Tales from the Woodfolk: A collection of short stories

Lair of the Dark Elf - Part 5: Into the Cave

"Do you always hide here on your own?"

A little girl of about seven or six threw the question to the young boy roughly around her age. It landed a few paces from his hunched stature, the last of its clear chimes dissipating into the sweet air. 

Petals of lavender were drizzling from the high green skies as her voice swam to his ears through the fresh air. He looked up from his book, sheaves of waxed sundried bark bound with fine willow string. They were seated atop a high branch. To adult onlookers twice their size, however, it would look relatively low.

The boy's eyes sparkled with surprise, sun-gold dapples twinkling in their irises, but the hazel light was quickly hidden by a shade of hesitation.

"...Have you been hiding there all this time?"

The girl's cheeks flushed pink with strawberries. She hadn't expected him to notice anything. For the past few days she had seen him lurking near her lair – no one else other than herself was supposed to know about the treehouse she had made from fallen twigs and clay, a personal feat she was quite proud of.

It was just two days before that he had started sitting by the porch of her tiny treehouse, balancing the same book on his knee with his chin perched on his left palm, freckled face buried in the grainy symbols. There wasn't anything strange about him, really, except for the fact that he liked to sit away from the others even though they often beckoned him to join them in games. In fact, she quite partook in the pleasure of sharing her treehouse, or meeting another who liked climbing trees as well...though, she didn't know what to say.

Not even now.

The boy looked up and met her eyes once more, having mustered what seemed like a mountain of courage.

The light from the noonday sun began to filter through the luscious foliage, leaving translucent dapples that bloomed and swayed gently like daffodils on the branches.

"My name's Cullen. What's yours?"

He threw back another question like how one would a ball in a warming game. It landed softly on her palms, sending vibrations in her skipping heart.

"Anita."

A daffodil landed on her cheek, and it spread with the rippling of its surface. The girl felt the most peculiar feeling and realised that she was smiling. The boy smiled back.

~

That was years ago, when they had still been Children of Steel Dust.

With pear-shaped marks carved into their tender skins, they had moved on from that stage into young adulthood.

Anita felt for the scab on her left shoulder blade, touching its gauze-like overlay.

Despite the insistence of their traditions to move on from the past, some memories cannot be forgotten. Though some might fade, a considerable number stay behind in full face after leaving a deep enough etching.

Wherever one might go.

The stars have come out by now. They had travelled for the entire day, having crossed precarious streams and trekked steep regions with bursts of flight and foot. Finally, they had reached the vicinity of the Tree Castle of Modriel, but as the sky had cooled to a pale blue by then, it was decided they make rest and continue their quest at the first light of dawn.

Setting temporary camp by a nearby moss-ridden log, they found warmth and water under the log's veil of Petunia leaves. Though Kris insisted to be the watchman for the night, Anita found herself unable to drift, slipping in and out of the curtain of sleep. Sneaking from her leaf-bed, she took to the log-roof and embraced the cool breeze.