and Dorain, looking up at them, appeared as lost and melancholy as the deep night. Lily thought that perhaps the elf wanted to be alone, but as she turned to leave, Dorain said, "I am not averse to company. I am just not in the habit of inflicting my grief on others."
As Lily approached her, she remained staring into the trees.
"Is there anything I can do?"
The elf smiled ingenuously, and turned to consider Lily. "In years long past," Dorain said, "we were more alike to you, eldritch creatures of the natural world. If ancient tales be true, there once existed some distant kinship between your folk and mine. But in this day and age, magic has become more craft than a way of life, and in some ways we are become estranged from ourselves."
Lily considered this for a time. "I'm not sure I understand."
Dorain sighed. "Nor do I. Our people were once counted among the great and the wise. We were not mortal as we are now, and we are much diminished in power and efficacy. Our wants and needs are much humbler than our ancestors." She stopped herself there, having broached an uncomfortable point, leaving Lily to wonder what Dorain's wants and needs were.
On an intuition, Lily asked her, "Are you unable to . . . fulfill yourself, then?"