“Move it, lowlife!” I hear a kettle-helmed city guard yell out to me as I try to navigate my way through the clamoring, crowded melee that is the market town streets.

“Hey!” I call out as I feel my back and shoulders shoved by the blunt end of his spear as he ushers me along, “Don’t you have actual crimes to be stopping instead of beating me around to get your fix of power for the day? Asshole…” Scoffing at him, I do my best to brush it aside and continue on my way, trying to find a moment to regain myself as I reach down into my satchel and pull out a rolled up piece of paper.

“I freaking hate this place…” I mutter under my breath as I unroll the page. It bears a pencil sketch of a leaf-shaped potion bottle filled with a luminescent, viscous liquid, “Alright, miracle plant elixir. Miracle plant elixir…” I look around to see if I can find any stalls among the many vendors that may have what I need, but I can hardly make out a thing through the bustling noise and stampeding crowds that push their way through the streets, all clearly too busy to even notice what’s happening around them.

“Hey— you looking for plant elixir?” I hear a gristled, nasally voice call out of me. I look up to see a ratchety man in a tattered brown cloak approaching me. I plan to dismiss him and move on, but before I can even get a word out he’s on me, “I think I got just what’cha need, friend - just have a look!”

He shoves a bag of various goods towards me as I look down into it, more out of instinct than cognitive choice.

“What are you talking about? There’s no plant elixir in here— wait!” I quickly reach for my satchel but I’m too late, it’s already gone along with the cloaked man, having disappeared into the mob never to be seen again.

“Auughhh!” I scream out in frustration — the market town is just about my least favorite place in the entire country, yet I find myself coming back again and again because it’s the only place that has what I need.

“Screw this, I’m going home. Can’t buy anything with no money anyway.” I think to myself, already being overwhelmed by the constant noise and shoving without having to be robbed on top of it. But as I try to turn around and walk away, something catches my attention; it’s very quiet, nearly inaudible over all the clamor, but I can faintly make out the sound of tears coming from behind an empty market stall.

I force my way through the crowd until I can get a better view, and there I see behind the stall a small kobold girl about four feet tall, looking to be around somewhere just short of her early twenties, only a bit younger than myself. She’s a light, pastel-blue color with a white belly and undertail, and she has two small white horns poking out atop her head.

Already, I’m caught off guard because I almost never see kobolds outside of the forest, and when I do see them it’s because they’re being chased away by the guards for nicking a piece of half-dried steak off of some sour-faced old butcher in the middle of town. But kobolds move on packs, and not once have I seen one out on their own — and I’ve certainly never seen one in her state.

Her skin is bruised and beaten, her horns and nails are scratched and chipped, and she’s wearing nothing save for a worn-out, pink lace bra and matching set of equally ragged underwear — they appear to be of human make, which immediately strikes me as strange because most kobolds I’ve seen wear forest-made cloths and leathers, always looking a little ratchety since they don’t have access to the same tools that humans do.

I take a couple quiet steps forward, trying not to make a lot of noise, as she seems to be locked pretty heavy into fight-or-flight mode. I’ve never spoken to a kobold before and I constantly overhear the guards talking about how they’re nothing but greedy, thieving pests; and yet, I find myself feeling empathy for her — she looks scared and she’s out here all alone, without a soul in sight that even seems to so much as acknowledge her very existence.

Stepping just a hair closer, I kneel down to get to her level, “Excuse me, miss — are you alright?”

Immediately her eyes open wide with shock and she scrambles to her feet, her breathing short, quick, and sharp.

“L-leave me alone!” She cries out in a teary, weak voice, clearly terrified. Retreating as far back as she can get, she’s stopped when she backs into the cold stone bricks of the market town walls. She looks around for an exit but finds herself cornered by the other market booths on either side of her.

Seeing no option but to beg for mercy, she crouches down and hides her face with her hands, hyperventilating intensely as tears flood her face, “P-please,” she takes several quick, labored breaths between each word, “j-j-just go away!”

My heart breaks to see her so petrified and I feel awful for scaring her more, but I can’t just leave her here all on her own in this state — the best she could hope for out here is that she’d get lucky and some guard would kill quickly, and if that doesn’t happen she’d get kidnapped by some low-life piece of shit who would keep her as a slave.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I slowly and carefully reach out a hand in an attempt to calm her, though I’m shaking a bit myself, “Hey, hey hey hey hey hey hey—” trying to speak with the cadence of a mother whose child has just awoken from a nightmare, I gently continue, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m not gonna turn you in to the guards.” I look around to make sure none are watching, my heart beating out of my chest with anxiety about the whole situation.

“No— no!” she shakes her head vigorously as she continues to cower, “I just want to be alone! Leave me be!”

I take a couple steps back as I let her try to regain herself, doing my best to respect her wishes, but still fearful of what might happen to her if she decides to run away. After a moment, I reach into my pocket and slowly slide a small packet toward her — a flat and thin thing wrapped with brown paper and tied loosely with hempen twine, “Here…”

She continues to shake, but she opens one eye hesitantly and peers at it, “W-what is it…? I-is it a trap!?” She covers her face again and she cowers against the wall, clearly lost in a state of panic and paranoia — though the latter is debatable, as her fears are certainly not unfounded.

“It’s a healing salve. I always carry an extra one in case of emergencies… but I think you need it more than me.”

Extremely cautiously, she reaches out and grabs it, quickly pulling it in as soon as he has ahold of it before closing herself off again. She glances up at me and then down at the packet, and up again, and down again. Trembling, she takes a shaky hand slowly begins unwrapping it. She carefully undoes the twine, and then begins to pull off the paper, leaping back into a defensive stance as she does so, shielding herself from any potential attacks.

After a moment of bracing herself, she slowly begins to open her eyes once again to see a linen bandage medicated with a blue, glowing, honey-like substance.

“It’s moonbell — the healy plant.” I chuckle a bit to try to ease the tension, “It won’t hurt you. I promise.”

She looks up at me, still shivering a bit, but not trembling nearly as hard as before, “I know. I know what moonbell is. I used to grow them…”

My eyes light up, “Really? I do too! Which is your favorite kind? I think crescent moonbell looks really cool, but full moonbell is better for wound care.”

She looks down at the salve and tentatively begins to wrap it around her forehead where she bears several cuts and scrapes, wiping the blood before tying it off. She looks at me one more time. With a meek tone, she says, “W…why are you being nice to me?” What tiny bit she had begun to open up is immediately taken back as she shields herself, “I-is it so I’ll owe you favors!?” She trips over her words as she tightens her stance, “O-o-or maybe you’re working for them and you’re just trying to lure me back by pretending to be my friend…”

“Wha— favors? Them? What are you— what— n-no! I’m not working for anybody! I just saw you over here and I thought you looked like you could use some help.”

I look at her softly and with concerned eyes; I don’t know what happened to her, but it must have been bad. My thoughts races with a million questions about who the “them” that she’s talking about could be, but for now I put it out of my mind and focus on trying to gain her trust.

“I’m Percival, but everyone calls me Percy. What’s your name?”

She stays silent for a moment, still closed off and trembling, before finally uttering a single word, “…Apple.”

I give her a gentle smile and a little nod, moving slowly so as not to startle her, “Pleased to meet you, Apple. I like that name — it’s unique.”

She gives a very faint smile, “Thanks. I… like your name too.”

I smile back at her, and relax my posture a bit to try and seem friendly and at ease, “Thanks. I don’t know how you managed to get inside the city but I’ll be damned if I’m not impressed — most kobolds don’t last five minutes without being harassed by the guards. They’re total dickwads.” I chuckle again as I smile. As I speak with her, I feel something start to stir inside of me — I’ve only spoken a few words to her, but it’s as if I feel a deep connection already. Perhaps it’s just empathy — she’s in need of help, and I’m trying my best to provide it. But now’s not the time for me to worry about it, I’ll figure these feelings out later.

She frowns as I mention her being inside the city, “I…” she starts to speak before closing herself off again, and she simply says, “Yeah.”

I give her a moment to relax while I think of what to do next. I can’t just leave her here if she’s in trouble, but I don’t want to seem patronizing or like I think she can’t take care of herself. Suddenly, I have an idea.

“Well Apple, I have a friend who works as an herbalist a bit outside of town. You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to, but I’ll let her know that I have a friend in need and see if I can’t persuade her to let go of a few more of her salves and ointments in the event you do happen to stop by. She’s the person who made that one you’re wearing, and there’s really no beating the quality of her stuff. She is simply the best there is.” I smile at her, trying my best to offer help but not to seem like I’m forcing it upon her if she doesn’t want it, “If you do decide to check it out, she lives in the hollowed out oak tree just off the side of the forest trail — the small forest, not the big one without any humans. You’ll wanna turn to the left once you make it to that big gnarled tree about halfway down the path, then just walk forward for a bit and you can’t miss it.”

Feeling okay with leaving her alone and giving her some space, I begin to stand up, but one more thing crosses my mind, “And don’t worry. She’s cool with kobolds.” I give her a warm smile before gently waving her off as I begin to step back out into the crowd, but before I can go, I’m stopped by a small voice that I hear echo out from behind me. I turn to see her standing up, nervously crossing her arms in front of her chest as she stands just slightly bent forward, keeping her guard up but trying to be friendly. Looking up at me with big eyes and a slight blush, I hear her say one last thing before I depart.

“New. My favorite is new moonbell.”