Jackal Among Snakes

“I don’t want her to hate us, but I understand why she does,” Argrave nodded as the dryads grew closer. “So long as she knows that we did what we did to hurt Erlebnis, not her.”

“Please, give this to her!” Anneliese called out, retrieving a paper from her pockets. She dropped it in the air, and then grabbed Argrave’s hand. With that left behind, she cast shamanic magic to transport them elsewhere.

When Argrave adjusted to his surroundings, he realized they were once again outside the Bloodwoods at the fringe of the giant redwoods where the battle between Kirel Qircassia and Sarikiz had taken place. He looked for Anneliese and asked, “You wrote a letter? When?”

“At Elenore’s office.” Anneliese crossed her arms defensively.

“Well… we know she’s alive,” Argrave said with as much brightness as such a statement could muster.

“We have to keep visiting her.” Anneliese told Argrave. She generally always made suggestions instead of demands, and Argrave was surprised to hear her speak so absolutely.

“If we receive the same reception every time… we’ll be burning through the spirits painstakingly collected from Chiteng’s sacrifice,” Argrave reminded her.

“I believe that would be more prudent than allowing a force of dryads persist in the center of allied territory. A force that might seek revenge against the elves at Onychinusa’s behest,” she rebuked in turn. “Please, Argrave. I will go alone henceforth to conserve spirits. I was the one that insisted on this to begin with. Let her be my responsibility.”

Argrave sighed and stepped away, thinking on this. He was greatly hesitant to allow spirits to be expended for something that might not even work. But then… this was Anneliese. She had been promising to die with him not days ago. Thinking of that, Argrave felt a little guilty for his hesitation.

“She’s too old for adoption,” Argrave looked back. “And we’re both too young for a child that age.”

Anneliese smiled, knowing from his disposition he wasn’t genuinely refusing her. “It’ll be practice.”

“Alright, go ahead.” Argrave threw up his hands. “But be very careful, Anne. Promise me that.”

“Of course.” Anneliese nodded. “For now, you must work closely with the elven armies. I shall visit every day until I am no longer refused.”

#####

stupor, the dryads attending to her every need atop a bed of soft grass. The chain that the emissary of Erlebnis had struck her with still persisted in her shoulder… and it still debilitated her A-rank ascension. She could not transform her body into magic and dance through the air… indeed, she could not even reconstitute herself as her magic supply replenished. Her leg had been severed in the fighting, and it remained so—the only reason that wound had not been the death of her was because the dryads wove branches through

in the time after the emissaries’ attack. In the first few hours after her report to Erlebnis, she hated the dryads for interfering in that moment. She clung onto some vain hope that she might’ve remedied things with Erlebnis… but that hate vanished in wake of their earnest devotion, and further upon the

with

for the sole purpose of ending her life. She

forest, to deliver a message… she was livid enough to crawl to hunt them down. Her futile crawl only served to reopen the wound on her leg, though. The dryads

the letter for days on end. Still Anneliese came, again and again… offering words, offering comforts. She knew they were lies. As had always been the case, the snow elf lied. Even still…

was angry at herself for allowing

slowly… the empty platitudes became words of startling clarity. Onychinusa hated that she cried reading them, but cry she did. Just as this woman had been the source of her greatest misery, so too did she understand precisely what that misery was. And with that taking root, Onychinusa’s feverish swings between wrath and solemn sadness came day

“Place

she thought they seemed almost eager to obey.

And when Anneliese arrived…

moment she stepped into sight, holding her hand near her

but she was still unversed at talking to people. As her head grew white with rage, she only

stepped closer, coming to stop at a comfortable distance. “Because

to prop herself up, and even as she did so thousands of dryads emerged from the forest to stand near her protectively. “Stop coming here,” she commanded. “I don’t want you here. I’ll never trust

by regenerating magic… but… is that chain stopping it?”

Lord! Stop coming here! You don’t care,” she finished, weakly raising her hand to cast magic before her

about this,” Anneliese vowed. “I will help you remove that chain,

carried

spell she’d been hit by. Onychinusa

that clearing. And in turn, Anneliese’s return was as constant as

Anneliese arrived… Onychinusa could not muster anger behind her words. She had thought about the situation half a thousand times, and Anneliese had explained herself just as many… and there was nothing left but

only listened to Anneliese. They were nothing more than words of comfort, of promise. When she thought back on the moment the emissaries had attacked her… they gave not a single word of it. Yet Anneliese… still she came, day after day, no matter how much Onychinusa wished her dead. It perplexed how the

many days, spurred by the inequity of it all, Onychinusa simply asked,

Onychinusa stared at her as she waited for an answer. Eventually, the snow elf

as she