Winter was exhausted. Not in the literal sense—his body didn't do exhaustion the way others did—but mentally, he was hanging by a thread. He'd given himself a whole speech about navigating just fine after leaving the snow behind, and here he was, once again surrounded by unfamiliar terrain, completely turned around.
"At least with the snow I knew where I was," he muttered under his breath, brushing a low-hanging vine out of his way. "I don't have a single damn clue where I am right now."
Aetheria had changed a lot in five hundred years. His sense of direction, which was never great to begin with, had gone from bad to tragic once he left Haldoria. Somehow. He felt like an old man with dementia.
"Ugh, what should I do…" he groaned, dragging both hands through his hair, fingers raking at the roots as he spun slowly in place, looking for any hint of a path. There was none. Just green. Leaves, moss, vines. Green, green, green.
Then, movement—low to the ground. Winter narrowed his eyes.
A snake. No—definitely not just a snake. Its body was sinuous and smooth, but near the top of its head sat a single third eye, blinking slowly. That alone was enough to mark it a monster, not just a jungle animal.
Winter eyed it with tired curiosity, then threw his hands up in surrender. "Fuck it. Why not?" he muttered, stepping forward.
The creature slithered through a patch of moss and roots, ignoring him at first—until Winter raised his voice.
"Excuse me!" he called out, entirely too casual about the whole thing. "Do you know where I am?"
The creature paused. Its body coiled slowly, methodically, before its head turned to face him. All three eyes now locked on.
"You… I undersssstand you," the snake said in a rasping hiss, its voice both strange and eerily calm.
Winter gave a nonchalant nod. "Yeah, yeah, everything usually can. But look, can you please tell me where I am? I'm really, really lost. Like… out of my element lost."
The snake gave a slow, deliberate bob of its head.
"You are in Ssssylvanoria. Don't worry… you will meet the ressssssidence ssssoon."
With that cryptic reply, it turned and slithered off without another word.
Winter stood there scratching the back of his head. "Sylvanoria? Wait… isn't that Stroven's country?" His brows furrowed. "And what the hell did it mean by 'you will meet the residence soon?'"
He didn't have to wait long to find out.
Behind him, a sharp voice rang out: "What is one of your kind doing here?"
Winter's eyes widened. *People!* he thought, whirling around.
Standing just beyond the trees were four figures—elves, judging by their pointed ears and angular features. Three boys, one girl. All teenagers by the look of them, dressed in tightly strapped leather armor that marked them as scouts. Every one of them had the same black hair, the same emerald green eyes… and all four had bows drawn and arrows notched, aimed directly at him.
This was fine.
"Oh my goddess! You don't know how long it's been since I saw another person!" Winter exclaimed, the relief in his voice completely at odds with the four drawn bows aimed straight at him. He stepped forward with arms outstretched, smiling like he'd just stumbled upon old friends in the middle of a picnic.
"Don't move!" the girl snapped. Her voice cracked like a whip, stopping Winter mid-step.
"Eh?" He blinked, eyes flicking between the four elves. The oldest-looking boy stepped up, tone sharp.
"Tell us why you're here. Now. And where's the rest of your group?"
Winter tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "Uh… there is no group. I'm here alone. Also didn't really mean to come here—well, not yet anyway. I don't even have a gift or anything. I was actually trying to get to the Free Cities, so if you could maybe point me in the direction of, like, that whole area? That'd be great."
The youngest boy, looking fifteen at most, stepped forward with a scowl. "Shut up! Don't you see the situation you're in right now? Or is your race dumber than we expected?"
Winter glanced around, peering into the trees like he was genuinely expecting to see something he'd missed. "What situation are you talking about? 'Cause I already know I'm lost."
The elves exchanged a look—something between confusion and disbelief—like they were silently asking each other if this guy was for real.
The second-youngest boy drew his bow tighter. "This situation, you idiot!" he snapped, gesturing the arrow toward Winter's chest.
"Ohhhhh." Winter nodded, drawing the word out as if something had just clicked. Then he squinted. "Wait… do you plan on shooting me with those?"
"Why else would we have them drawn at you!?" the girl shouted, her voice rising in frustration.
Winter shrugged with a baffled look. "I dunno. I thought maybe you were hunting or something. You are scouts, right?"
The oldest boy ran a hand down his face and sighed, clearly regretting every life decision that led to this moment. "Why the hell are you still calm, despite now knowing what situation you're in?"
"Why would I not be?" Winter said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's not like those arrows can actually do anything to me."
The youngest boy's expression twisted. "Whatever. Just die already!" he yelled and released the arrow.
It whistled through the air, flying straight for Winter's throat.
Winter didn't move.
The arrow struck him dead-on—and bounced off with a dull plink, tumbling harmlessly into the underbrush.
The elves stared, eyes wide, mouths parting in stunned silence.
"Alright," Winter said casually, stepping forward as he stooped to pick up the fallen arrow. He brushed some dirt from the shaft and held it out toward the youngest boy like a teacher returning a dropped pencil.
"Now that you kids have had your fun… why don't you give me some directions?"