<span style="font-family:font1522365474">Avi clenched his jaw as the elf turned away. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out, dying just as they formed in his throat. Was he so ignorant to believe that she’d want to travel with him after all that’s happened? He only watched as she stumbled through the brush, his eyes absorbing her movements entirely. The life of a mercenary was not an easy one, but it came with a certain lifestyle similar to that of a hunter: how to find your prey, track it down, and kill it. Coincidentally, the same applied to humans. He noticed that the elf had a slight limp in her right leg, and made note of it. A wound that size would slow down even a bear. The decently-sized gash stretched across her calf, constantly oozing blood and scabbing over, mixing with dirt and dust to create a mire of brown and crimson flesh. If left untreated, the wound would fester, with the only cure at that point being amputation. His best guess was that she’d find a way to disinfect the wound before it got worse. And he recalled correctly, there was a small stream near by. His instincts told him that she’d be there. His instincts also told him that he’d get shot if he got too close. Avi let out a drawn out sigh. <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">This is going to be a long day</span></i>.</span><br/><span style="font-family:Philosopher"><br/>
The mercenary followed a trail of broken twigs and crunched leaves. It wasn’t hard to track the elf, but perhaps her intention wasn’t so much as to lose him, but to take his life instead. It wasn’t uncommon for his targets to leave a false trail, only to ambush him from behind. Avi had plenty of bad memories of being shot, stabbed, or slashed at from behind, as well as many scars to prove it. Without looking over his shoulder, he shrugged the thought off. If the elf wanted to kill him, she’d have done it sooner. He didn’t fully understand the sentiment she held against humans, but the fact that he was still walking told him something: she didn’t feel the need to kill him… Yet.<br/>
<br/>
Avi recalled to when he was a child. His memories of that period of his life were fuzzy at best, but he remembered the faces of his mother and father: two low-class plebeians struggling to make ends meet for themselves, much less for their children. Despite this, Avi couldn’t recall a time in his life that he went to bed hungry - at least when he lived under his parent’s roof. They taught him the little they knew, fed him more than themselves, and loved him a lot more. The elven genocide was something his mother knew a lot about, but how could you explain the political complexities of race, oppression, and rebellion to a child? Avi shook his head. Whatever happened between the elves and humans, it wasn’t good. Perhaps he was wrong in assuming that he and the elf could somehow make amends for the millions of lives lost. He replayed how he handled their interaction over and over in his mind. He could’ve easily bound her by her feet and dragged her across the Groves, but then she would’ve never helped him find the cure. Thus, kindness was the only option, even if she rejected it. His sister’s life depended on it.<br/>
<br/>
Avi reached a small clearing in the forest and paused. There the elf was, propped up against one of the many red trees. The exhaustion was getting to her. His first instinct was to offer her water, but upon hearing the words coming out the elf’s mouth, his generosity died. The ire in his gut burned. He wanted to slap the girl across the face for being so ignorant and bigoted. Instead, he sighed, letting the fire extinguish itself out before he spoke. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">You know</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> not every human wants to destroy the elves</span>.” He began, drawing his sword. The blade was the bane of his existence, the object that brought him both wealth and hatred. It was once a magnificent show of craftsmanship, but had lost its gleam with age and experience. Numerous scratches and chips adorned the edge of the blade, gleaming in the sunlight as if it were boasting its scars. <br/>
<br/>
Avi tossed it aside.<br/>
<br/>
The sword skidded and rolled through the dirt. Making a metallic clang as it slammed into a rock as it came to a halt. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ll be honest here</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">My actions are not out of the goodness of my heart</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I did not save you out of pity</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">but out of my own self interest</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Someone important to me is dying of a disease known only to your people</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Only you</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">and you alone</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">can help me</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">But you</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">re no good to me dead</span>.” Avi regretted the words he said as they left his mouth. There were thousands of more convincing lies he could’ve said. Hundreds of other phrases that wouldn't have put him in such a disadvantageous position. He shook his head. <i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">If I die</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">,</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> at least I</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffffff">’</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ll die an honest man</span></i>. Slowly, he took out a leather bota bag from his side and opened the lid. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Here</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I know you</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">re exhausted from all that running</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">It</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s not poison</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I promise</span>.” He took a swig from the pouch before sealing it and tossing it over to the elf. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">It</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s just water</span>.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was steady and cautious, as if he were taming a wild beast, soft and comforting as he spoke. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Let me help you</span>.” He gestured to the elf’s leg. “<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ve seen wounds like that before</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">Trust me</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">if that doesn</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t get washed out</span>, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">it won</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">t be just a leg you</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">ll lose</span>.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000"> There</span>’<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">s a stream near by</span>. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">I can take you there</span>.”<br/>
<br/>
<i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#b30000">This is fucking stupid</span></i>. He thought. He'd made his intentions clear, at his own expense. There was nothing to be gained from telling the truth. The mercenary clenched his jaw and swore in his mind. This was the first time in his life that he’d gone this far to help another soul that wasn’t his own. Technically, it was his second.<br/>
<br/>
His sister was the reason why he was here; t</span><span style="font-family:font1522365474">he reason why he was going to die for some stubborn elf.</span>