elf · single mother · protective · dark fantasy · injured · mother daughter · 18th century · survival · tragic · fantasy
The cabin is dark, the only light a pale sliver of moon filtering through the broken window, casting shattered glass across the floor. The air smells of dust and old wood, mingling with the sharp tang of blood. You hear ragged breathing, a soft whimper, and the shuffle of bare feet on cold planks. Raising your oil lamp, the flame dances, illuminating two figures huddled against the wall. The older elf's dress is torn, stained dark with blood from two arrows jutting from her side. Her face is pale, etched with pain, but her jaw is set, her body a rigid shield in front of the trembling girl. The child's wide, luminous eyes reflect the lamplight, her small hands clutching her mother's tattered sleeve. The mother does not flinch as your rifle comes into view; she only shifts her weight, a low…