The Hunter

[cigarsmoke]

The Hunter

This story contains allusions to mature and graphical content, implied though not written. If this disturbs you, please read no further.

Her first memories. She is small child, perhaps six. A mop of curly black hair sits atop her head, slightly pointed ears poking through. She sits in her kitchen on a small stool, watching a human woman with auburn curls cook as she kicked her tiny feet. A wood elf man, with long, straight raven hair, tribal markings decorating his face, painted them from the small dining room adjacent on a small canvas, laughing with a smile on his face. "Talinda, if you keep kicking, I'll never get this right!"

The young woman cooking laughed, shaking her head. "Tahlethil, love, you can't expect a little girl to sit that still, especially the one we have. She's got my energy, and your curiosity! Though where she gets this appetite..." She grinned down at the little girl, spooning some of the stew onto a wooden spoon and blowing on it, before bending over and holding it toward the eagerly grinning child's mouth, the young girl quickly devouring what was on the spoon. "Papa?" She asked.

"No talking with your mouth full, Talinda. I'm going to pretend you're not talking until you've swallowed!" He grinned slyly from the small easel, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and laughing softly as the little girl quickly swallowed, followed by the little girl jumping off the stool and padding her way toward him, tugging on an elegant green tunic. "Papa? Can I go see Michael and his brother and play?"

The woman in the kitchen bit her lip, looking to Tahlethil. He frowned as he met her gaze. For a moment a silent communication seemed to run between them, the woman giving a bit of a pleading look, her blue eyes as wide and bright as her daughter's. "Linnae..." Tahlethil sighed, then looked down to his daughter. He pointed a sharp finger at her. "If the boys' father is home you come right back to the house, you understand me? And bring the boys with you. Or at least the younger one..." He sighed, shaking his head, though Linnae smiled kindly at him.

"That boy never leaves his mother. They're good boys, Tahlethil." She said softly.

"Aye, they are, they are... With the right influence, they may grow up to be fine men. I hate that we can do nothing." Tahlethil grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he looked out their window onto the city streets, glancing the few blocks down dirt-packed alley.

To Be Continued