Page 222 of Fallen Nocturne

The frog doesn’t respond and that’s when I notice where we are.

There’s a massive fallen log covered in moss and mushrooms, and sitting on that log is an elf. His hair is long, silver-white, streaked with darker gray.

I can tell he is one of the High Elves. His clothes are beautiful and pristine. He wears a deep forest-green tunic with intricate embroidery along the collar and cuffs, and leather armor covers his chest and shoulders. It’s the kind my uncle wears, well-made and clearly expensive. He looks like he just stepped out of a palace instead of walking through a forbidden forest.

Nothing about him belongs in Astefar. Everything looks untouched and perfect.

Except his eyes.

Those deep brown eyes seem weary. He looks tired.

The frog hops over to the log and sits right next to the High Elf’s boot.

Is it his pet?

I stand there for a moment, stick still in my hand, not sure what to do. Should I run or stay or ask about my fish or—

“Hello, little one,” the stranger says. His voice is gentle and kind. I haven’t heard a voice like that in so long.

“Hello,” I whisper back.

“That’s quite a chase you gave the frog.” There’s amusement in his tone. “I’ve been watching. You’re very determined.”

My face heats. “He ate my fish.”

“I saw.”

“I caught it fair and square in my trap,” I say, more forcefully now. “He just took it!”

“Frogs do that sometimes,” the High Elf says.

The frog croaks, apparently agreeing with him.

I glare at it. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” the High Elf says. “It’s not.”

I should say no and run away. Lady Deirdre always said not to talk to strangers, especially not strange warriors who appear out of nowhere looking perfect.

But I’m hungry and sad. The High Elf doesn’t feel dangerous. He just feels sad like me.

So I walk over slowly and climb onto the log carefully. I make sure the frog sits between us, just in case.

We sit in silence.

This is weird…

But it’s also nice and peaceful. Finally, I work up the courage to speak.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

The stranger looks at me with raised brows.

“Your face,” I explain. “You look tired.”

He stares at me for a beat. Then he smiles. It’s a sad smile.

“You’re very perceptive for one so young,” he says, studying me with renewed interest.