly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “But I do thank you for having the luck to save my life. It’s good to know your fear can be weaponised.”

Del laughed, gesturing toward Misty, who had perched herself nearby and was watching the proceedings with the unmistakable air of a critic. “Ah now, Elara, it wasn’t just luck. I had my secret ginger weapon.”

Misty’s ears twitched, and she flicked her tail dismissively, her gaze sweeping over Del with a look that was nothing short of exasperated. It was almost as if she were thinking, I cannot believe I’m stuck with this idiot.

Del chuckled at her silent judgment, shaking his head. “Yeah, I get it, girl. Don’t start. I’m working on it.”

He collected the arrows and returned to Elara, who was now leaning casually against a tree, her arms crossed and the bow slung over one shoulder. She raised a brow as he approached.

“Alright,” she said, pushing off from the tree. “Step aside. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Del handed her the bow, folding his arms as he stepped back to watch. “Go on, Legolas. Impress me.”

Elara smirked, raising the bow with effortless grace. She nocked an arrow and drew the string back smoothly, her movements fluid and precise. "Who's Legolas?" She asked as she loosed the arrow, which struck the centre of the circle with a satisfying thunk. She followed it with two more shots in quick succession, both landing near the first, forming a neat cluster.

Del whistled, clapping slowly. “Some guy from my island's history, supposed to be good with a bow." Looking across the river again he added. “Alright, I’ll admit it—that was impressive. Now I feel bad for all those goblins. They didn’t stand a chance, did they?”

Elara lowered the bow, casting him a sly look. “You know, it’s not all in the blood,” she said. “It takes practice. And patience.”

“Two things I’m short on,” Del quipped. “But I’m a fast learner.”

“Good,” Elara replied, handing the bow back to him. “Because right now, you couldn’t hit a target the size of the Hometree.”

Del placed a hand over his heart, mock wounded. “Ouch. That was uncalled for.”

Misty let out a soft chirrup, and Del glanced over at her to find her blinking slowly, the feline equivalent of rolling her eyes. He could practically hear her thinking, She’s right, you know.

Elara stepped closer, adjusting Del’s grip on the bow and gently nudging his shoulder. “Relax,” she said, her tone lighter now. “Stop fighting the bow like it owes you money. Let it guide you.”

“Right,” Del muttered, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. He followed her instructions, relaxing his stance as she stepped beside him. “How’s this?”

“Better,” Elara said, her voice encouraging. “Now, control your breathing. Slow, steady. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Del inhaled deeply, exhaling in time with her instructions. He drew the string back, feeling less tension this time as the bow seemed to settle into his hands. When he released the arrow, it struck the outer ring of the circle—not perfect, but an improvement.

“See?” Elara said, smiling. “You’re getting there. Now do it again.”

They continued for the next hour, Elara offering small adjustments and encouragement while Del gradually grew more comfortable. Each hit, even the small ones, sent a ripple of satisfaction through him, and he found himself enjoying the rhythm of it.

Misty, meanwhile, stretched out on a sunny patch of grass, watching them with her usual mix of aloofness and amusement. Occasionally, she flicked her tail or chirped softly, as if offering her own unsolicited critique. When Del finally managed to strike the blob-goblin target dead centre, she gave him a slow blink that seemed almost approving.

“See, even Misty’s impressed,” Del said, grinning as he retrieved the arrows.

“She’s probably just relieved,” Elara teased. “Less chance of you skewering her by accident.”

Del laughed, shaking his head. “Not fair. I’m improving.”

“You are,” she conceded, handing him another arrow. “But you’ve still got a long way to go.”

As the afternoon wore on, Del’s confidence grew, his shots becoming more consistent. By the time the sun began to dip below the trees, he was regularly hitting the circle and occasionally even the blob-goblin. A soft chime echoed in his mind as he loosed his final arrow.

[Archery Skill has Increased slightly]

Del handed Elara the bow and grinned inwardly. 'Well, there’s proof I’m not completely hopeless.'

Elara smiled, slinging the bow over her shoulder. “Don't worry to much Del. You’re getting there.”

Misty let out a final chirp, stretching luxuriously before padding over to Del. She brushed against his leg, her tail flicking against him in what he hoped was approval.

“All right, all right,” Del muttered, scratching behind her ears. “Let’s call it a day before my ego takes any more hits.”