The Last Elemental Child

The Last Elemental Child 3

Dudes. Anyone wanna comment? I don't know if I should continue or not cuz I don't get any feedback, ideas, or criticism. So yeah. 

"Drosa! Drosa, come here!" Fayelinn chased the little tabby around through the market. Onlookers watched in amusement but Fayelinn was perplexed and slightly suspicious. Why was Drosa running away from her? She had know the queen for years and she had always purred when Fayelinn would come. She lost sight of the cat but Fayelinn could still feel her running. Animals had never resisted her approach. It was just who she was. 

She sighed and stared after the general direction that Drosa had been running in. People went back to their business. Wives gathered into their little groups, some at the bakery stall, some at the fruits and vegetable stall, and others elsewhere. She looked around her and her eyes caught the silversmith's. Clayton wasn't an exceptional silversmith. Nor was his apprentice, Ali. They were normal, as was everybody else in Dayyon.

Once again, Fayelinn sighed but not from the confusion that had muddled her brain. She turned around to huff her way back to the ramshackle hut that she called a house. Which it was. Just not very..... homey. Immediately, her face and chest smacked into a barrier and Fayelinn nearly lost her balance. She looked into the cold eyes of a tall, but handsome, man. 

He was dressed in black, long pants and black boots with no laces. Hunter's boots. His long sleeved tunic was a steel gray with a black vest over it. His hands had on fingerless black glovesHe donned a black, hooded cloak that fell to almost touch the ground. What struck her odd though was that he was pale. Not severely pale, but paler than her. She noticed a bow slung on his back. Not a hunter's bow. She stared at it in awe. It was absolutely beautiful with intricate carvings around the edges. She was beginning to think that he liked black a lot.

He was definitely older than her but he could definitely catch the ladies. Even though she was staring at him, she could see the other women looking in his direction, giggling and blushing like love-struck fools. That wasn't the reason that she was staring though. He was looking at her with a smirk as if he was something important or as if he knew something that everybody else in this oblivious village. Perhaps he did. Fayelinn didn't care.

"Move, foreigner. You're in my way." She dead-panned. He raised a perfect eyebrow and rubbed the stubble on his chin. The women giggled louder. Damn him.

"You're a feisty one. What happened to 'don't talk to strangers'?" He then brushed back his thick, curly, black hair. Another round of giggles. Annoyed, her the corner of her lips twitched and she stared into his icy blue-grey eyes. She wanted to sock him in the jaw, right then and there. But she didn't. When he went to claw his hair, she had noticed the silver gleam on his waist that was previously hidden by his cloak. A sword.

"And what's a stranger like you gonna do to me? Snatch me up in the middle of the night and murder me?" She scoffed and leaned back on her right foot, her arms crossed. He smirked devilishly.

"Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?"

"About Scronere? Are all of you so blind?"

"What about Scronere?" A little blonde girl stepped forward and looked at the stranger in awe.

"Menna!" A woman grabbed the girl by the arm and began to scold her. He waved his hand at the mother.

"It's alright. I don't hurt children." He gazed into the eyes of the child. "Scronere has been searched, if one may put it that way."

"Obviously you have." Fayelinn muttered. His eyes snapped back to her, his kind demeanor towards the child suddenly gone when his eyes reached hers. Coincidently, the village leader had been walking by when he heard the man mention the nearby town Scronere. The leader was a somewhat older and pudgier man. His face was weathered by the years and his eyes were shrunken into his head. His blonde hair was thinning but neatly combed back. His attire wasn't very expensive looking, but as much as it could get in the small village.