FEL
After lunch, I go to the river to fish. My two-pointed spear is ready, and my bait may surprise you. But I’m not here to find fish, but crayfish and river crabs, so my bait is simply a handful of raw meat scraps, scattered on the ground. I then sit back and relax.

Sure enough, a few hours later, the number of crabs in my basket is ten, enough to feed both of us for three days. My fishing work is done.







***
It’s deep night when I hear the voices. Voices of a boy about thirteen, and a girl perhaps my age.

“Shiroi....what are we doing here? We were meant to search only the west part of Gravenorth! Why are we in Alisor?” says the boy.

“For heaven’s sake, Solles. The Halflord’s men were cornering us. There was nowhere else to go.” The girl’s voice now.

I sit up in my sleeping bag, instantly alert. The voices are closer and approaching our tree, and I turn to see two figures keeping a low profile. They emerge from the surrounding forest and creep to the shelter of our tree.

Clearly they aren’t the Halflord’s men, but they could still be our enemies. There are many sides in the current war.

I consider this, then grab my quiver and bow from their nook in the branches. Notching an arrow takes only a second, and I leap from the tree.

The moment I land, I swivel to find a boy and girl staring at me. I quickly pull out my spear from my belt and hold it up. “Who are you?”

The boy stands up. He wears a light brown cloak, a variety of horrendous knives is tucked into his belt, and his armor appears to be made of wolfhide. A mask covers his face from the nose down. Bandages wrap his leg, but they are stained slightly red.

He speaks, his voice slightly metallic somehow. “You can put the spear down now, unless you’re from the Halflord.”

I can’t trust them, even if they aren’t the Halflord’s men. “Where are you from?”

The girl steps out of the shadows of our home and my eyes widen, as this girl is clearly not ordinary at all. Her skin is pale gray, two braids of pitch, deep black hair draping over her shoulders. Two deep gray cat ears poke from beneath her hair. A slim tail waves behind her. Claws, not nails, end her fingers, three of which are bent oddly and wrapped in leaves. A long cut streaks across her face.

“We’re from Dreyeken. Can’t you see? I’m a Clawer. My name is Shiroi. This is Solles, a Masked One.” She gestures to her friend, who nods calmly.
“Impossible.” I say. “You might be a Clawer, but his race swore not to leave Dreyeken until the war was over. And it’s not. So I can’t trust what you say.”

“Fel?”

I hear Storm’s voice call from the tree. Solles narrows his eyes and looks up as Storm leaps down, dagger in hand.

“Look;” says Shiroi with a sigh. “We were sent from Dreyeken by our lord Silthar, and told not to return until we knew that the war was over. And it’s not. So we can’t go back. So please, just-um, if you have some food, could you please just give us a little to eat and we’ll leave?”

I ponder their statement for a moment. Perhaps I can trust them-but perhaps not.
I see Storm lower his knife, and my spear descends and rests on the earth as well.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I can’t trust you-you have no proof that you are who you say you are.”

Guilt flickers in my stomach more then a little as my eyes wander to their bandages. It’s true, they are badly injured. Unless it’s trick.

Shiroi nods understandingly and turns to go. Solles follows.

“It could have been a trick, Fel.” says Storm quietly- he obviously sees that I feel much remorse for turning away two injured kids our age.

I look at him for few short minutes as Solles and Shiroi disappear into the trees, Solles limping the whole way.

“Yeah.” I say.

But that’s not really what I’m thinking.