— You, obviously.

  Ivy blinked in confusion, not bothering to lie. The answer came quickly, without a moment of thought.

  — I know you. There’s a bit of attachment already. Real emotions and… well, sincerity. And yeah, your body really is fucking amazing. Listen, what’s all this about?

  The peasant genuinely didn’t understand what was happening. The elf’s intentions felt vague — but in their own way tempting and painfully intriguing. Did she really want this? To be taken by some small human woman who smelled of river water, sweat, and leftover dust? A woman who looked like an abandoned kitten.

  There was something else here. Something deeper than it first appeared.

  Ivy lifted Yanael’s hand and brushed her lips across the palm, leaving a small kiss on each finger. Then she stepped back.

  — Did it really hurt you that much? Hey, I just wanted to rest.

  The elf stepped away, pulling back from the peasant.

  — Sorry. Forget everything I said. Not just now — yesterday too.

  Yanael answered wearily.

  — I overdid it. Something just… came over me.

  She kicked the heavy sack with all her strength, as if remembering something. Then quickly sank down into the corner of the room. Turning her face to the wall, the blonde curled into herself, hiding her head beneath her trembling hands.

  She pressed herself into the corner like she wanted to disappear into the stone. The elf wasn’t crying or hysterical. No. It looked more like some ordinary state for her.

  Her body shook as if during a violent earthquake. Waves of horrible chills ran through her. She tried to cover every exposed patch of skin — even her long ears and delicate face.

  She was afraid to close her eyes.

  So she didn’t blink at all.

  Ivy watched her, noticing how the elf tried to shrink into nothing. She took a deep breath. She wanted to go closer. Talk. Touch her. But seeing what was happening made the answer obvious.

  Don’t.

  It would only make things worse. Better to give her time.

  Still… was that the right choice, considering Yanael hadn’t left the room? If the elf needed space, Ivy could leave instead. The rooms weren’t far apart. She needed space. Not just that miserable corner.

  The peasant walked over to the rumpled sack and picked up the wooden comb carved with patterns. She ran her fingers along the teeth, then pulled on her boots and went into the other room.

  She didn’t touch the door, leaving it open — showing that Yanael was the owner here and could come and go whenever she wished.

  Opening one of the windows, Ivy sneezed when a rush of dusty air hit her face. Rubbing her nose, she began combing her dark, stubborn hair, strand by strand.

  Her expression held confusion and a strange kind of thoughtfulness. Her full lips parted as words formed on their own.

  Her voice wasn’t quiet — but it wasn’t loud either. It could be heard if someone wanted to listen.

  — A little deer will not return home,

  The final night promises quiet and calm.

  Rain drums softly, leaves whisper low,

  The wooden path creaks beneath his step slow.

  Oh gentle deer, come closer to me,

  There’s water and shelter — just enter the cave.

  Hide in the shadows where silence will stay,

  Ancient darkness is calling your way.

  And tiny hands trembling, reaching ahead,

  Whispered softly the words they had said:

  My sweet little fawn, come closer, don’t fear,

  I’ll never harm you — come here, my dear.

  But the young deer knew what waited inside,

  Still, he stepped forward, refusing to hide.

  He bowed in the cave beneath darkness’ veil,

  And closed the ring of the empty trail.

  He sat by the fire, their gazes aligned,

  And a stranger’s hand reached for a knife at that time.

  But their eyes locked tight while the firelight shook,

  Pain and fear are trembling in the look.

  That hunter was starving, cruel and severe,

  No mercy for helpless creatures was near.

  But that night he slept with no prey in his hold,

  Clutching his screams in anger and cold.

  By morning the deer was nowhere around,

  Only howls echoed deep in the ground.

  A red-furred pack had found their prize,

  The forest took life beneath silent skies.

  And far away the small fawn stood still,

  Watching the jaws fsh fire at will.

  Why didn’t you save him? He trusted you there —

  The trees whispered softly, expecting no answer.

  But silent he stayed, stern and alone,

  The forest had taken what it called its own.

  The deer turned away and walked through the gloom,

  Returning at st to the quiet of home.

  It seemed to be a song from a forest town — one Ivy used to sing sitting among hunters in a circle. A festival honoring the forest. A small tradition borrowed from the elves. In their own way, of course.

  Those hunters believed the forest defended itself and its creatures from humans. Who else would it defend itself from?

  Ivy finished combing her hair and pulled a ribbon from the pocket of her breeches. She tied her hair into a thick tail while softly humming the final lines.

  Meanwhile, Yanael remained pressed into the corner for a very long time, curled up like a wounded bird. She truly was afraid to close her eyes, and every time she was forced to blink, she shuddered harder, letting out those small choking sounds that come when fear steals your breath.

  She tried to breathe, but the air seemed thinner and thinner. Soon the blonde felt like she was suffocating in a slow, painful wait.

  Pain spread through her entire body. Perhaps she wouldn’t even stand up again before the day ended. She simply couldn’t — lying there felt at least a little safer.

  Of all the sounds around her, she listened only to the movements and footsteps nearby.

  And whenever those sounds came closer, she froze like a statue.

  Her heart stopped inside her chest.

  Perhaps Yanael was trying to fight her way out of it — but it was useless.

  Her mind had already been swallowed by dark, unwanted memories.