Cole had reached the third day. The fourth and final day was approaching. He had spent multiple hours running around town and was beginning to lose hope. He had his dreams crushed many times as he encountered several longhouses, but couldn't tell the wood apart. He knew nothing about trees. He couldn't tell oak from elm to save himself.
He paced down the streets, knocking on any longhouse he saw. He had lowered his expectations but was still left disappointed when he didn't find a Winterbell. Cole had given up. He knocked on the door of the next longhouse he saw and waited. He heard the door open but kept his head down.
"Hey, buddy," A female voice said. "Are you lost?"
Cole looked up. It was an Elf. He wasn't excited, as it wasn't the first one he saw. "I... I guess I am." He inspected the Elf in front of him. She was somewhat big and around the same height as he was. She had tan skin, brown hair tied in a ponytail, and amber eyes. She wore a leather coat that was colored green and had yellow accents, along with a patch of brown leather that covered the upper part of her breasts. The collar extended to cover her neck.
She looked back into the house. Cole noticed a small part of a scar on the side of her head. The Elf looked back at Cole. "We are accepting visitors, so feel free to come in!" She stepped to the side and let Cole enter the longhouse. In the middle of the living room was a large oval table. Numerous Elves, wearing the same coat, sat at the table. Cole walked over to the table with the female Elf he met. All of the people sitting at the table turned to look at Cole.
"We have a guest," She said. "He's lost so I thought he might feel okay being around good people. His name is..." She looked at Cole.
"I'm..." He wanted to say his true name, but something kept him from doing so. "My name is Cole."
A huge man with shaggy black hair stood up. His mean appearance contrasted with his smile. "You bringing Humans in here, Zephyr?" He said. The man walked up to Cole and held out his hand. It looked like he wore a gauntlet made of titanium. "I'm Atlas, Steel Fist of the West. It's nice to meet you."
Cole shook his hand. "How did you die? You look strong."
"Overwhelmed and executed," Atlas replied. "You?"
"Beheaded in battle," Cole said.
"Now that's a way to go out!" Atlas chuckled. He gave Cole a light punch on the shoulder. "You must've been a good fighter if you were granted a beheading."
"Thanks..." Cole looked over at the female Elf. "Her name is Zephyr?" He thought to himself. "Where have I heard that before?" He then decided to speak out. "Your name is Zephyr?" He asked.
"Yep," She responded.
"I swear I've heard that name before but can't remember where..."
"I'm well known in the West, although not for the best reason." She lifted the hair on the side of her head. There was a large scar the size of a crossbow bolt underneath. "Got shot in the head while I was hunting rabbits."
"Assassinated..." Cole knew there was some kind of connection, but couldn't figure it out. "Ugh..." He groaned. "I know I've heard of you somewhere but I just can't think of where."
Zephyr and Atlas looked at each other. "Let's just tell him," Atlas suggested.
"Yeah," Zephyr replied. She walked up to Cole and got his attention. She turned around and lifted her ponytail. It was covering an odd tattoo on the back of her neck: Four arrows broken twice to form a symbol that somehow reminded Cole of beast claws. Atlas followed by rolling up the sleeve of his coat. He had a tattoo of a hand on his forearm. The four fingers on top were broken and bent, yet somewhat resembled the same shape of Zephyr's tattoo. "Look familiar?" Atlas asked.
