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As I pulled the diary from my bag, I caught the elf's eyes narrowing. His gaze flickered from the bag to the armor I was wearing.

Ah, crap, I thought. He's putting two and two together. Slowly, I extended the photos toward him–the ones I'd found earlier. His Gaze sharpened as I saw he had put his guard up, his body was tense and he was probably readying himself.

Need to defuse the situation…

I placed the torch closer to him, its dim light casting flickering shadows across his face. He glanced at me momentarily, suspicion and pain etched into his features before his eyes dropped back to the photos. A soft, choked sob escaped his lips.

The sound hit me harder than I'd expected, stirring an uncomfortable knot in my chest.

Feeling like an intruder, I stood up and grabbed my water bottle. "I'll... just go refill this," I mumbled, not that he'd understand me. He didn't look up as I slipped out of the cavern, his focus entirely on the memories clutched in his trembling hands.

Outside, the air was cooler, the distant drip of water echoing softly. I knelt by a small pool, letting the bottle fill slowly. "Well, that could've gone better," I muttered.

Of course, he's upset, you idiot. You're decked out in his dead friend's gear.

I splashed some water on my face, the cold seeping into my skin. It helped clear my head a bit.

The first chance he gets, he might try to gut me, I realized. Wouldn't blame him, either that’s what I would do.

I looked at my reflection in the rippling water. The exhaustion was clear–dark circles under my eyes, cuts, and bruises in various stages of healing.

You look like hell, I thought grimly. Running a hand through my damp hair, I sighed. "Gotta fix this mess somehow."

Standing up, I capped the bottle and lingered for a moment, staring into the darkness. Part of me wanted to just keep walking, and avoid the inevitable confrontation. But I knew that wasn't an option.

Coward's way out isn't gonna help anyone.

I kicked a loose pebble into the pool, watching the ripples spread out and fade. "Alright, man up," I told myself. "Go back in there and try to make things right."

The walk back felt shorter, my footsteps echoing softly. As I approached the cavern entrance, I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Just explain it to him... somehow.

Re-entering the cave, I saw the elf still hunched over the photos. His shoulders trembled slightly. The sight made me hesitate.

Damn it, this isn't easy.

I cleared my throat softly, announcing my presence. He glanced up, eyes red but alert. There was a hardness there now, a defensive glare that hadn't been there before.

I raised my hands slowly, palms open. "Look, I know you probably don't understand me, but I need you to know I didn't... I didn't harm him."

Great start, Alexis. Real smooth.

He said something in his language–a sharp, clipped phrase that I couldn't hope to decipher. But the tone was clear enough: distrust, accusation.

"Okay, okay," I murmured, nodding slowly. I pointed to the armor I was wearing, then to the photos in his hand. "Your friend," I said softly. Then I mimed sleep, pressing my hands together against my cheek and closing my eyes. After a moment, I shook my head slowly, trying to convey the finality.

His eyes followed my gestures, a flicker of realization crossing his face. He looked back down at the photos, his jaw tightening.

"I found him," I continued, pointing to myself, then miming walking and stumbling upon something. "He was already gone." I pressed a fist over my heart, hoping he'd understand the gesture of respect. "I'm sorry."

He stared at me for a long moment, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, he looked away, his gaze distant. The anger seemed to ebb slightly, replaced by a profound sadness.

I exhaled slowly. At least he doesn't look like he's about to attack me. I sat down a few feet away, giving him space but staying close enough to show I wasn't afraid.

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"I tried to... give him a proper send-off," I added quietly, not sure why I felt the need to keep talking.

He glanced at me, then back at the photos. Gently, he traced a finger over one of the faces, a faint smile ghosting over his lips before fading.

The silence stretched between us. I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for something–anything–to say or do that might bridge the gap.

An idea sparked. I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the diary again. Flipping to a blank page, using the pen, and laying the diary open on the ground between us, I drew a simple figure–a stick man with spiky hair to represent me. Next to it, I drew another figure lying down, eyes closed.

He watched me carefully, his eyes flicking between the drawing and my face.

I pointed to myself, then to the stick figure standing. "Me." Then I pointed to the other figure. "Your friend."

He nodded slowly, indicating he was following so far.

I drew a small fire beside the lying figure, with lines to represent flames. Then I gestured widely, mimicking flames rising up.

"Fire," I said, pointing to the drawing. "I... made sure he was at peace."

His eyes narrowed slightly, processing the information. He said something else–this time softer, the edge gone from his voice.

I shrugged apologetically. "I wish I understood you."

He pointed to the drawing, then to the armor I was wearing. He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

I nodded. "Yes, I... took these from him." I patted the armor lightly, then pointed to myself and made a walking gesture. "I needed protection to survive down here." as I showed him the state of myself and the armor.

He seemed to consider this, his gaze thoughtful. After a moment, he reached out and tapped the drawing of the fire, then placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head slightly as he spoke.

⏁⊑⏃⋏☍ ⊬⍜⎍

I took that as a sign of gratitude–or at least acceptance. "You're welcome," I said softly.

We sat there in silence for a while, the tension easing little by little. I offered him some of the dried meat from my pack and this time he accepted without hesitation.

As he ate, I couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope. Maybe we can make this work after all.

After some time, the elf seemed to have calmed down. He glanced over at me, his eyes clearer now, and gestured toward the diary lying beside me.

I picked it up and handed it to him along with the pen. He motioned for me to sit next to him.

I hesitated for a moment, then slowly moved to sit beside him, keeping Exira channeling internally at level 0, just enough to stay alert without straining myself.

The elf opened the diary to a blank page and began writing something. When he finished, he turned the book toward me.

Strange symbols sprawled across the page–an elegant, flowing script that meant absolutely nothing to me. I squinted at it, shaking my head.

"Sorry, I can't read this," I said instinctively, then mentally kicked myself.

Idiot, he doesn't understand you.

He sighed, a hint of frustration flashing in his emerald eyes. A light cough escaped him, and he wiped a speck of blood from the corner of his mouth. Without missing a beat, he flipped to another blank page and began drawing instead.

He sketched five stick figures standing before what looked like a cave entrance. Then he crossed out two of the figures, drawing crude monsters next to them–jagged teeth and claws. I watched as he illustrated a fight, the two figures falling to the creatures.

"Your party?" I mumbled, piecing it together. Realizing I'd spoken aloud, I snapped my mouth shut.

Smooth, Alexis. Real smooth.

He glanced at me but continued drawing. This time, he showed the remaining three stick figures splitting off into different passages, scratching lines through certain entry points. He coughed again, harder this time, a small fleck of blood staining the page. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, undeterred.

I studied the drawings, trying to make sense of them. "So you got separated," I thought aloud. "And the entrance...?"

He drew rocks blocking the cave entrance, emphasizing it with heavy strokes. Then he looked at me, his expression somber.

"Blocked off," I murmured. "Figures."

He wasn't done yet. The elf drew a mountain with waves at its base, then added circles deep beneath the waves, pointing to our current location. I stared at the drawing, my brain working overtime.

"Wait... are we underwater?" I blurted out, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't understand me.

He looked at me, eyes meeting mine, and nodded slowly.

"Well, shit," I whispered, running a hand through my hair. "Trapped under the damn ocean."

He tapped the drawing again, then pointed upwards, mimicking a climbing motion with his hand.

I nodded. "So there's a way up through the mountain?" I asked, half-hoping he'd miraculously understand.

He seemed to catch my meaning, giving a slight nod.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Great. Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse."

He watched me carefully, perhaps sensing my frustration. I glanced at him, noting the exhaustion etched into his features.

"Alright," I said, nodding more to myself than to him. "Guess we're in this together."

He offered a faint smile, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

I pointed to the diary, then to the map he'd drawn. "This helps. Thanks."

He inclined his head, acknowledging the gesture.

An awkward silence settled between us. I fiddled with the edge of my sleeve, the fabric rough against my fingertips. "So, uh, what's your name?" I asked out of habit, then chuckled softly at my own stupidity. "Right. Language barrier."

He tilted his head, curious.

I pointed to myself. "Alexis," I said slowly. "Al-ex-is."

Understanding flashed in his eyes. He pointed to me. "Alexis," he repeated, his accent giving the name a melodic lilt.

I smiled. "Yeah."

He touched his chest, about to speak, but a rough cough cut him off. I waited as he caught his breath.

He tried again. "El'Serith," he said softly.

"el-ser-ITH," I echoed. "El'Seriith, It’s nice to meet you, really"

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