Dark Elves

Mela ran through the village. Her feet were quiet on the dark earth between the houses that were built into the trunks of massive trees. She ran up a ramp that spiraled around a trunk and pushed open a simple wooden door.

"Mother!" she said, breathing hard.

An older dark elf looked up from the table where she was grinding herbs with a stone pestle. Her skin was the color of rich soil, and her white hair was braided with dark green leaves. 

"What is it, Mela?" she asked, her voice calm. "Calm yourself."

"Intruders," she said. "They have entered the forest."

The woman, Elder Fena, set her pestle down. Her calm expression tightened. "Has one of the children been taken?"

"No," Mela said, shaking her head. "It's a human, a young man. And he is with an elf."

Fena's posture relaxed for a moment. "An elf? Is one of our patrols lost?"

"No, Mother," she said. "She is not one of us. Her skin is pale, and her hair is the color of sunlight."