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Description
Sunlight filtered in through the curtains on the single window of the small attic room.  The lump in the bed rolled over and groaned, attempting to pull the blanket up around its ears without uncovering its feet.  The pillow that it had pulled over its head was almost enough to muffle the sound of a man shouting from the bottom of the stairs.

"Araeri!"  The voice yelled.  "Araeri, come down here!  Quickly!"

The lump rolled over again onto its back and pulled down the blanket, revealing a sleepy but pretty female face.  The young woman reached up and scratched her nose, then behind her pointed ear, then ran her hand through her mussed purple hair.  She tugged on a clump and held it out straight, measuring its length, then grunted.  Too long.  Gotta cut that…

She vaguely heard someone coming up the stairs, and then there was a loud knock on the door.  "Araeri!"  The voice again, right outside the door now.  "Get down here.  You are needed."

Araeri grumbled and sat up.  "Yes, dad."  Outside the door, her father huffed and retreated down the stairs.  She sat up and rolled her head around, eliciting a crack from her neck.  She dragged herself out of bed and pulled on a simple grey tunic and black pants.  She ran her hands through her hair again, flinching and tugging harder every time she encountered a knot.  Then she slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and left her room.

The front door of the house had been propped open and a crowd was forming outside.  A quick scan of the crowd told her that something was wrong – almost all of the inhabitants of the Elven village were gathered outside their chieftain's house.  Many of the women were crying, and most of the men were just looking up at Araeri's father with desperation on their faces.  This sight unnerved her, but what bothered her more was that her mother was standing back inside the house, not even visible to the crowd, while Araeri's elder sister stood out with their father, facing the crowd like a queen.

"Ma?" Araeri asked quietly, touching her mother's shoulder.  "What's going on?"

The Human woman turned to her daughter.  Her hair, once dark and full, was now grey and limp.  Her blue eyes, though still sparkling, were set into a wizened face.  Araeri almost forgot sometimes that her mother had been getting on in years when she bore her daughters, and the woman was finally beginning to show her age.

"Rae…" Her mother smiled sadly.  All of her smiles had been sad lately, Araeri recalled.  "You've slept in again."  Araeri opened her mouth to explain, but her mother glanced out the door and went on, "Your father wanted you to be down here with the rest of the village when he announces what happened last night."

Araeri felt her heart rate increase.  "What happened last night?"  Her mother just touched her arm gently before retreating further into the house.  Araeri slipped outside and joined the crowd, taking the opportunity to get a good look at her father and sister.

While everyone else in the village wore clothing that looked as though it hadn't been replaced in years, Tervah and Adair Anzhu wore pristine garments of the finest material available.  Tervah wore a dark green tunic and pants, embroidered with gold thread and held together with a golden sash draped across his chest and around his waist.  His pointed ears poked out from beneath long slate blue hair that was pulled back out of his face and held with a golden tie.  His hands, barely visible from within the folds of his sleeves, were adorned with golden signet rings.

Adair had her father's brilliant green eyes – a family trait that appeared in all children descended from the Anzhu line.  Her silvery blue hair was tucked fastidiously behind her pointed ears, as though she was showing them off.  She wore a dark blue sleeveless tunic that showed off her beautiful pale shoulders and slim arms, which were decorated with silver bracelets.  Her soft shoes, the same color as the tunic, peeked out from beneath her elegant white skirt.  She gave her sister a haughty frown as Araeri joined the crowd.

Once Tervah was certain that everyone was present, he raised his arms dramatically to silence the worried murmurs.  His voice echoed through the village as he began to speak, "Last night, six children vanished from their beds while the rest of us slept.  Their parents awoke this morning and came straight to me with the news.  I assure you that there is no cause for alarm."

Cries of protest broke out across the crowd.  The fathers shouted for justice, the mothers shouted for restoration of their children, and Araeri shouted with the other young people for explanation.  Tervah and Adair conferred for a moment before Adair extended her arm and let loose a burst of magic light from her hand with the cry, "Silence!"

The crowd hushed and those in the front row shrank back.  Araeri raised her eyebrows in surprise at her sister's method of crowd control.  Usually Adair was calm and collected – arrogant, yes, but always in control – but now she seemed to have a hard time keeping her cool.

Then again, Araeri thought, neither had the village ever been this panicked.

Once there was silence, Adair regained her composure and looked at her father.  Tervah nodded his approval to her before continuing, "The most plausible explanation is that the children snuck out in the middle of the night to play in the woods.  We can send out a search party if you like, but I suspect that the children will return to us by suppertime.  Doubtless they will get hungry eventually."

One of the women cried out, "What if they didn't just run off?  What if they were kidnapped?"

Adair glared at the speaker and demanded, "Do you not think that my father is capable of handling the situation?"

No, and neither do the rest of us! Araeri thought, but she refrained from replying.  Her sister was on a roll now, well on her way to becoming the most powerful person in the village, second only to their father in influence and effect on the villagers.  There was a time when Araeri would have disputed this state of affairs, but it was made clear to her long ago that as the second-born, she had no place in Tervah's government.

Adair went on, her self-righteous visage strong, "Lord Tervah Anzhu has assessed the situation and determined that there is no cause for alarm.  You may all return to your homes now.  Rest assured that your children will return by nightfall."

There was some grumbling, but the crowd dispersed and village life resumed as normal.  Araeri slipped away with the crowd before her father and sister could have a chance to apprehend her for anything.  She loved her family, but the amount that she liked them decreased daily.

Araeri took a walk around the village, intending only to take some time away from her house to relax.  Her hut was the largest in the village, since it belonged to the chieftain, but it had never quite felt like home.  She had always felt more comfortable in the smaller huts that belonged to the ordinary citizens, and of course, out in the forest.

It was a relatively small place where everybody knew everyone else.  Araeri had babysat most of the children and been babysat by many of the adults, Elf and Human alike.  It was a mixed village – one of many forest settlements where Humans came to get away from the big cities and incorporated themselves into the Elven lifestyle.  Her mother had been such a Human, a long time ago.

She passed by cooking-pits, children playing, and adults conversing.  One discussion in particular caught her ear:

"…doesn't know what he's talking about."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but he didn't even come to our houses!  Claiming that our children ran away… My door was locked, and my little Tarina is too small to reach the latch!  She can't have run away all on her own!"

"Well, I had my suspicions when he started letting his daughter do all the talking…"

"Who's being disrespectful now, hm?"

"I'm serious!  She's always with him, always following him around.  Whatever he needs done, she does it.  Whenever someone needs to be yelled at, she does it.  Like at the meeting just now!  There was no need for that… we just want our children home safely…"

Araeri walked on, mulling this over.  She knew that her father had become less popular with the villagers recently, but it was rare that anyone voiced anything against him.  The conversation had confirmed her suspicions – Adair would be taking over for Tervah eventually, and the villagers were afraid of her.

"Rae-rae!"

She turned at the familiar voice.  An Elf child was running toward her, leaping over obstacles as he went.  His hair, the color of the summer sky, flew out wildly behind him.  Araeri recognized him as the younger brother of her childhood friend Kelith.  He stumbled at the last second and crashed into the ground at her feet.  She knelt and helped him get up and dust himself off.

"Kano," Araeri said gently.  "What's wrong?"

"Rae-rae, you have to come!  Something bad!"  he cried, tugging at the sleeve of her tunic.  Barely more than eight years old, Kano was the kind of child who always had a dirty face and never ceased to smile.  But this morning was different – his little Elven face was pulled tight with worry and fear.  "You have to come, Rae-rae!"  He pointed anxiously toward his family's hut.

Without much of a choice, Araeri followed.

Kano's hut was smaller than most in the village, but his parents always made due with what space they had.  Araeri could remember playing with Kelith as children in the common room, which was also his bedroom and his parents' bedroom, where Kano slept was he was born.  The only other room in the hut was a small kitchen area off to the side.

As they approached the hut, Kano's mother came out to greet Araeri.

"Rae, dear!"  She embraced the half-Elf with tears in her eyes.

Araeri returned the hug.  "Kano said that 'something bad' happened.  He told me to come right away.  What's going on?"

"It's Kelith, dear," the woman replied.  "He was one of the children who disappeared last night."

Araeri's mind slowed to a crawl and her face fell as she tried to process the news.  "But… but Kelith isn't a child.  He's twenty years old.  He passed his rite last year; he's a full adult.  He can't… They couldn't have…" She stopped talking when she saw the tears in Kelith's mother's eyes.

Like other villages of Elven origin, Araeri's home instituted maturity rites that young people had to pass before they could take on adult responsibilities and enjoy adult rights.  Araeri had been taught that the original idea was to protect the young people from personal harm, such as by doing the more dangerous work around the village or by leaving the village to go out into the world.

Araeri failed to see the applicability of the lessons involved in the rite:  history revolving around the Anzhu clan, art and music based only on Elf standards, and ancestral healing magic hardly seemed to be the most useful things in the world.  She hated studying history.  She never managed to draw a straight line or paint within the lines of a pre-drawn picture.  She always preferred brawling with the bullies in the streets to learning how to heal injuries.

Kelith loved all of it.  He could recite ballad after ballad of history; he sought out information about the history of other races; he even composed his own ballad once, about the Dragons.  He was one of the best artists in the village.  And every time Araeri got into a fight, he would take her back to his hut and heal her, no questions asked and no mention of it to her parents.

Kelith passed his rite a year earlier than was expected.  Araeri still hadn't passed hers.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Kelith's mother asked, "Do you believe your father?  That they're just out playing in the woods?"

"No," Araeri answered.  "I don't believe him.  I don't believe him for a minute.  He just doesn't want to deal with it."  She cast her eyes down and added, "But there's always the hope…"

"I'm sorry, Rae."  The woman hugged her again.  "I'm so sorry."

Araeri left the hut feeling as though someone had taken a hammer and shattered her soul into tiny pieces.

………

That night, and the next, and the next after that, the children did not return.  A week went by, then two, then the next moon, and they still didn't return.  More children disappeared.  Tervah made more excuses.  The people got more worried, and Araeri got more dissatisfied.

Two years went by.  In that time, over twenty children and young people had been stolen from the village.  After hearing her parents arguing one night over whether or not to move the village somewhere safer, Araeri made up her mind.  The village was no longer home for her.

Araeri was twenty-two years old when she stole away in the middle of the night.  She took a set of leather armor that used to belong to her mother, an ebony and emerald necklace from her mother, and a beautifully inscribed dagger that Kelith had given her as a child.  She left a note to her mother saying that she was leaving of her own volition to try to make things right, and signed it "Rae" – the nickname that Kelith's family had always used for her.  Then she cut her hair and headed out, determined to find and beat the living daylights out of the kidnappers who had been plaguing her village for the past two years.

She still hadn't passed her rite.

Description
Sunlight filtered in through the curtains on the single window of the small attic room.  The lump in the bed rolled over and groaned, attempting to pull the blanket up around its ears without uncovering its feet.  The pillow that it had pulled over its head was almost enough to muffle the sound of a man shouting from the bottom of the stairs.

"Araeri!"  The voice yelled.  "Araeri, come down here!  Quickly!"

The lump rolled over again onto its back and pulled down the blanket, revealing a sleepy but pretty female face.  The young woman reached up and scratched her nose, then behind her pointed ear, then ran her hand through her mussed purple hair.  She tugged on a clump and held it out straight, measuring its length, then grunted.  Too long.  Gotta cut that…

She vaguely heard someone coming up the stairs, and then there was a loud knock on the door.  "Araeri!"  The voice again, right outside the door now.  "Get down here.  You are needed."

Araeri grumbled and sat up.  "Yes, dad."  Outside the door, her father huffed and retreated down the stairs.  She sat up and rolled her head around, eliciting a crack from her neck.  She dragged herself out of bed and pulled on a simple grey tunic and black pants.  She ran her hands through her hair again, flinching and tugging harder every time she encountered a knot.  Then she slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and left her room.

The front door of the house had been propped open and a crowd was forming outside.  A quick scan of the crowd told her that something was wrong – almost all of the inhabitants of the Elven village were gathered outside their chieftain's house.  Many of the women were crying, and most of the men were just looking up at Araeri's father with desperation on their faces.  This sight unnerved her, but what bothered her more was that her mother was standing back inside the house, not even visible to the crowd, while Araeri's elder sister stood out with their father, facing the crowd like a queen.

"Ma?" Araeri asked quietly, touching her mother's shoulder.  "What's going on?"

The Human woman turned to her daughter.  Her hair, once dark and full, was now grey and limp.  Her blue eyes, though still sparkling, were set into a wizened face.  Araeri almost forgot sometimes that her mother had been getting on in years when she bore her daughters, and the woman was finally beginning to show her age.

"Rae…" Her mother smiled sadly.  All of her smiles had been sad lately, Araeri recalled.  "You've slept in again."  Araeri opened her mouth to explain, but her mother glanced out the door and went on, "Your father wanted you to be down here with the rest of the village when he announces what happened last night."

Araeri felt her heart rate increase.  "What happened last night?"  Her mother just touched her arm gently before retreating further into the house.  Araeri slipped outside and joined the crowd, taking the opportunity to get a good look at her father and sister.

While everyone else in the village wore clothing that looked as though it hadn't been replaced in years, Tervah and Adair Anzhu wore pristine garments of the finest material available.  Tervah wore a dark green tunic and pants, embroidered with gold thread and held together with a golden sash draped across his chest and around his waist.  His pointed ears poked out from beneath long slate blue hair that was pulled back out of his face and held with a golden tie.  His hands, barely visible from within the folds of his sleeves, were adorned with golden signet rings.

Adair had her father's brilliant green eyes – a family trait that appeared in all children descended from the Anzhu line.  Her silvery blue hair was tucked fastidiously behind her pointed ears, as though she was showing them off.  She wore a dark blue sleeveless tunic that showed off her beautiful pale shoulders and slim arms, which were decorated with silver bracelets.  Her soft shoes, the same color as the tunic, peeked out from beneath her elegant white skirt.  She gave her sister a haughty frown as Araeri joined the crowd.

Once Tervah was certain that everyone was present, he raised his arms dramatically to silence the worried murmurs.  His voice echoed through the village as he began to speak, "Last night, six children vanished from their beds while the rest of us slept.  Their parents awoke this morning and came straight to me with the news.  I assure you that there is no cause for alarm."

Cries of protest broke out across the crowd.  The fathers shouted for justice, the mothers shouted for restoration of their children, and Araeri shouted with the other young people for explanation.  Tervah and Adair conferred for a moment before Adair extended her arm and let loose a burst of magic light from her hand with the cry, "Silence!"

The crowd hushed and those in the front row shrank back.  Araeri raised her eyebrows in surprise at her sister's method of crowd control.  Usually Adair was calm and collected – arrogant, yes, but always in control – but now she seemed to have a hard time keeping her cool.

Then again, Araeri thought, neither had the village ever been this panicked.

Once there was silence, Adair regained her composure and looked at her father.  Tervah nodded his approval to her before continuing, "The most plausible explanation is that the children snuck out in the middle of the night to play in the woods.  We can send out a search party if you like, but I suspect that the children will return to us by suppertime.  Doubtless they will get hungry eventually."

One of the women cried out, "What if they didn't just run off?  What if they were kidnapped?"

Adair glared at the speaker and demanded, "Do you not think that my father is capable of handling the situation?"

No, and neither do the rest of us! Araeri thought, but she refrained from replying.  Her sister was on a roll now, well on her way to becoming the most powerful person in the village, second only to their father in influence and effect on the villagers.  There was a time when Araeri would have disputed this state of affairs, but it was made clear to her long ago that as the second-born, she had no place in Tervah's government.

Adair went on, her self-righteous visage strong, "Lord Tervah Anzhu has assessed the situation and determined that there is no cause for alarm.  You may all return to your homes now.  Rest assured that your children will return by nightfall."

There was some grumbling, but the crowd dispersed and village life resumed as normal.  Araeri slipped away with the crowd before her father and sister could have a chance to apprehend her for anything.  She loved her family, but the amount that she liked them decreased daily.

Araeri took a walk around the village, intending only to take some time away from her house to relax.  Her hut was the largest in the village, since it belonged to the chieftain, but it had never quite felt like home.  She had always felt more comfortable in the smaller huts that belonged to the ordinary citizens, and of course, out in the forest.

It was a relatively small place where everybody knew everyone else.  Araeri had babysat most of the children and been babysat by many of the adults, Elf and Human alike.  It was a mixed village – one of many forest settlements where Humans came to get away from the big cities and incorporated themselves into the Elven lifestyle.  Her mother had been such a Human, a long time ago.

She passed by cooking-pits, children playing, and adults conversing.  One discussion in particular caught her ear:

"…doesn't know what he's talking about."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't mean to sound disrespectful, but he didn't even come to our houses!  Claiming that our children ran away… My door was locked, and my little Tarina is too small to reach the latch!  She can't have run away all on her own!"

"Well, I had my suspicions when he started letting his daughter do all the talking…"

"Who's being disrespectful now, hm?"

"I'm serious!  She's always with him, always following him around.  Whatever he needs done, she does it.  Whenever someone needs to be yelled at, she does it.  Like at the meeting just now!  There was no need for that… we just want our children home safely…"

Araeri walked on, mulling this over.  She knew that her father had become less popular with the villagers recently, but it was rare that anyone voiced anything against him.  The conversation had confirmed her suspicions – Adair would be taking over for Tervah eventually, and the villagers were afraid of her.

"Rae-rae!"

She turned at the familiar voice.  An Elf child was running toward her, leaping over obstacles as he went.  His hair, the color of the summer sky, flew out wildly behind him.  Araeri recognized him as the younger brother of her childhood friend Kelith.  He stumbled at the last second and crashed into the ground at her feet.  She knelt and helped him get up and dust himself off.

"Kano," Araeri said gently.  "What's wrong?"

"Rae-rae, you have to come!  Something bad!"  he cried, tugging at the sleeve of her tunic.  Barely more than eight years old, Kano was the kind of child who always had a dirty face and never ceased to smile.  But this morning was different – his little Elven face was pulled tight with worry and fear.  "You have to come, Rae-rae!"  He pointed anxiously toward his family's hut.

Without much of a choice, Araeri followed.

Kano's hut was smaller than most in the village, but his parents always made due with what space they had.  Araeri could remember playing with Kelith as children in the common room, which was also his bedroom and his parents' bedroom, where Kano slept was he was born.  The only other room in the hut was a small kitchen area off to the side.

As they approached the hut, Kano's mother came out to greet Araeri.

"Rae, dear!"  She embraced the half-Elf with tears in her eyes.

Araeri returned the hug.  "Kano said that 'something bad' happened.  He told me to come right away.  What's going on?"

"It's Kelith, dear," the woman replied.  "He was one of the children who disappeared last night."

Araeri's mind slowed to a crawl and her face fell as she tried to process the news.  "But… but Kelith isn't a child.  He's twenty years old.  He passed his rite last year; he's a full adult.  He can't… They couldn't have…" She stopped talking when she saw the tears in Kelith's mother's eyes.

Like other villages of Elven origin, Araeri's home instituted maturity rites that young people had to pass before they could take on adult responsibilities and enjoy adult rights.  Araeri had been taught that the original idea was to protect the young people from personal harm, such as by doing the more dangerous work around the village or by leaving the village to go out into the world.

Araeri failed to see the applicability of the lessons involved in the rite:  history revolving around the Anzhu clan, art and music based only on Elf standards, and ancestral healing magic hardly seemed to be the most useful things in the world.  She hated studying history.  She never managed to draw a straight line or paint within the lines of a pre-drawn picture.  She always preferred brawling with the bullies in the streets to learning how to heal injuries.

Kelith loved all of it.  He could recite ballad after ballad of history; he sought out information about the history of other races; he even composed his own ballad once, about the Dragons.  He was one of the best artists in the village.  And every time Araeri got into a fight, he would take her back to his hut and heal her, no questions asked and no mention of it to her parents.

Kelith passed his rite a year earlier than was expected.  Araeri still hadn't passed hers.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Kelith's mother asked, "Do you believe your father?  That they're just out playing in the woods?"

"No," Araeri answered.  "I don't believe him.  I don't believe him for a minute.  He just doesn't want to deal with it."  She cast her eyes down and added, "But there's always the hope…"

"I'm sorry, Rae."  The woman hugged her again.  "I'm so sorry."

Araeri left the hut feeling as though someone had taken a hammer and shattered her soul into tiny pieces.

………

That night, and the next, and the next after that, the children did not return.  A week went by, then two, then the next moon, and they still didn't return.  More children disappeared.  Tervah made more excuses.  The people got more worried, and Araeri got more dissatisfied.

Two years went by.  In that time, over twenty children and young people had been stolen from the village.  After hearing her parents arguing one night over whether or not to move the village somewhere safer, Araeri made up her mind.  The village was no longer home for her.

Araeri was twenty-two years old when she stole away in the middle of the night.  She took a set of leather armor that used to belong to her mother, an ebony and emerald necklace from her mother, and a beautifully inscribed dagger that Kelith had given her as a child.  She left a note to her mother saying that she was leaving of her own volition to try to make things right, and signed it "Rae" – the nickname that Kelith's family had always used for her.  Then she cut her hair and headed out, determined to find and beat the living daylights out of the kidnappers who had been plaguing her village for the past two years.

She still hadn't passed her rite.