A young elf dashed between the two thick, white trees, the gap between the towering structures seeming endless, the shadows cowering towards the building in fear of being caught, giving the elf shelter from the patrolling soldiers. He dived silently into the darkness, his heart resounding with the marching steps of the warriors searching for others like him, other survivors of the Final Massacre, other Elves. He desperately tried to quiet his breathing as three warriors marched by the tree he was hiding behind, cowering within the intertwining, tortuous roots, shaking as if the surrounding area was within a tumultuous earthquake that only affected the young, helpless elf.

I have to get to the docks, he thought to himself, I have to get away from here, away from this danger… but how? This imperative did present a grueling challenge to the young elf. These woods expanded for another five miles, the open prairie separating the forest from the silver sands of the shore another three. That was eight miles that lay before him, a longer trek than he could comprehend in itself, let alone with men and those… black, soot smelling, red-eyed things resembling wolves blocking his path. But he had to, this he knew. He had to… if there were other survivors like him; he wanted to reunite with another elf, any other elf. He made this resolve to himself silently. I am the prince… I must live on to restore my kingdom….

By some miracle, the young elf was able to traverse one and a half miles within the hours that he had before nightfall. Although, now, another problem presented itself to the young prince. How am I to get a hold of any food? Although he was not as helpless as the horribly pampered aristocracy found within any Human monarchy, he was helpless within this now hostile territory. “This is my kingdom,” the elf said with a moan, “this should not be happening…. Why do I have to think of it this way?” He waited remorsefully for the answer that would not come. At that moment, the realization sank in deep into his cold, silky, pale skin. He was alone. For the first time in the twelve years, he was alone. The revelation caused tears to stain his fair complexion. Before he even realized it, the young elf was sobbing silently into the tree, instincts of survival and mourning mixing with each other in his time of misery and confusion.

He mourned the situation for almost half an hour. Regaining his composure, he dried the glistening, salty tears still lingering on his cheeks, wiping his nose slightly. The elf then peeked cautiously around the tree he had taken sanctuary under, his gaze focusing upon the lit window of a dwelling built into a nearby fir tree. What once might have housed a small but joyous family of Elves was now occupied by a group of soldiers from the force that had invaded the region.

From the windowsill came a soldier, still clad in his leather cap and armor, apparently finished with patrolling for the day. His attention was upon a fellow soldier within the dwelling, laughing at a joke unheard by the young elf, who looked hungrily at the remains of a roasted chicken. Most of the meat had been picked dry from the chicken, the skin hanging off the edges of its legs and wings, a few partial morsels within the confines of the rib cage.

It occurred to the young elf that the soldier dumped the engorged remains of the bird onto the ground. It occurred to him that he should be offended, dirtying the sacred ground of his kingdom with disgusting table scraps. Yet… it also occurred to the young elf that he had not eaten since the attack, he had been to busy fleeing for his life from these horrid invaders, maybe even the very soldiers that were within the tree dwelling at this very moment. So when the meat and bones crashed to the ground upon the cool, flattened grass and soil, he dispelled all thoughts from his mind and lunged toward the food, however small it was. Despite the dirt covering the carcass, it tasted wonderful. Anything would taste wonderful after a horrendous hike through trees, bushes, and occupied checkpoints.

He pressed his back against the bark underneath the window sill, listening to the warrior’s conversation as he picked at the scraps of food. He was only able to understand portions of their chatter, having only a faint grasp of the human tongue and its rough, guttural sounds. One word they used that caught his attention was the word ‘Hellhound.’ In the elf’s year of instruction on the Human language, he had never before heard a word such as that.

As he was attempting to decipher the meaning of the peculiar word, two red-eyes stared at the elf from the shadows ahead of him, a snarl being their only address to him. It had followed the smell of the chicken to his very point but instead found a much more filling prey. The boy froze in his spot, staring back into the red eyes of the beast, immobile with fear and trembling with hatred. This was one of those… things, those things that had torn apart and devoured his people and charred the buildings. This… was a Hellhound.

The elf could not move. He just sat there, his mouth gaping open, ready to scream if only a sound could be uttered from his constricted throat, fear taking hold of his neck and shortening his breath. After much growling, the Hellhound finally lunged at the elf, aspiring to tear out the throat contained within that long, slender neck of his. At that very crucial moment, the elf gained control of his limbs once again and rolled to the side, the Hellhound missing its target and crashing into the tree with a loud and pitiful yelp.

The raucous was heard from within the dwelling, the guards arose from their elegant, elaborate seats to check up on the commotion outside. By the time they opened the door and peered outside, the elf was already dashing far ahead of them on his agile legs. The Hellhound shook its head, saliva flying from its mouth, before it turned towards the direction of the fleeing elf, giving chase with a horrid blood lust in hit eyes, a terrifying growl emanating from its throat.

The soldiers watched the red and black blur run past them, not knowing who or what it was giving chase to. One soldier turned to the other and shrugged. “Must have missed catching a squirrel or some other damn rodent.” A nod from his comrade was the only reply received as they returned to the seats of the occupied dwelling, ignorant of the fact that the last elf was only a short horse ride away from their grasp.