The Elf War

By Scott James Thomas

Disallie has a problem -- her father, the king. In order to save the kingdom, he sacrifices her to the enemy of all who cherish life and beauty. Follow Princess Disallie as she fights for survival and for nothing less than the bare necessities that any princess needs. Along the way, she finds her own place in the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott James Thomas
• Release date: Apr 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005211974

Scott James Thomas

Dr. Scott James Thomas has traveled the world as an exploration geophysicist, exploring remote locations in the search for critical minerals for society.He received his bachelors of science in geophysics from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, then his Masters and Doctorate from the University of Arizona in Tucson.He enjoys nature and creating, but since he can't draw, he writes. He favors sci-fi, but mostly his stories revolve around human interactions and life changes. His first novel was the sci-fi trilogy Darkmatter, which was started before E-Books existed. His second was Sakuya Stood In The Road, a fantasy fan-lit piece.Afterward was: Champ, Valkiree, The Elf War, and lately the Black Magic series.Scott currently lives in the Denver suburbs of Colorado.

Book preview

The Elf War

Scott James Thomas

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Smashwords Edition, December 2022

License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Please do not re-sell or give this eBook to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or purchased it for other than your use only, then you should return to an E-book vendor that sells this book and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Prolog

During the twenty-second century, as humanity became increasingly dependent upon its technology, the human form suffered . No longer did the species battle nature for the privilege of life and thus the social pressure to remain fit collectively relaxed. It was a dire situation – the fate of the species was at stake. But that ill was not forever.

Biological science rose to meet the challenge. The world over, powerful companies promised to beautify the species, and they succeeded. But the genetic genie was loose and the enlightened looked for the next challenge – designer babies became the norm. And beyond that, grown individuals could alter their appearance, making their bodies playthings of the heart.

But not all was right with the world – genetics could not cure pride. Eugenic cults formed and tribal-centric egos fractured humanity. Social strife, the child of envy, further divided the planet. Civil wars sliced through civilization, and technology—which had sustained civilization for centuries—faltered. Universities and high technology corporations were the first to burn in the fires of hate.

The world changed as the political and cultural borders disintegrated and reformed into new patterns. The haves and have-nots segregated into new culture-centric nations. Empathy for other cultures waned, mass migrations ensued and the global population plummeted. The world, once tied together by high technology, became a large and forbidding world where the fight for survival was won or lost on a daily basis.

War and mayhem, brought forth by tribalism, pride and desperation, finally pulled humanity to its knees. The remaining cities burned in the flames of repugnance. Genetically modified communities, hiding in isolation, survived – but their ordeal was only beginning.

With the complete fall of technology, natural selection once again wrapped its cruel fingers around the many generations of descendants. Clans, each with their own genetic perturbations of what humanity had become, began to evolve anew.

Generations passed and a new ice age came, covering much of the Earth in ice and tundra. Millennia after millennia crept by as isolated populations lived and grew into new species that were based upon the fanciful genetic design of the cults started by their long-forgotten forefathers.

An immense hundred and twenty thousand years passed before the great ice sheets retreated. The world was renewed. Some peoples, emerging from their isolated islands and valleys, were as different from their ancient ancestors as Homo Sapiens were from Neanderthals. And some, due to their radical starting cult, were much different.

In bits and pieces, the fragments of what had once been a single species crept back over the vast planet. The diverse species had to either find a way to live together or die fighting.

Our story begins in the Pacific Northwest, on the southern slopes of the Olympic Mountains within the long-forgotten State of Washington.

~ ~ Chapter 1 ~ ~

i

sallie smelled the morning venison wafting through the castle. Rousing from her slumber, she opened her eyes. From around the curtains the sun shone into her sleeping chamber – morning was in full bloom.

In the dim light of the new day, Disallie stretched her arms as one of her servants, Trixi, walked to the window and opened the curtains, filling the sleeping room with bright light. It was far too soon for such bold activity and it harbored a bad omen – Trixi only opened the curtains early when something of importance was happening.

Disallie yawned and asked from her plush bed, Why so early?

Trixi intoned, Mistress, the king is expecting you.

Disallie sighed. Closing her eyes, she relaxed on her pillows, enjoying the seconds before she had to really think about the new day or her father. Perhaps it was good news, but probably not. She would prefer it if the king simply went about his business without interfering with hers. She asked, Do you know why?

No, Mistress.

The familiar clanging and shouting of cavalry and marching soldier-men sounded from the courtyard far below her chambers. It was the usual sounds, the castle was home to the largest regiment of soldiers in the land. Disallie smiled, most of the men were young and single – it was how she liked them. The castle had its own internal guards who obediently looked the other way when she had special visitors in the evening, usually from the army. Last night a soldier visited her, a new eager one. Perhaps she would send word for him to again visit her – if he wasn’t marching to the front today.

Trixi continued, Your bath is ready, Mistress.

Disallie opened her eyes and looked at Trixi, her favorite and most faithful servant. However, on this morning Trixi looked perturbed. Disallie threw the covers off and walked into the bathing chamber, the tub was full of soap bubbles and looked pleasantly warm.

Trixi helped Disallie out of her nightgown, folded it and carefully placed it on a shelf. Stepping into the tub, Disallie noticed Trixi was still clothed in her simple leather dress, as if not preparing to enter the tub with her. Come, join me, Disallie said, stepping further into the bath water.

No Mistress, not today.

Oh come. I’ve woken early and need a soothing back massage before the shampooing.

The king is waiting to see you.

The king, Disallie sighed, trying to think of something so important that the king would feel compelled to bother her about it. Perhaps the beasts have attacked again? she asked.

Not that I’ve heard.

Disallie looked at Trixi. Something was bothering the servant – she was staying aloof. Still, there were basic necessities that could not be left untended. She said in a more resolute voice, Come, shampoo my hair.

Trixi defiantly replied, No Mistress. I will inform the king you are awake.

Had she heard correctly, Trixi was refusing to perform her most fundamental of duties? Disallie studied Trixi, whose expression indicated the refusal was profound. Trixi knew perfectly well her hair needed shampooing. After all, it was morning, like any other morning. Trixi wasn’t getting ready, instead was stepping toward the door.

A chill ran up Disallie’s spine, never had she seen a servant refuse their duty. You’re leaving me? Disallie asked in astonishment, glancing around the bathing room. Her other servants were oddly missing. Where’s Esma, Frooti?

They’re not here this morning.

Disallie rose to her feet, standing in the tub to look around the bathing room, to see for herself the absence of her two other servants. With a quaver she couldn’t quite control, she asked, Where are they?

Trixi hesitated then stiffly said, They are no longer your servants.

What! Disallie exclaimed, her mind buzzing with the implications. Her servants were walking out on her! Something was going on, at the very least she would have to leave the castle to find new servants – the task could take hours! Perhaps something serious was happening, were the humans invading? Standing in her bath, she focused on Trixi who was inching toward the door, and demanded, Tell me now – where are they!

With a stiff lip, Trixi said, They are going home to be with their tribes.

Their tribes? What about me! Disallie glared at Trixi and demanded, What’s going on? Are the humans invading?

Trixi gritted her teeth and said, I too am leaving, Mistress. The king is waiting to see you … and he’s not happy.

Not happy? Because you’re leaving me! Disallie angrily exclaimed, stepping out of the tub. You traitorous bitch! I could have your head for this!

The harsh words had a visible effect upon Trixi, who stepped back in alarm, her eyes wide with fright.

Disallie looked over at her dagger on her dresser. She quickly stepped to it and snatched the blade , then stepped toward the door, blocking Trixie’s only retreat from the bathing room.

Disallie held the blade out and advanced on Trixi, who was backing into a corner. Brimming with anger, Disallie demanded, You’re leaving me?

Trixi bravely nodded, The king knows. Everyone knows!

Stepping closer, Disallie squinted her eyes, studying the woman who she thought had been faithful. She sternly asked, What does everyone know?

Trixi, her eyes focused on the advancing blade, said, Everyone knows how you treat us. What you do!

Disallie felt flush, could it be true? Could her very own maidens have revealed her personal pleasures? Trixi had been one of her servants for the last five years. Esma and Frooti were younger and had only started a year ago, but she had never seen any indication they didn’t like their tasks in the castle. Disallie shook her head, it didn’t matter, nothing mattered, only that she was in charge and could do anything she wanted. She resolutely declared, I’m a princess! Who told the king?

It came from the troops – everyone in the castle knows!

Disallie’s head was spinning, the unthinkable was happening. In blind fury, she lunged at her traitorous servant with the knife, but it was all a blur, the troops knew, the people knew, her father, all the council, the castle staff? She heard Trixi cry in alarm, turning and running away. In her daze, Disallie saw Trixi run from the bathing chamber, then the sound of the entrance door of her chambers opening and closing. It sounded ominous, like the servant wouldn’t be coming back.

Standing naked, Disallie was stunned. Could it be true, her very own servants and soldier lovers had told on her? The room was spinning and she stumbled back to the bath, sitting in the forgotten warm water.

Everything was all wrong – she was alone, her chambers were oddly quiet, the bath water unmoving without her servants preparing to shampoo her hair. She looked around at the white stone walls, being completely alone was oddly odd, forebodingly odd, scary odd. And it was for a very real reason that was not just going to go away.

Her father, the king, knew of her nighttime visitors! But it wasn’t her fault – damn Trixi, damn Esma and Frooti. They told! She had trusted them, and they had told! Her friends! But they were no friends – they were traitors! Disallie gritted her teeth, formulating a plan – she would kill them. Trixi, Esma and Frooti—all her servants—would pay, she would watch the life flow from them if it was the last thing she would ever do!

Her servants lived in the western villages close to the castle, not the deep nomadic forest tribes – that meant she could have the soldiers hunt them down. She was a princess. The Princess! And yet her nasty servants betrayed her! It would be their heads! At the very least, they should be dragged to the dungeons. She angrily splashed the water, knowing that traitors could always escape into the forest.

She looked around the room, again it felt ominously empty, sending a chill up her back, and there was no way she could wash her hair by herself. No princess should ever be in the position she was in. She would have to get new servants. She would go into a village and find some new girls, some that would be loyal to her, not to the king. She needed servants that would obey her – not so easy to find.

Fifteen minutes later Disallie was clenching her fists and anxiously pacing her chambers – alone. Never, ever had she been forced to dress herself! She had all the dresser drawers open and had found undergarments. She couldn’t believe it, having to dress herself! That bitch Trixi had tricked her, forcing her to chase her away. All the while knowing fully well, she would have no one to dress her! Damn! Damn Trixi to hell!

She opened all the closets, she had a dozen dresses, but damn, they all were princess style that closed in the back! She didn’t have a single simple commoner dress, why would she? Damn, damn, damn!

Disallie selected a pretty, pink dress that she thought she could put on herself, but there was no way she could reach far enough to work the fasteners on the back. Besides, how were you supposed to close a hook if you couldn’t even see it! With the dress open in the back, she put a red cloak over her shoulders to hide the problem. It clashed, red on pink – she needed more cloaks.

Sitting and looking at herself in the mirror, Disallie frowned, not being able to get properly dressed was the least of her problems. A confrontation with the king was approaching. Her father would understand – she was a princess after all. Princesses were expected to take liberties. She had servants – that was a very princessy thing to have. She could see how Trixie would be insulted by not getting as many men as she, but Trixie received pay for her tasks and had accepted the servant job.

But Trixi had said the king was angry. Perhaps his anger was over something else, not just fraternizing with soldiers. Perhaps the war was going poorly. Disallie nodded to her image in the mirror, seeing the true problem – the war. The war was a continuing annoyance – he was mad about that. Perhaps the animals really had broken through the lines and were invading. Still, she would have preferred her father not finding out about her night visitors.

Disallie studied herself in the mirror. Despite her tangled hair and mismatched cloak, she was a beautiful princess – she deserved to be treated like one. But something was wrong, it ate at her gut. Damn! Father was mad and it probably wasn’t the war.

She nervously paced. Never, ever, had she been afraid to see her father. But it was her right as a princess to bed whomever she wanted! Although she never thought her father would know or be angry.

Disallie plopped in a chair and buried her face in her hands. Having nighttime visitors wasn’t all that was wrong. The king once said he wanted her to marry the son of one of his advisors or some other nobleman associated with the castle, but it hadn’t yet happened. She had no desire to marry – besides, she was still a little young.

She started to shake with nervousness. Before she was of age, her father told her that a proper princess doesn’t take men just for the pleasure of it. Just how mad was he? Could she lose her servants?

Disallie struggled to regain her composure, managing to put on a pair of slippers, the only footwear she could manage by herself, and stood to face the door of her chambers. Little could be done with her hair – it would have to be as it was. She would explain that her servants had betrayed her and she was on her own. Yes, the king would understand.

She adjusted her cloak, then resolutely opened the door and immediately was met by four waiting guards – they had never stood at her door before.

One guard said, Princess, please accompany us.

Where to? Disallie nervously asked. It could be to the council – or perhaps the dungeons! She tensed herself in preparation for a fight.

The king is waiting to see you.

She eyed her adversaries, four strong men who the king trusted. They looked ready for a struggle – if it came to that. Disallie sneered, they wish. She gathered all the stoicism she could manage and started walking down the hall to the winding stairs. The guards took up behind her.

She walked slowly, biding her time in hopes she could figure out something, and there were many steps and halls to get to the throne room. However, when she finally entered the throne room, she hadn’t thought of anything new. Disallie was struck by how many people were present – it was the full court. The stern king was sitting upon the throne, behind him were the elder advisors – old men. To the sides were the gentry and nobility, then the soldiers along the walls. And every single eye was burning into her. Definitely things were not well. She wished she were back in her feather bed.

Disallie stopped twenty feet before her father, in the middle of the room, and lowered her head. She had seen the anger in his eyes.

Disallie, the king sternly began.

Disallie lifted her head.

It has been confirmed by many witnesses, despite my expressed wishes, you have fraternized with men out of bonding! Not with one, but many! For years! What do you have to say for yourself?

Disallie could not stop the tears and wept freely as she exclaimed, Father! I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again. Please!

The room was full of whispering – everyone speaking of her crime. She could also imagine the punishment they were discussing. Getting her door locked at night? Only one servant? Would he take away her dresses so she had to dress like a commoner? No, certainly not that.

She found herself falling to her knees, knowing she was going to get punished, unable to lift herself for all her burning shame.

The king rose to his feet and yelled, You are no princess! I thank the gods that your mother is not here to see what you have become!

The words and harshness of his anger sounded bad – real bad. Worse than expected. Most misbehaving women went to the dungeon. But there had been executions many years before, women who didn’t conform, scheming against the king. Please! Disallie begged through her tears. I won’t do it again!

Her father rose to his feet and bellowed, It is too late! You have shamed the royalty – you have shamed me! This cannot continue and it is clear you cannot control yourself!

Disallie lowered her forehead to the floor and wept. Her stomach was tying into knots as she could only hope it was the dungeons.

The king took two steps closer and stopped. Disallie looked up at him through her tears. He was glaring down at her. Her heart pounded as her mind raced through all the unthinkable things that he could do.

He said in a calmer tone, For this, you shall be banished from Elvonia.

What? Disallie could hardly believe it – banishment? Was there even such a thing? She had never heard of it. Perhaps she could go to a friendly tribe, where they knew how to treat a princess. Yes, she would be taken in by a tribe. Of course! But he said from Elvonia, not just the castle. It made no sense. Certainly she would just be living down in the village for a while. That’s all, if even that.

The king looked around the court, at the council and advisors. He sat back on his throne and said, The council and I have decided. We shall offer you to our enemy, the humans. You shall be a peace offering. They may have you … to do as they choose. You are to never return.

Had she heard correctly? Banished to the humans? A cold chill gripped her spine. Nooo! she cried. Disallie knew of the barbarity of humans, they would burn her alive, or worse!

She screamed, Father! I’m sorry! Please, not the humans!

The king said, Guards! Take her to the barracks. Put her in a carriage and deliver her south, to the border along with the emissaries. A letter has been written to propose a peace with Anthrodeen.

As she stared horrified at her father, two guards grasped her arms, lifting Disallie to her feet, but she was too stunned to stand with the room spinning, letting them drag her from the throne room.

~ ~ Chapter 2 ~ ~

To Disallie’s dismay, the overly-bold soldiers actually put her in manacles. Inside the carriage, chains attached to her shackles were bolted to the wood seat. The wait in the carriage was long enough for her to recover, dry her eyes, and test the strength of the infernal chains.

While stuck in the carriage she contemplated that it wasn’t too late, the king could change his mind. Perhaps it was only their intent to scare her, certainly they wouldn’t banish the only princess! And such a beautiful one as herself.

For what seemed like an hour, the various idiot noblemen—friends of her father whom she had known all her life—took turns to look at her and tell her how nasty she was. It felt like she had nothing left to lose and she glared back and coldly said to each of them, I will remember you. The words had an appropriate chilling effect on the men who tried to keep a stiff upper lip. But in the end, it was she who was in chains facing a certain horrible death, not them.

Eventually, after the display of male righteousness, the soldiers finally got the carriage moving toward her execution. They were moving south, away from her home, toward the disgusting human land of Anthrodeen. It was actually happening – her fate was crashing down upon her, making her yank all the harder on her chains. She envisioned what she would do, ripping the eyes out of her captors then fly out into the deep forest where she would live. The chains were strong but the border was distant, a lot could happen between here and there.

Disallie watched the village pass by. Then they entered the forest. They weren’t moving fast and the border was seven leagues distant. She had never been there—not even close—it was only a place for soldiers.

She looked out the door window at the thickening forest – the trees were dark and spooky. Even without seeing it, she could tell they are far from home just by the pungent smell. It smelled like animals – and dirt. It was that mysterious darkness that made the woods appealing, it was a place where she could run and hide. She had little experience in the woods but was sure she could do it. It was a natural thing to live in the trees, many people did it, but not her father. There were tribes scattered throughout the land. Certainly one would save her, after all, they were her people – she was their princess!

She peered into the trees as they traveled, hoping to see a rescue from the forest tribes. Perhaps even Trixi, Esma or Frooti would hear of her fate, they might be able to lead a band to save her. The news of her unjust punishment was certainly spreading throughout the land. However, she saw no rescue party and her chains were annoyingly stout and fighting them only cut into her wrists.

Disallie leaned back and contemplated her home, which was insolently banishing her. It was nothing but a death sentence. Her father was killing two birds with one stone, getting rid of his misbehaving daughter while appeasing the animals.

She had rarely seen a human. They were brutes, standing a barbaric six-foot-tall, the males had facial hair – disgusting. Uncivil beasts they were. She had only seen the males – an occasional emissary to the castle. The war to rid the land of them was progressing slowly due to their primitive beast strength and frustrating resiliency to death.

Once in Anthrodeen, there was no doubt she would be paraded about then slowly tortured to death. Perhaps burned alive then eaten. Or eaten alive. Disallie gave the chains another sharp yank, making the manacles dig into her flesh, but the bolt held. She studied her beautiful wrists, could she gnaw through them?

Deep in the woods, her captors stopped to rest the horses at a stream. The soldiers pulled her out of the carriage and allowed her to pee. She saw that behind them was a second and a third carriage – more soldiers and dignitaries. The emissaries – they were there to make sure she was promptly delivered to the monsters.

The soldiers offered little privacy, only allowing her to go a few feet from the road to relieve herself, which wasn’t easily accomplished in the manacles.

When done, six soldiers urged Disallie back into the carriage and secured her manacle chain to the bolt screwed into the wood of the seat. Once the soldiers convinced themselves the chains were secure, three older men walked up to her, dignitaries from the royal court. Standing outside the carriage, one dignitary, their leader, began to speak to her through the door window, Princess Disallie.

She yanked on the chains, making the coward jump back. Disallie scowled, What?

The man, from a safer distance, wiped his brow and said, It’s the war. It goes badly.

Yes, I know, Disallie angrily shot back. The man’s excuse for partaking in her execution was pathetic. She tugged at her chains again to elicit the response she wanted, the man cautiously stepping further back. However, the bolt was secure, and she sneered, And so I’m to be sacrificed?

From where he stood, the nervous man looked at the door, as if seeing her chains through it, and said, Your crimes – the king might have forgiven you, but they are serious. This is the best he could do. He wanted you to know.

The best he could do? Ha! That sounds like a lie! He just wants me to be killed by humans.

Nobody wants to see you executed. This will be an honorable death, worthy of an unruly princess.

The term ‘executed’ ran chills up her back. She yanked at the chains again. There had to be a way out, this couldn’t be the end. But they had prepared, putting her in chains. She was the princess, everyone knew her, someone had to come and rescue her. Disallie exclaimed, Are your words intended to save your life if I escape? I have allies!

The man shook his head, The word is spreading of your banishment – no civilized tribe will have you. They have long known of your untamed demeanor and now you have no allies. If you were to run off into the forest, it will be only a short time before you’re captured.

What do you know? Disallie spat then screamed, I’m your princess!

The man looked frightened, stepping further away but had the courage to say, If perchance you are able to escape the humans, do not come back to Elvonia.

You hope! I’m being used!

The man gritted his teeth and blasted, You brought this on yourself, for years! You abuse everyone around you! No one can bow low enough to please you! You must not be queen! That would only be a return to the old ways!

What if I get married?

Despite your mother’s beauty that you are blessed with, you have not asked for any man’s hand in marriage, and now, with what has come to light— The old man didn’t continue and said in a calmer tone from where he safely stood, Disallie, you had everything. Perhaps if your mother had lived, everything could have been different.

The dignitaries looked like they were going to turn and leave. She defiantly spat, Ambyses will come!

The man hesitated and said, The prince has not yet learned of your treachery. I am sure it will break his heart. With that, the man and the others turned and walked away.

She yelled after them, You had better hope I don’t come back! I’ll never forget this and I’ll never forget you! Make your peace!

The men paused to look back at her. Some were a bit white.

~ ~ Chapter 3 ~ ~

The grueling ride lasted three more hours, passing through far-away portions of the kingdom and the huts of one last small tribal village before they stopped in an army camp near the battlefront. Disallie had never seen a real army camp, but it was obvious – the small shelters and soldiers sitting about. Perhaps some she had bedded, comforting them and for which she was now unjustly being punished. She was left chained in the carriage while the dignitaries conversed amongst themselves, discussing what had to be done with her. They were scared – being so close to the border.

From where she was chained in the carriage, Disallie looked for injured men, perhaps some corpses, but saw none. Eventually she was removed from the carriage by a large contingent of eight soldiers and allowed to relieve herself. Disallie took the opportunity to kick one man in the groin, hoping to win her freedom, but it only made the others grab her tighter, foiling the plan.

It was an even larger crowd of soldiers and dignitaries who escorted her further south into no-man’s land, by foot, into the forest towards certain death. She recognized some of the men and tried winking at them in hopes of a last-minute favor, but they turned away from her. It was a somber, frightened crowd, venturing south toward the enemy. The brave men at the front of the procession were waving white flags over their heads in hopes it would save their lives. If the savages mistook the white flag for an invitation to attack, it could mean she might find a way to escape in the ensuing melee, but any thought of an attack was terrifying.

Disallie, stuck in the middle of the soldiers, was looking around in the trees. Step by step, she was forced to walk south, the twigs and leaves crunching under their feet. There were humans about, she could feel it in her bones, like something unnatural was haunting the woods. They were creeping through the trees between civilization and the land of monsters – this was where the brave and strong died in righteous battle. The frightened men were close-packed, their shields and bows at the ready. She could see them sweat, their eyes darting around. The humans might not recognize or honor the white flag, they could easily be ambushed – if she could not manage to escape, perhaps her death would be quick.

Disallie realized for the first time how truly dangerous the enemy was, how truly desperate her father was. It felt less and less likely that during the impending fight she could run away into the forest. She tested the manacles once again and looked over her shoulder, picking the route she would take.

They came to an open glade—the killing field—and hiked over the rough ground to the center of it, as far as any dared regardless of how many white flags they waved. Two soldiers helped support her, as she stumbled over the uneven surface in inappropriate shoes, but it was clear the soldiers had no heart in the matter, tugging on her harshly, just wanting the dangerous task to be completed.

Once in the center of the glade with thick forest all around, one of the dignitaries daringly called out across the meadow, breaking the unnerving ambiance, Humans! We come in peace! We offer a gift!

The glade was eerily silent, belying the extreme tension. It was a place nobody should ever be. A bird flew overhead and bugs were buzzing her, the sounds ominously prominent. Disallie’s senses were alive with the sensations around her – a gentle breeze blew the grass. there were numerous holes in the ground that perhaps had been dug by bugs or small animals, although she saw no digging bugs around her. Even the warmth of the sun and the smell of the flowers was profound. She saw a white stick that may have once been a bone. Suddenly from the trees on the other side came a loud, low voice, making her and everyone else jump, What gift!

The voice from the trees chilled Disallie, it was unmistakable, the deep booming voice of a dreaded human, the enemy of