Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Callum’s not quite sure what to make of the elf before him. On one hand, the glint of her swords at his throat and the movement of her wrist as she prepared to deal the final blow is forever seared into his mind. And yet…
Twice, she’d had him cornered, and twice, she’d been distracted. Had allowed herself to be distracted despite the skill and discipline she clearly possessed.
She could have killed him.
She chose not to.
So when she shoves the small bottle of red liquid into his hands with a huff, he thinks - not for the first time that night - that perhaps all he’s heard about elves is false.
“Drink up,” she says, jolting him from his musings. “That should tie you two over, at least ‘til we find a proper place to camp. Hopefully, won’t be much longer now,” she trails off, muttering something about “blood” and “human lies” under her breath.
Behind him, his brother lets out a weary sigh of relief. Ezran’s exhausted and, frankly, Callum’s not doing much better himself. The events of the night weigh heavily on his mind and he finds it harder and harder to navigate the tangled roots of the forest floor despite the brightness of the moon.
He uncorks the bottle cautiously and feels a pang of guilt at the distinctly fruity scent that hits him. The juice is invigorating, as promised, and surprisingly refreshing. Sweet and tangy in a way that doesn’t leave him yearning for water. He downs about a third of the bottle before passing it to Ezran for him to finish.
Half an hour passes before the elf deems it safe to settle down. The clearing they find themselves in is small and well hidden, and Callum is infinitely grateful for the plush grass that covers most of the area. Ezran falls asleep almost immediately, while Callum roots around the bags in search of something to use as a blanket. Winter may be gone, but the nights are still chilly, and he’d rather not risk sickness. He finds nothing, unfortunately, and is in the process of taking off his jacket to cover his brother with when the elf walks back into camp.
The fact that he didn’t even notice her absence unnerves him more than he’d like to admit.
She notices his stare and nods towards the small bundle of twigs in her arms. “It’s cold out,” she says by way of explanation. “Thought I’d start a fire.”
“Oh…” he blinks, “thanks.”
Callum fidgets uncomfortably when she pulls out a blade to spark the fire. She gives him an apologetic glance when she notices, and shifts to hide it from view. He smiles at the thoughtfulness.
It’s strange, he thinks. Elves have featured in many a nightmare of his. Terrible, bloodthirsty beasts who tear and rend without remorse. Yet despite the horns, and the ears, and the lack of pinkies, the elf before him is more human than he ever thought possible.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. A twitch of an ear and a slight pause in her movements is all he gets as a response. “For earlier, I mean,” he continues, “what I said before it was… It was rude, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”
She turns to study him and he hopes she can see the sincerity in his eyes. Whatever it is she sees, she must deem it satisfactory because she fixes him with a small smile that lets him know he’s forgiven.
She turns back to her work and soon they have a small fire, crackling happily against the chill of the night. He’s about to thank her when she speaks.
“I was wrong too, you know,” she says, pulling her knees to her chest, “ what I said back at the castle… Perhaps humans aren’t as soulless as I thought.”
He nods. It’s not so much an apology, he realizes, as it is a truce. There are lies on both sides of the war and they’ll need patience with each other if they are to have any hope of ending the conflict.
There’s something that bothers him about her choice of words though. “Soulless” she had said, not “heartless” like he would have expected. The disparity nags at him like an itch he can’t quite scratch. There was something he learned in his defense lessons, something about elves and souls that-
“Callum, was it?”
He starts at the sound of her voice and she giggles.
“Your name. It’s Callum, right? Or was it ‘Camel’?”
She’s joking, he can tell. He lets out a short bark of laughter and shakes his head. “No, no. It’s Callum. And you?” he asks, extending his hand.
She stares at the appendage quizzically but makes no move to take it. Instead, she thumps a fist to her chest and says, “Rayla.”
She pauses for a second after that, then awkwardly extends her hand without taking his. It’s only then that he realizes that she doesn’t know what a handshake is. He chuckles, grabs her hand, and gives it a quick shake. Her eyes light up in amusement.
“You should get some sleep,” she murmurs. “I’ll keep watch for a little while longer.”
He’s about to protest when the exhaustion in his system finally hits him and he yawns. Blearily he crawls over to his brother, hoping his request for her not to stay up too late is actually intelligible. He falls asleep before his head hits the grass.