A Beginning

It happened at midnight. Of course it did. It always happened at midnight, whatever the "it" was. Nothing interesting ever happened at noon, or a pleasant mid-morning. Nooooo, it always had to be midnight.

She grumbled to herself, rolled out of the bed, and started staggering to the door from which behind came an incessant knocking. The audacity! She'd have to teach the door a lesson later. She rubbed her eyes a bit, realized it was probably someone behind the door that was causing the knocking, and slowly opened it, peeking her head out. She was greeted by the grinning face of Avery, a cousin of hers. She supposed that made sense. He was the only other one in the cottage, after all.

"What do you want?" She asked blearily.

"I found a lead." Avery's grin widened. She blinked a few times.

"Can it wait until morning?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Fantastic." She cut him off, closed the door, locked it, and returned to the warm respite of her covers. She had already fallen asleep by the time the knocking resumed.

About six hours later, she awoke yet again. This time in a marginally better mood, as she hadn't been awoken by an audacious door. The events just hours before occupied that half remembered "did-that-actually-happen-or-did-I-dream-it" state of her consciousness. Maybe one quarter remembered. She was fairly certain it was a dream. Doors couldn't knock themselves, after all. She changed into her clothes for the day, before leaving her room and heading to the small kitchen near the center of the cottage.

Upon entering, she first saw Avery sitting at the table with a very familiar grin. In the light of day, opposed to a relatively dark hallway at the witching hour, his features were much easier to pick out. The half elf was about six feet tall, with thick dark brown hair that was almost perpetually swept back. His eyes were of a similar color. Despite being nearly twenty years old, he still had a rather boyish face structure. It reflected his disposition fairly well, she thought to herself.

"That was awfully rude of you, Anya." He kept grinning. Not a dream, then. Avery continued. "Is your delicate human constitution too fragile to handle a brief midnight conversation?" Anya sighed, and wandered around the small room, grabbing a pot of rabbit stew from the previous night and placing it on the stove, before placing some firewood beneath. She lit it with a nearby tinderbox, before speaking.

"You have the exact same sleep capabilities as I do, Avery. We both know you can't meditate the same way full-blood Elves do. I just value sleep more than you do."

"A fatal weakness, in my opinion!" He deepened his voice and raised a finger upwards, shaking it slightly at her. A moment later he dropped the hand back to the table and snickered a bit.

"Mhm, I'm sure." Anya sat down as well while they waited for the stew to be adequately reheated.

"So, I waited until morning. Mind hearing me out now?"

"Yeah, sure. I can't guarantee I'll agree with whatever you're about to say, but I'll at least listen to it."

He learned forward, putting his elbows on the table and locking eyes with her. She was half-lidded, slowly blinking and fairly sleepy still, so it took a bit more effort than expected. "I found a lead. Someone in the village said they passed through heading south, about a week ago."

Anya sighed softly. So that's why he was back late. Anya herself tried to avoid going to the village -- she was generally more comfortable in anonymity up in the cottage -- but Avery went roughly once a month, occasionally buying supplies, but most often asking around to find out if Anya's parents or Avery's father had been nearby. They'd vanished about two years ago, and while Anya was confident they had just ran out on them -- raising children in the Mad King Terin's domain was no small task -- Avery was convinced they had been taken, or perhaps left to protect the children, or even gone on some grand quest. Anya stood up and wandered back to the stove, using a spoon to scoop some of the stew into a couple of bowls.

"Who saw them?" She set a bowl down in front of him, before sitting back down and starting to eat.

Avery looked down and said something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Old Man Sern..." he muttered. Anya choked on her stew and started coughing. Whether it was surprise or actual laughter was up to debate.

She had recovered within a few moments. "The old dwarf who's liver should've given out centuries ago? The one who's only survived this long because of constant magic use and natural dwarven resistances? HE'S who you're trusting?"

"He's still KIND OF lucid!" Avery's voice took on a defensive tone.

"He's a damn moonshiner who's spent literal centuries drinking so much of his own alcohol -- which would kill nearly anyone besides a dwarf on the spot, by the way -- most of the village barely considers him sentient anymore!"

Avery sat back in his chair, grumbling and eating the stew. That had been easier than Anya had expected. She had no interest in going out to find their family, if they were even still alive, but if Avery thought even a little bit of hearsay was viable he'd take their supplies and go wandering off. Knowing him, he'd probably drag her along with. Ridiculing him probably wouldn't be the best long term strategy, and he might still go looking for them anyways.

"Okay, how about this," Anya said as she stood up, gathering the now empty bowls, "after I reset the traps, I'll go down to the village and help you ask around. Maybe someone more reliable saw them." With any luck, Sern was just drunk and hadn't actually seen them. If that was the case, no one more reliable would have seen them, and Avery would, in theory, drop it for a while. If her parents had actually been through town... well, she'd deal with that then.