“I'll show you my face if you show me yours!” Serinde challenged the voice that rang out just outside the ruined house's walls.
She had scrambled to her feet and grabbed the knife that had ended the life of another a few hours ago. Perhaps she would have to put it to use again.
Erilas tried to sit up and turn to face the direction the voice had spoken from, but she winced at attempting to move her neck around too quickly. Still, the hurt elf picked up another blade they had procured from the deceased guards and held it tightly.
“Such bravery,” the male voice chided.
Slowly, an older elf stepped into the light of their fire from outside the ruins.
“I suppose you'll think very highly of yourself if you stabbed an elder with your knife when all he wants is a bit of your fire,” he said. “Not much better than those Enoth thugs, eh?”
His hair was a dark gray color and long. It was tied into a messy ponytail. His clothes were made of simple green cloth and brown leather and spoke of many days of travel. A small pack rested on his back, which was slightly hunched.
“You two look like you've had a pretty awful day,” he said, stopping to observe the both of them.
Without invitation or further pause, the visitor sat down and began to warm his hands with the small fire Serinde had built. She had yet to put her knife down or change her defensive stance.
“Who are you?” she asked, still unsure if they could trust this wanderer. Maybe had had been sent by the empire to find them and kill them? Maybe he was disguised as an old man to try to kill them both? There was something about him that made him seem untrustworthy to her.
“Names, titles, monikers, they're all so useless sometimes!” the elf said as he removed his pack.
Serinde tensed as he plunged his hand into the bag. He looked up at her and laughed, far too loudly for her liking.
“What? Think I'm going to stick you with my dried fruit?” he said as he pulled out a few pieces of long red strips and waved them at her.
“If I had wanted to kill you both, this would not have been the way I would have gone about it,” he said as he took a bite of the strips and looked at them both.
“Sit down, girl,” he said as he looked up at Serinde. “Keep your knife at your side if you must but I am no threat to you.”
Erilas looked up at Serinde, who did not take her eyes off the newcomer, but slowly sat down opposite him and close to her sister. If the old one did attack, she would not let him get Erilas without going through her.
“Comfortable?” the elf asked her, a snide look on his face.
“Who are you?” Serinde asked again, recognizing that he had not answered her question.
"That question isn't nearly as important as what the quarry bosses are going to think when you two don't show up tomorrow," the elf replied through a mouthful of fruit.
Serinde considered him for a moment. She turned to Erilas, who shrugged her shoulders.
"How did you know we work in the quarry?" Serinde asked.
The elf snorted.
"There are two Enoth guards freshly dead out there. There's no elf settlement the empire hasn't emptied in a five day's walk, and you haven't got enough provisions to last more than two. The both of you have the look of long days in the pit and not enough of what the rest of the south needs."
Serinde and Erilas exchanged looks again. This time, it was Erilas who spoke.
"And what does the south need, stranger?" she asked in a weak voice.
The gray haired elf looked at them both before turning his gaze to the fire and taking another bite from his supply.
"Freedom," he said simply. "And my name is Omior. I'm from Eccott. The only free elf city on Irradan."