There were angry gasps, and the figure hissed at her. ‘Outcast!’
But another figure came forward, stepping fully out of the shadows. He was an Elf, she thought.
‘Be not too quick to judge, Imalwain,’ he said. ‘Are we not all Outcasts here?’ The man was not overly tall, although his bearing was one of strength and solidity. But he was self-possessed in a way that set him apart. Then, Malina noticed something about his general features.
He was part Pixie!
‘Allow me to make introduction,’ he said. ‘I am Elgar. Imalwain you know. As to the others,’ he inclined his head to those standing in the shadows, ‘there are a good many Pixies and Wood-Nymphs. A few Water-Sprites are here as well, seeking refuge from the winter. Now, tell me, Malina, why are you here? It is not the way of a Pixie to act as an Emissary, though even I can see that you are not what you once were.’
‘There is civil war,’ Malina replied, still afraid, but to her own surprise discovering an unexpected courage. ‘The Elves fight amongst themselves. Some are outraged at the way our folk have been murdered. Such are those whom I travel with. They protected me from Prince Cir and the King, and have at last defied their Sovereigns openly. Many Elves have died in this cause. Those with me have come to relinquish their estranged ways. They wish to return to the forest, and live as Elves used-’