Simone was dreaming of the past, of the time spent with Ash, when suddenly the dream wanted to change.

  There was a part of her that recognized what was happening- the spirits wanted to send her a message, tell her of things to come, but there was another part of her, a part that her shaman Alteima would call petulant and stubborn, that wanted to continue the dream of her and the strange human from another land.

  Nevertheless, the dream shifted; She saw herself shouldering a spear and heading towards the north, towards the shadowy gray mountains capped in white.

  The elves of the plains did not like the mountains. They were cold, they were dangerous, and there were many predators that lurked in the craggy cliffs- some of which walked about on two legs. The nature spirits that they revered and worshipped preferred to avoid the mountains as well.

  Altogether better to remain on the plains, and away from the dangers of the mountains and forests.

  Simone herself had been to the forests just a few summers prior, however. The strange human Ashkhan Berlocke had needed to go to the forests, and Simone had guided him. That had been a world of firsts for Simone; her first encounter with humans, her first time away from her tribe’s lands, and her first unsupervised experience communing with the spirits.

  There was more to it than that, though.

  Simone had grown up surrounded by her tribe and their teachings, comfortable and content with her life and situation. Encountering the human had shown her, however, that there was more to the world.

  There were other people, other races, things outside of the scope of knowledge that she’d dwelled in. They had their own customs and languages and even beliefs.

  Ash hadn’t even known of the spirits; he’d indifferently disregarded them out of hand. He couldn’t even sense them.

  It was a shocking eye-opener for her. Everyone could sense spirits.

  While it had deeply upset and unnerved Simone, it seemed to make Alteima strangely happy. Simone couldn’t understand why that was so, but Alteima was their shaman, and shamans were half-mythical themselves, cloaking the things they said and did in so many layers of obfuscation and ambiguity it was difficult to know what they truly thought.

  She was in a cave, a strange hole in the earth, a place she would never have gone on her own. Strange-tasting water dripped from the ceiling, wet the walls, pooled on the uncertain flooring. Equally strange moss glowed with its own bioluminescence in the dark, fitfully illuminating the passage.

  Someone was nearby, close to her, a dubious ally. Every time she tried to catch a look at them, the shadowy gloom of the cave hid their face. She couldn’t get a sense of their motives, either.

  Ash had been impatient, frustrated, even scared at times, and even though he was too tall, too different in his human-ness, he hadn’t ever been scary to her.

  Her companion in this dark, wet, shadowy place terrified her with layers of inscrutability.

  “I think it’s just ahead.” She heard herself say in the dream.

  “Is it dangerous?” Her companion asked quietly.

  “I don’t want to be here at all.” Simone heard herself answer with unfeigned dread.

  There was something just ahead. The dim light in the tunnel illuminated a corner; whatever she was searching for was just around the bend. All they had to do was go just a bit further, and they would see whatever it was.

  Suddenly, the passageway became even brighter; whatever was around the corner was waking up and was lighting up as if in welcome.

  Simone swung around to look behind her, to catch a glimpse of who it was she traveled with, but the light was dazzling, too bright-

  Her eyes snapped open in her tent, suddenly aware she was panting with effort, as if she’d spent the entire day running across the plains. She was drenched in sweat, too.

  She pushed herself out of her bedroll and wiped herself down with a cloth before she dressed; she did this all automatically as her mind turned inward, dwelling on the dream she’d had.

  She’d have to speak to Alteima about it, something she wasn’t looking forward to doing.

  Simone was the shaman’s apprentice, born with the spark of talent within her to communicate with spirits. More, she could command the spirits, a rare and fickle talent. The spirits didn’t like being commanded, especially by a mortal, so that talent had to be cultivated carefully. To command something greater and more powerful than oneself, one had to be willing to accept the consequences of such audacity.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Simone suddenly straightened in the tent as something from her dream- from her vision became clear to her.

  “It was an elf.” She muttered, and then frowned. “But one I’ve never seen before.”

  She dressed simply; a double layer of cloth and fringed leather, decorated in the style of her people. Anyone that looked at her, that saw those markings, would immediately know who she was. In the rows of triangles and colors was her tribe and family; in the spirals was her attachment to the spirits, though one needed only look her in the eyes to see that.

  She stepped outside the tent and breathed in the clean air. Some of the other tribesmen glanced at her and nodded; she nodded back familiarly. Greetings were mostly unnecessary when you could recognize each other; moreso when the design, cut, and decoration of your clothes indicated who you were.

  Ash hadn’t understood. He’d always greeted her, over and over and over again. “Good morning, Simone.”, “Oh, I didn’t see you there, Simone.”, “Want some breakfast?”

  A strange human.

  She started for the breakfast fire, but Alteima intercepted her.

  “The dreams have decided to speak, haven’t they?” Alteima asked curiously, her cross-shaped pupils twinkling. “We should talk.”

  Simone frowned stubbornly.

  “Breakfast.” She demanded, a touch of petulance in her tone.

  Alteima smiled enigmatically. “Who said anything about skipping breakfast?” She prodded, but Simone knew that unless she demanded breakfast, she wouldn’t be able to eat a single bite, and simply be forced to sit and recall every detail of her dream, over and over, until Alteima was satisfied she’d gleaned every scrap.

  “Breakfast first.” Simone repeated.

  “We’ll see.” Alteima replied. Simone stalked to the fire, Alteima on her heels, wrapped in a poncho that was intricately worked in esoteric patterns and symbols.

  As Simone made her way to the fire, she glanced at the sky and sniffed the air. The weather was beginning to shift, the air was cool and crisp, which meant that soon it would be time for the tribe to migrate south with the coming autumn.

  The elves of the plains had several defining characteristics: They were all slim and slender, with warm brown skin, pale hair, and pale eyes that tended to blues and grays; within these, Simone was no different from any of them. What set her apart was the telltale mark of the spirits that floated in her blue eyes like Alteima, the cross shape indicated to everyone that she had been blessed by the spirits.

  But even as she stood out amongst the other elves for her blessing, so did Alteima, but on a stronger scale. Her hair wasn’t pale like the others, hers was variegated streaks of brown in all sorts of hues, from a brown that was so dark as to be nearly black, to a soft blonde.

  Breakfast was a stew made from vegetables and rabbit; It wasn’t that long ago that Simone herself would have hunted the rabbits, a task left to children too small to hunt deer or bison. Even as she ate, Alteima sat herself next to Simone and stared at her expectantly, so much so, in fact, that Simone ended up self-consciously curling her arm protectively around her bowl, as if to ward off Alteima snatching it away.

  While keeping an eye on the amused Alteima, Simone eyed the cloudless sky. According to Alteima, one could predict all manner of things by looking at the sky, beyond just the weather. The stars had secrets, the moon in her inconstant phases had secrets, even the path of the sun across the sky could tell things, though Simone couldn’t discern what those might be.

  She finished her stew and scrubbed her bowl, Alteima trailing along behind her. Simone stubbornly pretended to ignore the older woman, all the while being uncomfortably aware of her.

  Alteima never said a thing; in a society as close as Simone’s tribe, most things didn’t need to be said to be known. Alteima was intensely curious about Simone’s vision and wouldn’t let Simone be about her business until Simone relented.

  Likewise, Simone wanted to put off the conversation as long as possible; the vision implied a lot of things, things that Simone wasn’t comfortable with, didn’t want to face.

  After putting her bowl away, Simone squared her thin shoulders and faced Alteima.

  “My tent.” Alteima offered solicitously. “Matters concerning the spirits should be discussed quietly, after all.”

  Simone nodded uncomfortably.

  Alteima released Simone’s hands and opened her eyes, after having Simone go over her dream. They were in Alteima’s tent, a tent that smelled of dried herbs and smoky incense.

  “There’s a lot that troubles me about this vision.” Alteima finally admitted, and then smiled at Simone enigmatically. “The least of which is that you will be leaving us again.”

  Simone folded her arms. “I hope to never leave.”

  “Your time with that human was more productive than you think.” the shaman advised. “It’s important to have many different experiences in your life, so that you gain wisdom easier.” her head tilted to the side. “How much did you learn of yourself and your tribe, while travelling with him?”

  Simone rolled her eyes.

  “The things that concern me... are the forest, that dark place... and.. The elf.” Alteima mused thoughtfully.

  Simone frowned. “Forest? I don’t recall-”

  Alteima smiled cryptically at that, but lifted her hands. “We are not the sort of elves to live in the forests, and so any risks that might lurk in them are doubly dangerous for us, since we are unknowing. You’ll want to be vigilant.”

  “I like how you take for granted that I am leaving.” Simone complained with a frown.

  “It’s not my decision or yours. It seems as though the spirits themselves have made this choice for you.” Aleima replied. “A burden we are forced to bear- spirits decide for themselves, and we are beholden to them, else we might lose their protections.”

  That sobered Simone up. The spirits protected the People of the Plains from many dangers, and had done so for countless generations. To lose the spirits’ protection was a horrifying prospect. Among the elves of the plains there was little crime, but what crime existed was punished harshly; offenders' spirit protections were stripped away and they were exiled to whatever fate befell them.

  There were things out in the world, things best left unspoken of, even in whispers.

  Altemia nodded as if Simone had spoken those things aloud.