drawls from the back of his horse, breaking the tense atmosphere. Snorting, Vaeril signals for us to start walking again.
Our horses fall into line behind Vaeril, not really requiring much direction from me, so I let my mind wander. Nudges against my mind have me opening my senses once again, and I smile as I’m welcomed back. I was right, the trees here are old, millennia old, and have many stories to tell. The closer we get to the wood elves, the deeper within the trees’ consciousness I seem to delve.
“Clarissa. Alina.”
The voice makes me blink, and I get the impression from his frustrated tone that this wasn’t the first time he’s called me. I look around and realise we’ve come to a stop, and I frown as I wonder why. Glancing over at Naril, I see he’s facing forward, his eyes focused on something, and I notice Vaeril is doing the same. Gazing over the top of my horse’s head, I see an elf standing between two trees, blocking our path.
He’s not like any elf I’ve ever seen before. He’s dark, tall, and has willowy limbs, and as I look closer, I see his brown skin looks more like bark than flesh. He’s wearing what looks like leaves and a cloak of moss. Pointed ears poke through his shoulder-length brown hair, and he has an angular chin and sharp cheekbones. He has all the unearthly beauty of the fae, but he has soft kind eyes, which happen to be locked on me. I have the strangest feeling, like I’ve known this elf all my life, but I know for certain I’ve never seen him before.
“Welcome home, youngling.” His voice is like the rustle of leaves in the breeze, soft yet powerful. My heart slams in my chest as he repeats what the trees whispered into my mind. How does he know who I am? We hadn’t sent any warning that we were coming, the decision was only made the night before we left Galandell, so how could he know?
Holding the reins in one hand, I dismount my horse, pat her on the neck gently, and whisper my thanks to her for my safe journey before taking a few steps closer to the wood elf. The others do the same, not worrying about tying up the horses or fearing they might wander away. During our journey, they explained that their horses are different than the ones the humans use. While looking similar, they are very intelligent and have a willpower of their own.
I stop just a few steps from the elf, knowing I’m supposed to wait for Vaeril to introduce us, but I need to know something. “How did you know we were coming?”
Naril groans at my breach in protocol, but the elf in front of us just smiles, his eyes still locked on me. “The trees told me,” is his simple reply, as if this answers everything. Which, I guess, knowing what I know now about this forest, could very well be true.
Vaeril clears his throat and takes a step forward. “Speaker Hawthorn,” he greets, lowering his head in the salutation the elves seem to favour as the elf turns his attention to him. I watch in interest as the wood elf, Speaker Hawthorn, observes impassively. “My name is Lord Vaeril, and we come from Galandell with the hope you can help my friend.”
There’s a pause as the older elf seems to think on Vaeril’s words, his demeanour changing completely from the happy, open elf he’d been on our arrival. He’s not unfriendly, but there is a definite wariness there as he looks over the two lords. Eventually, he nods slowly. “I remember you. You’re the elf who was captured.” I swear I see a hint of sympathy in his eyes, but it’s gone in a blink.
Vaeril shifts his weight on his feet, and I glance over, expecting to see an uncomfortable expression on his face, but he’s wearing his usual neutral mask he wears around the castle. “Yes. My mate helped me escape.” He gestures to me, and the speaker follows his arm to look at me again, his expression warming into a smile.
A loud cough fills the small clearing, and with a frown, I look over at Naril, who’s wearing an innocent expression. Attempting to hide his smile, Vaeril gestures first at his friend and then to me. “This is my companion, Lord Naril, and my mate, Clarissa.”
The look of disinterest that the speaker gives Naril nearly