Tales of the Hollow Heart

Chapter Eight: A Basket of Wool

It suddenly strikes Esvelie just how difficult it is to navigate the hideout camp of the Northern Flats. On top of the dugouts appearing identical from above ground, the area swarms with far more Eleaves than she could have ever anticipated. Her head whips back and forth, constantly distracted by different and new elements. One moment, a large group of chattering Eleaflings will walk by, and in the next moment, she'll be dodging the path of a horse-drawn wagon. Where did that come from?

Upon closer inspection, she begins to notice that the entrances for each dugout vary in size, some much larger than others. Layers of luscious, green grass ingeniously disguise the rampways descending each dugout, making them even more difficult to detect from above ground.

She feels Acron's nose brush against her right ear as he cautiously peeks around the side of her head, quickly hushing him when he lets out an involuntary squeak of amazement. Turning away from onlookers, she tries to keep her facial features statuesque as she whispers, "Acron, I know you can see the treeline from here, so if you need to go and search for food, just come and find me before we have to return to our dugout."

A worst-case scenario flashes through Esvelie's mind where Acron gets caught. The nightmarish image beholds the terrified and livid faces of Northern Flats residents. She mulls over the implications of her secret being revealed, as well as how quickly she, Engom, and Ryvia would be banished from the Northern Flats. The last thing they need is to become enemies of the only Eleaves who can help them. "One more thing, Acron. Don't get caught." Esvelie swallows the dry lump in her throat. "Please?"

Clicking in indignation, Acron swipes his tail across Esvelie's cheek, causing her hair to flip upward as a result. Grinding her teeth and paranoidly eyeballing her surroundings, she sighs once she realizes they haven't been seen. Another click from Acron ensues and Esvelie holds her fingers against her temples, desperately whispering, "Alright, alright, I get it! You won't get caught! I'm sorry for even suggesting it." The end of her statement is laced with sarcasm.

After puffing in contentment, Acron makes quick work of wriggling beneath Esvelie's cloak, scurrying down her back, and launching himself from her left leg. Esvelie hears the soft impact of his paws as he hits the grass, and staying low, he nimbly races toward the treeline south of the Northern Flats. A moment of doubt leaves Esvelie wondering if he'll be alright, but she forces herself to remember he's lived in that forest his entire life, even if not in that exact part of the forest.

Taking a deep breath, she begins roaming past different dugouts, noting their particular sizes as well as the general activity surrounding each. An enormous white cloud seems to gradually rise from one of the smaller dugouts, which she soon discovers to be a large pile of wool in a basket being held by a petite Eleaven girl with messily braided barley-colored hair. The hue is only somewhat lighter than Esvelie's hair color. Her vivid green eyes are a piercing contrast to the otherwise neutral tones of her skin, hair, and clothing.

Seeing the struggle on the Eleaven girl's face as she wrestles with the bulky and overflowing basket of wool, Esvelie quickly jogs up to her and steadies the swaying pile with her right hand. "Do you need some help with that?" Esvelie offers shyly.

Nodding briskly, the girl puffs, "Thanks!"

Bearing the weight of one side of the basket, Esvelie marvels at how strong this Eleaven girl must be to have carried it this far on her own, her thin frame merely a facade of her true strength. Attempting to shuffle backward without tripping, Esvelie asks, "Where to?"

"Straight behind you." The girl replies. "We're going into the adjacent dugout. Be mindful of your footing when you reach the ramp!" A bead of sweat begins to roll down her temple.