Upbringing

Chapter 3

I heard a sickening crack as I slammed against the wall and slid down the rough surface. I felt for my ribs; most probably broken, but at least I wasn't dead. I whimpered slightly and dragged my gaze up. I felt the need to gasp, but my lungs wouldn't allow it - instead issuing a hacking cough that racked my body. When I met my savior's eyes, dread pooled in the pit of my stomach as I came face to face with the star of elven children's nightmares and horror stories: a human general. Concern melted from her features to be replaced with a steely gaze as she realizes who she had saved; I should have known she'd never intentionally rescue an elf. 

I picked myself up and inched away from her, backing up against the newly formed wall now separating me from the freedom I had taken for granted. The way she looked at me cut deeper than any physical injury - as if I was nothing more than a bloodthirsty monster. Why it mattered so much, I wasn't sure. Why did I care what she thought of me? It wasn't as if she had given me much reason to like her. After all, she was part of the human party who had murdered the Magma Titan in cold blood and would undoubtedly kill me now. 

Sure enough, she reached for the sword sheathed at her hip, drawing the blade with a soft shink and holding it inches from my face. Maybe she thought that she was showing me mercy because I was a child and that one of the other humans wouldn't dispatch me as quickly - I didn't know. At that moment, all I knew was pure terror. Even if she spared me, the others wouldn't, wherever they were. However, one thing put me off. The cave-in had been loud enough to wake a hibernating banther, so where were her fellow humans? 

Raising the weapon above her head, poised to finish me off, I saw the first flicker of emotion behind her eyes and she hesitated. It was as if a part of her - as small as it may have been - knew this was wrong. The scariest moment was watching her will herself to do it, to strike me down, but I could see her internal battle, and when push came to shove, her softer side won . . . Because when one person hurts another, then that person hurts them back, it becomes a cycle that never ends. 

The sword slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor. She sunk to her knees, like a defeated warrior, but all I saw was a hero who had enough valor to spare the innocent. Holding my ribs, I scrambled for the tunnel exit, certain I would be met by soldiers and even more pain on the other side.