Water surged around her as the axe angled toward her head, but her response was too slow. The nascent shield was still forming in front of her body when the weapon struck, biting deep into the water before freezing in place. A reverse tug-of-war ensued as her assailant pressed down harder, inching the axe closer and closer to her head, while she mustered the waters to resist.

I. can. do. this.

She froze as the cold steel kissed her forehead, and the shield collapsed, spewing water all over her. She stomped angrily, sending the water flying as she shook her long, lilac hair dry. "Argh! I had it."

With a well-practiced flick of his wrist, Mullu-Lim resheathed his axe before patting her on the head. "You've got to learn to keep your focus, little fawn. You let yourself get distracted when I yelled and didn't start forming your shield until it was too late."

"Hmmph." Qas̆pa crossed her arms, pouting. "Maybe, if you didn't use dirty tricks…"

"Qas̆pa…" It was all he said, but the waves of disappointment radiating off the old elf stilled her grumbling.

"Fine, I know we can't expect enemies to play fair," she admitted.

"And you shouldn't play fair either," he reminded her. "Victory isn't dependent solely on how powerful you are, but on how well you can leverage that power."

She paused to wring the water out of her hair and perked it up once it was mostly dry. "Can we try again? I'm sure I can get it this time! Please, Limmy!"

The look she gave him was enough to melt a heart of stone, but Mullu-Lim steeled himself and shook his head. "Not today, little fawn. When your mother gets back, I'll have more time, but for now, Tōrin and I have to make sure all of our people are being taken care of. Why don't you play with some other children?" He suggested. "It would be good for you to have a few friends."

She hung her head, refusing to meet his eyes, as she scuffed her feet against the dirt. "They don't like me…they call me a troll." In truth, 'troll' was the nicest thing they called her, but Qas̆pa had realized by now there was little point in telling the adults what the children said.

She knew her mother had tried to put an end to it, but millennia of ancient hatred couldn't be undone by a few scolding words.

The children had quickly learned to hold their tongue when in front of adults, but the taunts had only escalated as soon as they were free of prying eyes. The Fey children, who didn't have a long history of clashing with the Gemlirians, didn't hate her like the elves did, but they weren't willing to risk social isolation to stand up for her either. It was pointless.

Mullu-Lim sighed, and crouched down in front of her. "Hey, look at me." He lifted her chin with a gentle finger, forcing her to look him in the eye. "There is nothing wrong with you, little fawn, and one of these days, they'll realize it. Okay?"

She nodded mutely, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to keep back the tears that were on the verge of spilling over, and he wrapped her in a quick hug before standing back up. "I won't make you go play with the children, but you have to promise me you'll stay out of trouble, alright?"

"Promise," she muttered, and he patted her head fondly before trundling off.

Qas̆pa pondered her options for the day as Mullu-Lim faded out of sight. She was still hankering for a fight, certain that if she could have had just one more try, she could have blocked Limmy's blow, but there was no one else she could go to for training.

No one except Tesha, the green-skinned Fey leader, but after Qas̆pa had nearly been eaten alive on her first - and last - training trip with the Fey, mother had forbidden her to train with her unless she, Mullu-Lim or Tōrin was available to supervise. Still, she considered tracking down the Fey anyway before deciding against it. I should keep my promise. Maybe Torin's not busy?

Qas̆pa knew it was unlikely; the old elf was second only to Aphora in the community and with her mother currently unavailable, many of her responsibilities had devolved on his shoulders, but she decided to search for him anyway.

Racing out of the training field, she headed toward the edge of the town, toward the new acropolis that kept watch over the city. With the goddess' temple finally finished, work had now begun on the district around it. Plots had been staked out for a house of healing, a market, a courtroom, and - most exciting of all in her opinion - a grand amphitheater, where they could stage plays and rituals for their holy days.

Qas̆pa wasn't sure which plot he'd be meddling in today, but the old elf could almost always be found by the acropolis, both to oversee the construction and to keep an eye on the quarrels that sometimes broke out between the Fey and elven craftsmen, who often had very different ideas of how a building should look.

She got distracted along the way, pausing to climb the large, flowering tree whose boughs hung low above the sparkling, lilac waters and splashed in the shallows, chasing the crayfish out of their hiding spots, before remembering her mission. Drenched once again, she trudged dutifully the rest of the way to the acropolis, her eyes searching the small crowd of workers.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The men ignored her as she darted through the site, only acknowledging her with a short bark of warning when she wandered too close to the work. Only a handful offered her friendly nods, but most of them felt no more kindly toward her than their children did - they were just better at hiding their distaste.

Ignoring the sour looks, she cheered up when she spotted Tōrin beside her favorite construction spot - the amphitheater - and skipped over to him. "Tōrin! Tōrin!"

He greeted her with a smile and a shake of his head. "Did you comb your hair today, Qas̆pa?" He said disapprovingly. "I know you promised Aphora you would do so faithfully while she was gone."

"I did!" she protested indignantly. "It just got messed up when I was fighting with Limmy!"

"Let me guess - Mullu-Lim had to go, and now you're hoping for magic lessons?"

Tōrin chuckled as she bobbed her head eagerly. "Unfortunately, lass, I don't have the time today. The work on the amphitheater has fallen behind schedule, and if we want to have it ready for the feast next week, we can't afford to waste any more time."

"Oh." The enthusiasm ebbed out of her, but she understood - everyone was looking forward to the show Aphora had promised once the theater was operational. "Promise you'll get it done by then?"

"We'll try," he replied noncommittally and gave her a fond pat on the head before returning to his work.

With her plans for the day truly scuppered, Qas̆pa decided to head back home. Maybe, with any luck, she would be able to talk the stable boy into letting her ride one of Aphora's horses. But as she reached the bottom of the acropolis, her eye caught a glimpse of the woods lying beyond the city. I might be able to find a fight there.

She hesitated, remembering the close call she'd had the last time she wandered out alone and the promise Amphora had wrung out of her. But she brightened as she found the loophole in her promise - she hadn't said she'd never go back, she'd merely promised to be careful. With a happy smile, she skipped off toward the forest.

Despite being deep underground, the vast caverns of Arallû were large enough to have weather systems of their own, and a light, warm rain began to fall on her as she crossed the last of the cultivated fields. She gathered her hair in a bun to keep it from the grasping limbs of the trees, and picked up the pace, sloshing through the muddy fields with glee.

As she reached the tree-line, Qas̆pa slowed down, pausing to choose her direction. The cliffs she had climbed last time were not far away, but a tiny pang of fear pulsed through her heart at the thought of returning there. The stream she'd found had been magical, but the beast she'd encountered had nearly torn her apart. Mother wouldn't want me to go back there, she decided, not wanting to admit to herself that she also was too afraid to go back.

Instead, she turned and headed parallel to the trees, angling toward the shore in the distance. It was a good day for a swim, as long as she stayed in the shallows, and it would be easy to practice her magic beside the shore.

"Aaaaggggh!" Qas̆pa spun around as a scream erupted from the forest behind her. Water shimmered at the tips of her fingers, slowly forming into a short, dripping blade as she searched for the screamer, but she saw no one

"Momma! Help!" This time, she was quite certain that it was coming from the nearby forest, and the angry barking that accompanied the cries painted a vivid picture.

Qas̆pa broke into a sprint, ducking beneath the low-hanging boughs of the evergreen trees as she headed toward the source of the cries. She let her water blade lapse as she climbed over fallen tree trunks and beneath the dense thickets in a mad scurry.

"Heellpp!" A small clearing loomed ahead, where a boulder detached from the nearby cliff had knocked down a swathe of trees. The old trunks still littered the ground, dark masses of rotting wood and thick green moss that filled the air with a rich earthy smell, while tall grass had begun to spring up in the spaces between.

She couldn't see the screaming child, but she spotted the source of the barking almost immediately. Standing on top of a pair of fallen logs, the unknown canid was longer and squatter than a wolf, with mottled fur that blended nearly perfectly into the foliage and an oversized head that sported overlapping fangs. Its most unusual feature, though, was the split tail that wagged vigorously as it clawed at the logs, sending splinters of rotting wood flying.

As the boy again, she realized he must have crawled into the crevasse between the fallen logs, but at the rate the dog-like thing was destroying them, it wouldn't hold much longer. She cycled her essence again, focusing on the narrow, dripping blade that manifested from her hand as she crept toward the beast.

*snap* Qas̆pa froze as she stepped on a twig, and the canid's tails stopped wagging. She crouched behind a fallen log as its head swiveled sharply, searching for the intruder, but the log couldn't hide her from its senses. It raised its head, sniffing loudly, before jumping off the fallen trunks and sauntering in her direction.

She shrank lower, plastering herself against the crumbling wood, and kept the blade active while she tried to cast a shield with her other hand. A sphere of water expanded from her fingers and popped uselessly, showering her in water as the sound of crunching footsteps approached. Another faceful of water met her second attempt, and the log shuddered as the canid leapt on it.

A wave of fetid air greeted her as the beast loomed over the edge, looking down at her. Its fangs were long and yellowed, with chunks of rotten meat trapped between its gums and a long trail of drool.

The steady staccato of her heartbeat drowned out all other sounds as the two stared at each other, silent tears streaming down her face, but she raised her blade defiantly, willing the creature to focus on the glowing blade and not the small orb of water blossoming on her other hand.

With a pop, a shimmering shield of water sprang into place as the beast pounced. The spell wavered as its claws dug in, piercing through the mere inch of swirling water that fended it off, but it held firm. With a bewildered yelp, the beast slipped off the shield, slamming into the ground with a thud, and Qas̆pa lunged forward.

She lost all sense of self as she struck out in a frenzied flurry. Rolling back to its feet, the canid pounced again, bracing itself with both paws against her shield as it tried to gnaw its way through, but the attempt exposed its belly. The water blade struggled to pierce the thick fur and stomach, but as a trickle of blood mingled with the water, the beast lost its will to continue the struggle. Leaping away with a pained yelp, it scampered off into the forest in search of easier prey.

She stayed frozen against the log for a moment, struggling to find the courage to will herself to move, and nearly screamed as the log jostled again. But then a boy's face popped over, one she recognized from her abortive attempts to go to school. "Are you okay?"

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