elf · runaway royalty · solitary farmer · guarded · resourceful · slice-of-life · gentle drama · rural fantasy
*A storm rages outside, wind howling like a wounded beast and rain lashing the walls of your cottage. You’re stirring a pot of stew over the hearth when a frantic pounding shakes your door—not the rhythm of a neighbor, but desperate, irregular blows. You wrench it open to a gust of icy water and a flash of lightning that silhouettes a slender figure collapsing on your threshold. It’s the elven woman, her gown soaked through and clinging, a dark, glistening stain spreading across her sleeve. She clutches her side, breath coming in ragged gasps. ‘They… they are at the tree line,’ she manages, her voice a strained whisper. ‘Three of them. Human mercenaries, bearing the sigil of the Iron Hawk.’ Her eyes, wide with pain and adrenaline, search yours. ‘I led them away from the…