The Unknown Elf

Two

ARTIFICIAL LIGHT FILLED the room, shining off pale walls and blinds. The light fell on what little furniture adorned the place. A nightstand stood to the left of the bed, a small table in the far corner, and a chair to the right. Clarence sat there and stared at the covered windows. They were right next to the door where a small cubicle of curtained off space filled the other half of the room. He drummed fingers on one knee and shifted position, staring now at the bed's occupant.

For some reason, he found he was fascinated by the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. Despite that fascination, he looked at her with some suspicion. After all, it wasn't every day that any elf dared go outside without some semblance of descent clothing, let alone a human. Only those who were crazy even attempted such a thing. She must be either crazy or desperate, and desperate people did desperate things. In his experience, only desperate people, like criminals, turned to such extremes.

Perhaps this was the one they all feared would come. Maybe she was some wayward youth who'd run away. Or, perhaps, she was the one who would destroy everything they'd spent centuries building. All things considered, that was the most likely, especially when one took into account the timing of events. It was also possible that she was one who had broken into all those Observer Stations. The person had left nary a trace behind, other than a few tales and shadows to speculate over. Of course, she might just be a criminal running from the law. Or, maybe, she was that phantom who'd been sending them threatening letters since last October.

Those who are hunted also run, his heart tried to say but he silenced it. "Hunted by the authorities, no doubt," he told himself.

Clarence wished he'd been there during the few moments she'd been awake, even though it had only been a short amount of time. He'd had other duties he'd needed to take care of, not that anything had come of those few minutes. Nothing he knew about at any rate. Apparently the girl had been too incoherent to determine anything during that brief interview. Despite that, he had a feeling that today would be his lucky day. This had to be the day when she would finally wake up and know what was going on around her, and be able to confirm his fears.

The girl stirred in her sleep, murmuring something he couldn't catch. No, she didn't look like a criminal, but few did, he reflected. She looked about the age when most youth went against the grain of the law. He guessed seventeen at the oldest. Still, it was better to err on the side of caution than on just looks.

The moment she was awake, he'd question her. After that, he'd contact the proper authorities, despite of what the others might say. He would not let the past repeat itself. They couldn't afford to take any chances, forget that it wasn't his place or responsibility. It didn't matter that Santa and Dena had told him to leave this one alone, that he had no business even being there. Regardless of that fact, he would have his answers, one way or another. He just hoped it would be sooner than anyone else.

Marie began to show signs of waking, with her long eyelashes beginning to twitch with the effort. She exhaled, and then drew in a deep breath, her nose wrinkling. A faint smile traced across her delicate lips. Maybe she was just coming out of a pleasant dream. Kudos to her, Clarence thought sarcastically. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since he'd brought her in. It had been no picnic to drag her corpse-like body across the frozen ice to the nearest Subway entrance. It was even less fun to cart her to North Pole City and Rachel's care.

Marie's eyes fluttered open but refused to focus, nor did she know if she wanted them to do so. Wisps of dream still clung to them, a scene of peace. It was something she hadn't had in a long time. However, her eyes reacted before she could decide to let them. The image of a man unfolded in front of her, one that looked far too familiar. She let out a fearful sound that could almost be called a scream. Tearing the bedding away from her body, she scrambled for the wall in a blind panic. Her heart pounded, lungs pumping like a billows as adrenaline ran like wild fire in her veins. She felt him reach for her with hands of steel and anticipated the sound of a gun being fired. "No! No! Don't do it! Don't!" Her arms flew out, trying to ward off her attacker, pushing him over with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs.