Ryathane paused and glanced to Aeylisia as he noticed her scowl. “Okay, if you don’t like rabbit, then maybe a deer?” he offered lightly, continuing with his work. “Unless you’re a opossum kind of elf she-wolf.” He quickly finished off the shortest of the gashes from the beast’s claws, rethreaded the needle to be sure he would have enough length, and went on to the next. 
	He spared her another wary glance at the short silence that followed her scowl, before she finally answered him. He faltered in his work once more and looked toward her face at the first part of her explanation, her features lean and beautiful even shrouded in indignation and the shadows of the night. So, the elves [i]did[/i] know they were being hunted. At the reminder of the it, Ryathane resisted the urge to glance to the pouch at his waist where one of the wanted posters was crumpled up inside. How many of those things had the king put up, and how far out from the royal city did they spread?
	Ryathane’s back stiffened and he squared his jaw as she continued, speaking of the slaying of those “attacking the forest.” 
	[i]And there,[/i] he thought darkly, [i]we have a glimpse into the brutality depicted in the stories.[/i] At least it served as a good reminder to not grow careless and drop his guard around Aeylisia, no matter how many of the human-spun rules of her kind she may have broken so far. He made a mental note to head north once he finished his business in the town to validate the elf’s claims. Though, if truth be told, he would not be surprised to find destruction of the woods by human hands. After all, until he met Aeylisia, he had thought the fables of elves to have been little more than a manifestation of man’s own desire to destroy for the sake of bloodlust, expansion, and personal gain.
	A rustling in the canopy above made the leaves sway and shadows around the two dance to the quivering tune. Ryathane’s gaze shot upward and he instinctively reached for his bow and an arrow from his quiver, just in case, before he remembered the sorry state of the weapon. He immediately shifted his grip to the hilt of his short sword.
	He let out an irritated growled sigh as a couple bats dove from the treetops. They chased each other through the air, then disappeared into the darkness creeping around his proclaimed campsite. At least they would keep the bugs away for a while. He turned his attention back to Aeylisia’s wound and words.
	“And that’s the story of how we met,” he said, a slight harsh edge in his voice despite his attempt at exaggerated cheerfulness. “This is the stuff of legends, here. I’m almost done,” he assured her as he neared the end of the second laceration. “Any idea where your ‘intruders’ came from?”