A Line which marks the Limits of an Area

While the elven tents are located along the western and southern sides of the wall and the market can be found in the north, we are currently heading east. That's the supposed place where humans enslaved by their own kin have nested themselves. We pass through the centre, the place I've traversed with Mother that day. This is a place where the elves have made almost something of a communal place for themselves, so even now one can see a few of them here.

There's one woman taking care of an entire batch of children. That does seem to be the most logical way of childrearing with those circumstances, delegating that to a single individual. As long as all children are fully elves, that is. The designated nanny seems to currently be taking care of a few wounded children as well; I wonder what happened to them. Wait, no, on a second look, I know exactly what happened to them. I take the lead and hurry Eleanor along; I don't want to be spotted by the children we beat up earlier...

Not much further and we reach the boundary. How do I know? Space is a precious thing in here; our proverbial sea of tents, where there's barely any room left to traverse, proves that without a doubt. But right at the edge of the elven centre is a continuous gap with nothing, nothing at all. Ten metres across, maybe, if I had to give an estimate; you can see the squalid housing continue. I assume this great divide continues from somewhere close to the market to somewhere near the wall in the southeast. I would have expected some kind of physical barrier, but the cultural one seems more than sufficient here...

"From now on, we need to be real careful. Don't get caught!"

Ah yes, I almost forgot, we are going in there. I do have my reservations about this – quite a lot of them, actually. Those humans, they keep to themselves for a reason. Even if now enslaved with the elves, that doesn't mean they'll play nice with them. If they find two small, perceived elvish children among their midst, we'll be lucky if they don't skin us alive. Even more so if the target of our great heist here has a dagger.

"How did a slave get a dagger? I thought only the guards had weapons."

"He's still fresh here; he brought it in from the outside."

"They can do that?"

"Some of them can..."

Maybe if you still have some friends outside, you could smuggle something in. Friends powerful enough to bribe the guards but not powerful enough to get you out. Makes sense.

"The idiot thought showing that thing on his hip around us would keep him safe around here. Little does he know that he only painted a bigger target on his head. Let's go; I know where his tent is. He leaves the thing there when he has to work in the mines."

I suppose he very well can't show it to the guards, at least not if he wants to keep it.

Thus, Eleanor and I hurry across the boundary as quick as our little legs carry us.

"Being new, he got a bad spot close to the border; it's over there."

She points a bit further in. She speaks in hushed tones now, to not attract any untoward attention. Sneaking further, one thing becomes rather clear: this place is a bit cleaner than the rest of our slum. I think I can actually smell the scent of some soap around here. Those gifts from outside go a long way, it seems. The dwellings here do seem to be a fair bit more structured as well. While still consisting largely of tarp, they appear more angular, betraying likely the existence of a better frame. There might be a lot of things worth taking here, either for oneself or to sell to others...

Closing in on our target without issue, Eleanor points at one tent. Giving our surroundings a quick once-over and making sure the coast is clear, we head inside. Not much in here really...

"Take whatever you want; he'll notice someone's been here anyway when his dagger's missing..."

She searches the bedding. I'll take a look at the shelves then. Not much worth taking really, except for one thing: a rather small, almost used-up piece of soap. Bingo! I'll be taking that; don't mind if I do.

When I turn around, I am greeted by the sight of Isha sticking her head through the cloth walls.

"See anything funny?"

"Actually yes. The outside."

I thought she was trying to be funny, but now that I think about it, she's a frigging ghost. Of course she can pass through solid objects.

"You are tethered to me in some way, right? How far can you leave me?"

She leaves the tent, phasing straight through the wall.

"About as far as the next tent; the farther I go, the foggier everything around me gets..."

"Can you still see anything over there?"

"Yeah, someone's sleeping here."

"Can you stand guard around the tent and alert me if someone comes?"

"I can try..."

Today's been really insightful on the matter of what she is able to do and how we can use that to our advantage. I'm so lucky to have her...

Having found the dagger while I was setting up my Isha-radar, Eleanor unsheathes and shows it to me. I'm no expert in ironworking, but it looks like a serviceable weapon. No chips or major blemishes of the sort. We have what we came for and even a little extra. We should leave now. I sure as hell don't want to have to deal with the owner of this blade...

"Someone's coming! Hide! QUICKLY!"

I jinxed it. Shit. Where could one even hide in here? There's nothing besides a shelf and a bedroll. If hiding's a no-go...

"Give me the dagger, now!"

"Huh, why?"

Now is not the time to be difficult, Eleanor dear!

"I hear someone coming. We need to leave now!"

She gives me the weapon, which I promptly use to cut an opening into the tarp.

"Quickly now!"

I hurry her outside and scurry after as quickly as I can; however, the owner of this humble abode still sees me leaving through his brand new back door of my making.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I'LL WRING THE LIFE FROM YOUR TINY NECK!"

This is the cue to start running. Eleanor seems to have thankfully understood this and runs toward the elven centre without needing further input from me. I, of course, follow suit. I'd rather not have my life wrung from my neck. I sprint to the best of my ability, but I am the one with the smallest legs in this chase. Against a grown man with bigger legs, I've got no chance. He'll catch up to me sooner or later. I need to think of something, some kind of trick. Thinking while running for your life is quite hard, I might add. I must make it beyond the boundary; otherwise, I am quite literally dead. That much is certain...

"Isha, can you float upwards? I need tiny spots; ones he can't fit through."

"On it!"

She does as I say, flying upwards and getting a bird's-eye view. None of the structures here are too tall, so she might find something.

"Got it! Next right!"

I love you, Isha! I'll follow your every direction! After turning right, I see a bunch of crates piled up, a makeshift wall if you will. With a small hole at the bottom, just the right size for me. I slide on through, scraping my knees a bit. He'll have to make a detour; this should be enough of a lead to get me back to the elven quarters. He isn't going to follow me there, is he?

Just as I finished passing the boundary, the man emerged on the other side.

"YOU DIRTY THIEF! I'LL KILL YOU AND EVERYONE DEAR TO YOU!"

Shit! Shit! Shit!

"At the next fork, go right and jump into the crate you'll find there."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me..."

I steel what little remains of my nerves and decide to trust her with my life. I turn right, jump into the crate, close my eyes and hold my breath. I'd pray right about now if I knew who I could turn to. My pursuer's footsteps were coming ever closer, closer, closer yet...

But he runs right past me. Phew. That was way too close for comfort.

"What the hell's a human doing here?"

"Your kind isn't welcome around here!"

Now I get it; Isha saw a few men returning from the mines and led him right into them. I peek outside my hiding spot. What I see now is 4 elves brutally beating the very man, who seemed very imposing to me just a second ago, to a bloody pulp.

"One of you stole something from me! I just wanted it back!"

He tries to explain himself; he tries to protest. All in vain. This is the reason why 10 metres of emptiness separate these two races. Whoever intrudes upon the other will not live to see another day. The hatred of the elves for all humans will be this man's cause of death; his fate is sealed. I don’t want to watch this any longer; I'll just leave...

Wandering the streets aimlessly for some time, I wonder how I should go about finding Eleanor now. I still have that dagger. This entire time I've been holding on to it with all my might; relaxing my fist now actually hurts. But this thing isn't what I wanted; we still need to trade it for our prize. But only she knows who actually wants this thing. I sigh. At least she should be fine; he chased after me, not her.

"There you are! You made it!"

There's the girl I wanted to see. She takes my hand.

"That was a close one; I thought I'd lost you."

I am unsure if she's talking to me or the dagger in my hand...

"Anyway, let's get our dinner."

She drags me someplace not that far away from where we currently are, to one of the few entirely wooden structures. On the way there, I spot Loren talking to someone. Must be close to that construction project of his. Inside sits an elderly elf, faced away from us. He gives us a quick glance, spotting the dagger in my hand.

"Throw it to the pile."

Eleanor takes the dagger and removes some bedding on the floor, revealing a pile of weapons. A dozen or more, I'd estimate at a glance. She adds ours to the pile and hides it again. The man gets up, gives her a brown burlap sack and sits back down.

"Until next time, old man."

We leave the dwelling. From the sack she produces a loaf of bread, fresher than I've ever seen before in this world, and a large flask of water.

"Here, your share! I've got to go feed Mother. See you later!"

She smiles ear to ear as she leaves. I too should return home, but there's still one thing I have to do today...

I seek out Loren, the only grown man I know who might be willing to help me. He seems like he cares about his community, so he'll listen.

"What are you doing here, child of Rinah?"

He looks at me with an expression I can't quite place.

"What do we do when one of us dies?"

He visibly flinches at the last part. Yeah, that's his issue with me alright. I'm not one of them. But he is still listening to me...

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know Eleanor?"

"I do. What about her?"

"Her mother hasn't woken up, and she smells terrible."

His face softens; he seems to understand. I don't even have to educate him on the dangers of disease a rotting corpse will bring.

"Can we bury her?"

He hesitates for a moment. His face distorts in anger for but a fraction of a moment, but afterwards he smiles softly at me.

"I'll take care of it; don't you worry."

Yeah, I know we can't bury her; where would we even put the graves? He'll most likely have to burn her.

"But please don't tell Eleanor I told you!"

He nods. He understands. I hope one day I can see eye to eye with him, despite my blood...

That night Eleanor's screams could be heard all over the city, as Loren and, I'll assume, a few friends of his tore her mother away from her. But it's for the best. If she is to grow past her death, her denial needs to be broken. And I'll be there for her from now on...