The English translation of the Wattpad Featured & Wattys 2015 Winner story.
... And the moment you allow that tiny evil enter your heart, the moment you act in a manner unbefitting your race, the moment you start complaining about life - they...
The Eale? They are the black, barbarous version of the Alae.
Anlimor "fish" guide to a tourist
After passing the Military District, Aniallu found herself above the Gray Streams Square. It was deserted and dusty, with a tiny murmuring fountain smack in the middle. The sianae dropped altitude, gliding slowly across the square, and dove beneath the arch of a hoary hawthorn that concealed this miserable place. Alu's eyes were immediately splashed with just about every shade of fire: the street that opened up before her was lined with flame-red maples. Mighty boughs coiled like black serpents in the blazing leafage. Here and there bird nests hung from them, looking like gigantic chestnuts of peculiar green.
Old Maple Street had gotten its name from its very inception, having been built several millennia ago by cats that had migrated to Briaellar from Al Emenayit – the Great Forest. The name was meant to evoke the illusion that they had been living here since time immemorial, being an indispensable element of the city, its ancient history and culture, and not some half-savage foreigners that had only yesterday – literally! – climbed down from trees.
Years had passed, and today you could hardly imagine Briaellar without House an Al Emenayit, which had become one of the city's largest and most influential clans. Still, the fact that the city had accepted these woodland felines didn't necessarily mean that they had fully accepted it: to this day the Eale had a rather dismal outlook of the "civilized" way of life, with its large congregations of incongruous creatures, the noise and the crowds, the social etiquette, diplomatic nonsense, dirty politics and other such toxic behavior. Which was why Old Maple Street featured nary a shop, hotel or restaurant.
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Here the woodland silence reigned supreme, perforated ever so rarely by the call of a bird or the rustle of a predator stalking in the grass. On either side of the black pavement stretched less-than-properly-cultivated gardens. Low houses squatted deep within the growths, like giant tree stumps with hats of dark moss on top. Here and there mighty roots emerged on the surface, girdling the ovals of meadows and flowerbeds, pools and footworn training grounds.
The long street wound gently this way and that, ending in the high gates of Castle an Al Emenayit. The Eale's love affair with their native woods was reflected in this, their adopted dwelling in Briaellar, which closely resembled their familiar arboreal world. It stood in stark contrast with the castles of elves, where living branches and flowers had been supplanted by ornate fretwork and embroidery, and the lighting – perhaps nature's greatest gift – by magic lights and similar artificial constructs. Their multi-storied lair was no sham or cheap surrogate for the forest, no. Though bustling with wizardry, it lived and breathed nature – wild and savage and beautiful, incorporating even the magic element into itself.
As Aniallu flew through the street, the living building rose gradually from the ground, its gargantuan bulk unfolding before the sianae in all its grim grandeur, the embodiment of harmonious austerity. In essence, it was a grove of ancient, colossal trees that had been transplanted here from the Great Forest. Crowding the interior of the castle enclosure, the giants nonetheless differed from one another in height and complexion: from pudgy blureias that swelled exorbitantly the closer they got to the ground, with spreading ashen tentacles for roots that made the trunks look like octopus heads, to tall and lean artejians aka "dragon pines," their fire-colored trunks propping up the night sky like fretted pillars. Each wore bark of its own unique pattern and hue: some were clothed in scales or gleaming metal; others bristled with millions of sharp spikes that had become graveyards to carless insects; others still were perfectly smooth and striped like the side of a watermelon... Perhaps the most distinctive genus looked as if some great conqueror had been nailing bears of vanquished enemies to it for many centuries. Some shunned neighbors, while others embraced them, interweaving their trunks and branches to form bridges, gates and gazebos. Where one sort boasted fanciful bends of massive horny hands, another countered with veritable waterfalls of aerial roots or fruits that hung low like heavy earrings.
