Scant few rays of the setting sun pierced through the dark foliage of Set Ellimaen’s Weave all the way down to the long-neglected forest road. The light was just barely enough to keep to the moss-choked cobbles of the path but far from enough to stave off the damp cold seeping through Kellan’s ragged clothes. Shivering, he pushed onwards, driven by desperation. To be caught out in the Weave during the night without thrice-blest steel would be a death sentence for a grown man. A malnourished stripling brat would barely make a solmfast meal for the fiends that lurked in the unsanct lands beyond the walls.

His only hope to last the night was to plead refuge with the elves of Aelstath, a village rumoured to lie within a day’s journey along the forest road. He desperately hoped the rumours were true. The stone marker at the forest’s edge had indicated thus, but maybe the village was no longer there, or the marker was some heathen trickery to lure travelers like him to their deaths within the Weave, or... There! Through the tangles of hag’s hair and brambles it shone, not the harsh steady blue of sunlight but wavering and golden and warm. People. Hope.

Finding strength in reserve he knew not that he had, Kellan clambered over a fallen tree limb blocking the path, his cold-numb body barely registering the pain as the thorns pierced his gloves and pulled at his long, unkempt hair. He was almost there. He could do it. He wouldn’t have to die.

Around the next bend of the path he finally caught sight of Aelstath itself, and would have wept with joy if he could. The town, for it was hardly a simple peasant village, was absolutely bustling with activity despite the late hour. As he drew closer and could make out more detail, Kellan couldn’t help but gawk dumbly at the brightly garbed figures gathered around fire pits and market stalls, or even dancing despite the setting sun. Were they all mad? They had no fortifications, no walls, and certainly no choir to hold vigil. Surely they would all be killed? And yet Kellan could not see a single one showing any hint of concern as he passed between two of the tall standing stones which appeared to mark the perimeter of the town.

An abrupt wave of heat washed over him the moment he crossed the threshold, eliciting a gasp of surprise. He was nowhere near the fires yet, and it was so sudden. It must be the work of some elven witchcraft, he concluded, and whispered a quick prayer for forgiveness. If he were to live out his remaining days amongst heathens, he could only hope he would not be judged too harshly for sharing in the poisoned fruits of their labours.

Steadying himself against the rising feeling of nausea, he cautiously approached the gathering. He expected them to react to his arrival, the arrival of a human, with something appropriate: distrust, or fear maybe. Not that he was much to fear, of course. He hadn’t anticipated that they would be so totally unconcerned. A few flashed him a smile or a nod, but that was it. Might humans flee into the weave more often than he had guessed? But that couldn’t be it. For so many others to be as desperate as him that they would forsake the safety of the sanct lands behind the walls, it didn’t make any sense. Perhaps they were simply mistaking him for someone else, or... well, there was some other reason, he was sure of it.

Distracted by the warmth and the strange behaviour of the elves, he remained oblivious to the town’s other inhabitants until he nearly walked right into one. Looking up from his feet towards the person in his path, he realized they were not truly a person at all, but some manner of feline beastkin wearing an uncomfortably sheer dress. He stumbled backwards, mouth agape, catching her, no, its attention. Even if it looked or sounded or acted like a person, it was a beast and beasts didn’t have a soul. How could the elves permit the creatures to roam amongst them like equals? The beastkin, for its part, laughed brightly at his expression of surprise, a feminine sound that rumbled strangely from its throat. It didn’t claw out his throat, to his surprise, but simply gave him a wink before walking around him to join a group of dancers who seemed to eagerly welcome its arrival with shockingly physical affection. Its reaction seemed so genuine, so... human... he found himself struggling to remember that she was only an animal.

Moving further into the town, he pulled his cloak around him like a shield, as though it would protect him from the strange feeling of unease building within him. What was this place? The shelter of the sun was fading fast, and still they continued to party as though celebrating a midsummer feast regardless of the danger. Perhaps the same witchcraft that staved off the chill of the forest would protect them from the night fiends? The town had survived all these years in the wilderness, so they could not simply be careless. They clearly had some trick. Or perhaps the rumours of the elves serving the fiends were true...

Any further thought on the matter of the town’s protection was stolen out of Kellan’s brain as the rich smell of roasting meat struck him like a bolt, fixing him to the spot. Hunger overpowered fear and he scanned the rows of colourful stalls. There it was, a tall elven woman tending a fire, spinning a strange contraption holding small chunks of flesh pierced in rows with spikes like carnal prayer beads. He didn’t even notice that he had come right up to the stall until the woman turned her attention to him, causing him to freeze once again. She bared her teeth and beckoned him forwards. He couldn’t move, and as the moment drew on, the woman’s face seemed to fall.

"Are you alright, little one?" she asks, her voice light and melodic with an accent that seemed to draw out the vowel sounds like notes.

"I... I was just looking..." Kellan replies, heart pounding.

"Come now, you are but skin and bones. Aishilleadh, needs must I will speak to your cairdan about your diet myself. For now, you are to eat."

Kellan shuddered, clasping one hand instinctively over the back of the other as he began stepping back. "N-no, I can’t... I was just looking... I promise... I was just looking..."

The elf’s eyes narrowed and a dark look stole over her face. She made a move to step around the counter and Kellan bolted, dashing between two stalls before she could grab him and into an alleyway. He could just barely hear the woman calling out behind him over the sound of the music and the pounding of his heart.

The alleyway led out into a miniature forest in the middle of the city, one full of all manner of strange plants. Many were possessed of wide needles like spades with deceptively thornless stems and several were ominously colourful fruit which clearly warned of poison. He found himself furiously blinking away tears to keep his vision clear, lest he stumble off the path. He needed to flee quickly, but was scared of moving any faster for fear of damaging the plants lest he be punished even further or succumb to some sinister toxin.

Ducking around a tree with long, softly humming strands reaching down from its branches, he suddenly found himself in the midst of a small clearing amongst the flora. He was not alone. Womenfolk of various ages seemed to be mingling there, sitting atop the field of moss-like plants and conversing brightly in unfamiliar tongues. The closest group, who seemed to have been previously engaged with tending to each others’ hair as he had seen his mother tend to his sister’s, responded to his sudden arrival with gasps of surprise and shock. Kellan clearly did not belong here, and his eyes darted around for an exit.

One of the younger-looking elf with sky-grey hair spoke up first, issuing some sort of challenge to him in the elven tongue.

"I... I don’t... understand... I didn’t mean to..." he stammered, unable to meet her eyes.

"Oh you poor girl, what happened?" an older girl spoke in his language, rising to her feet. She looked almost like an elf, but her skin was oddly green and her fingers were joined by webs of skin. "You’re trembling like a leaf in an autumn gale." She narrowed her eyes, looking him over, and Kellan shrunk beneath her gaze. "And you seem as one lost in the forest for a month by the thorns in your hair."

A beastkin with a muzzle like a wolf growled. "If this is someone’s idea of a prank on one of the wards, just give me their name and I’ll make them regret it." Kellan flinched, looking at her sharp teeth.

"Come sit down," the grey-haired elf said in his own tongue now, beckoning him closer. "We’ll get you all cleaned up and you can tell us what happened."

Kellan looked between them, heart pounding, unable to think. Did they think that he was one of them? A... a... a member of their community? Or did they really think he was... No... no they couldn’t... he couldn’t... he had to go. Before they found out.

In a blind panic, he dashed away, eliciting cries of protest from the girls. But he couldn’t stay, he couldn’t, he needed to get away from all of this. He didn’t belong in this place. It had to be a trick, their false smiles trying to lure him into letting his guard down, and then they would... it didn’t matter what they were planning, he had to escape. He would find some small nook to hide in and leave in the morning.

Around the startled crowd, through the thickets of strange plants, down another alleyway, up some stairs... he soon lost track of where he was going, the bright colours and lights blending together into a blur of terror, until he found himself huddled in a softly sobbing ball in a farmer’s shed, clutching his cloak tightly around him despite the uncomfortable warmth. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t sleep, his mind racing with all that he had heard and seen.

And so he would have stayed for hours, had a voice not cut through the silence. "At ease, my little one. You need not be afraid, for you have reached a place of peace."

Kellan felt a brief flash of urgency, knowing that he should run, but it soon flickered out. The voice was so soothing, like his mother’s voice had been, and he was so exhausted.

Moonlight glowed softly through his tears as the presence knelt beside him. "Dear child from lands of callous kings whose hearts are lifeless as the walls they built in fear, their triumph and their tombs, you bear the burden of much cruelty for one so young."

Tender hands took his own in their grasp, and though he flinched, he had no strength to resist them. His right hand was turned palm down, revealing the scarring of the brand proving him nothing more than a worthless thief. "O, you lords of men, wherefore do you claim the right to punish those who seek naught but to live?" Kellan did not answer, for the question was not for him, but he listened and strained to understand. Wasn't punishing people what rulers were for? Wasn't that the point?

The presence sighed, and their breath was strangely cold on Kellan's injured hand. He tried to pull away, but was held fast until the chill subsided. Confused, he blinked away tears to see clearly. The brand was gone, as though it had never been, his skin smooth and unmarred.

"Within our home, it is the rule that none decide the form of any but themselves," the voice explained. "Nor are they harmed for hunger, thirst, or need."

Kellan stared in shock at his hand, unable to make a sound as he flexed and unflexed his fingers. There was no pain, not even a hint of a scar. It was truly gone. He tried to look up at his healer, but found his gaze slipping out of focus and struggling to find purchase. "Th-thank you... but... but why?"

"You did not have the wish to bear that mark, and so its presence is not welcome here. The forms of our dear people are their own, unbound from happenstance of life or birth to better match what lies within their heart." They laughed then, soft and knowing, a sound which made shivers go down his back, though he did not yet understand precisely why. "Be that form human, elf, or boy... or girl."

Kellan's head was swimming, filled with moonlight and soft words dancing in her thoughts to a tune totally alien but utterly familiar. Exhausted, Kellan did not struggle when the figure lifted her up, cradling her gaunt body gently in their arms. It felt as though some great, crushing weight had been lifted from her shoulders, one she didn't even realize she were bearing. She was certain something had changed, somehow, but her mind was unable to clearly discern what. Conceding to her fatigue, she simply rested peacefully against her rescuer.

Vaguely, Kellan could hear the figure still speaking, as though from miles away. "Fair Airen bade me bring you to her home to rest, and then to feed you come the morn. She was, quite rightly, worried when you fled so terrified upon her last attempt."

"No money..." Kellan mumbled.

"To see your hunger sated is enough, what payment more could any of us need? Now rest. You need not worry anymore. Tomorrow, you can spend time with your friends, and they will help you learn our people's ways."

Kellan nodded softly though already near asleep, borne peacefully upon the moonlight towards her new home.