Jennifleur curled up in her favorite hidey-hole and cried

((Note: something I wrote out of the blue…think of it as the result of PMS))

Cereline curled up atop the tree-branch and cried.

Perfect crystaline tears poured from emerald-green eyes, coursing down alabaster cheeks to meet at the point of her chin. From there they fell like rain-drops into an ever growing pool on the bark of the limb.

Her mother always told her that she needed to be more composed, that it was unseemly to wail so. But mother was probably in shambles as well right about now. Cere knew inside that it must be just as horrible for the rest of her family, the rest of the survivors, but her heart refused to accept that any grief could come close to what she suffered right now.

Arvin was dead.

That thought twisted ‘round and ‘round in her head, until it was her reality, all she could think, all she could believe. The site of his mangled, bloody body lying spread-eagled on the moss beneath the gnarled oak…the vision kept coming back, and she couldn’t banish it.

If only the others had listened…if only they’d believed the warnings, had listened to what the seers and clairvoyants had been saying for weeks.

But it was too late, and after this, nothing would be the same again; after the horrible massacre that would go down in history as the rout of Elfhame Silverhall. No one had been willing to believe what the Seers had said, well, almost no one.

Only her brother, Arvindell, and a select few of the warrior elite had taken the warnings, the signs, to heart. Only they had listened to the visions of horrible black-winged monsters descending upon the Grove, rending and tearing and ripping elf after elf limb from limb. They’d posted guards, and managed to convince a few other mages and fighters alike that these were not just nightmares, but those few hadn’t been enough.

Cereline clenched her teeth in anger, her hands balling into fists as she dug her nails into her palms, digging bloody half moons into her skin. If Ionly/I everyone hadn’t been so sure that they were invincible! The elven society was used to being the best of the best, used to being impossible to overcome. Arvin used to get so angry at those "Pompous, over-stuffed, big headed fools". He believed in eternal vigilance, in training until one was past the point of perfection, in honing every skill he possessed to razor-sharp keenness.

But even he couldn’t stand up alone against the hordes of monsters that had invaded their Grove that morning.

She was ensconced in a lesson with a dried up old mage, Maclauran. His hair was a snowy silver, though his face remained untouched by age, as it was with all elves. Cere had to admit he was talented as a teacher, but she was two-hundred and thirty-two years old! No longer a child, and definitely past basic grounding and shielding spells! She knew that Arvin wasn’t on guard duty…he’d been up for DAYS without any sleep and was currently resting in their tree-home, snoring uproarously, more than likely.

Maybe that was why the creature had made it so far into the Grove untouched.

The only clue to the attack was a slight Iwhirring/I noise before a Isomething/I flew straight through the window of the training arena, a parody of a bat that seemed to consist entirely of flapping wings, gnashing teeth and claws made to rend. Maclauran hadn’t a chance. Before he could do so much as throw up a shield spell, it had attached itself to his face. Cereline sat there, absolutely stunned as her teacher screamed in pain, clawing at the thing as it ripped away skin and muscle. The bat shrieked, then sank its teeth right through Mac’s forehead…his body convulsed before he dropped with one final cry.

Then the bat thing turned from the old elf’s body, disengaging its teeth from her teachers skull and Ismiled/I right at Cere, baring it’s finger-length fangs. She felt her blood turn to ice and before she realized what she was doing, she was up and out the door, screaming all the way.

She stumbled out into the open, and was met with a site more terrifying than anything she’d ever seen before. All over the Grove, elves were battling against more creatures, each more horrific than the last. There was a spider like thing with far to many legs that chittered like a rabid rodent, and something that resembled a flying manta-ray, wailing like a banshee.

Cere clasped her hands over her ears, fresh tears springing from her eyes. She knew she’d never forget that sound…it would haunt her dreams from now until the day she died.

Frightened beyond belief, the young elven girl gathered together the shreds of her courage and pulled her sword from mid-air. The silver metal of her armor flashed into place around her body, glowing with an ethereal light.

From behind, the bat-thing launched itself through the door of the training arena, right at her. Cere whirled, and brought her sword up instinctively so that the creature skewered itself on the blade. Two equal halves dropped to the ground and twitched. She could only stare in morbid fascination as the pieces crawled back to each other, melding back into one thing.

Sickened and scared, she brought one armor-clad heel down on the thing, squishing it like a bug. There came a squelching sound that made her stomach churn, and black goo spread beneath her foot.

Turning back to the battle, she caught site of a familiar figure in forest green armor hurtling towards her.

"ARVIN!!!" Cere screamed, running to her brother like the frightened child she was.

"Cere!" He cried in relief as he reached her, pulling her into the safety of his arms, and hiding them both behind the cover of a willow so wide it would have taken five elves to circle it with their arms. "I didn’t know where you were! I couldn’t find you anywhere!"

She started to cry then, in relief and fear. Arvin snagged her chin in his hand and tilted her face up ‘til their eyes met.

"Listen to me Cere." He said sternly, voice barely audible over the screams of the wounded and the dying. "Get out of here, find somewhere to hide! You’ll only be injured if you stay out here."

"But-" She protested, noticing how his shoulder length blonde hair was matted with crimson, the huge rents in his armor, and the black gunk smearing the blade of his long-sword.

I"No!"/I He halted her before she could go on, emerald eyes snapping in anger. "I’ll not see your body broken and bleeding." An expression of inexplicable sadness seemed to appear on his face. "This is what the Seers meant, this is what we were preparing for. Perhaps if more had believed us, the death toll would not be so high." The stern look faded from his eyes. "Hide sister, I’ll come for you when this battle is over."

"You promise me?" She begged him.

"Don’t I always?" He grinned impishly at her before turning and vanishing around the opposite side of the tree trunk.

As much as Cereline would have loved to disobey her brother and fight beside him, she was too used to doing as he told her. So she fled to the safest place she could think of; an old badger’s set hidden between the roots of an elm as old as the Grove itself. She hurtled headlong into the burrow, feeling damp, cool earth between her fingers. She kept her armor and sword, not willing to relinquish them in case a monster happened upon her hiding place.

So there she stayed, straining pointed ears to catch any stray sound. The song of metal on metal, counterpointed by screams and battlecries reached her. Cere squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think of what those sounds meant, that her friends and loved ones were out there fighting and dying while she hid.

She waited until the clamor died down, until she could no longer hear the screams, before crawling from the set and emerging into dying twilight. How long had the battle raged? She had no way of knowing.

Shaking and not sure she really wanted to see the aftermath of the skirmish, Cere hesitantly made her way back into the Grove.

Long before she saw the field of battle, she smelt the coppery scent of blood, and the acrid tang of smoke. A horrible stench she didn’t recognize permeated the air, making her head spin. It had to be monster blood, there was no other explanation.

Panic seized her guts in an iron grip, and before she realized what was happening, her legs had taken off running, and her body had no choice but to follow.

Even before Cere reached the main site of the battle, her mind had been painting horrific images of graceful elven bodies shattered and sprawled around the heart of the Grove. But the reality was far worse than anything she could have conjured up herself.

The training arena had been located on the outskirts of the Elfhame, and the damage there had been appalling. But the damage done to the center of her home bordered on Armageddon. Every single tree had taken some damage, whether it was just superficial scratching, or worse…some of the giants that had taken thousands of years to grow had been reduced to charred stumps and small hills of ash. Emerald green grass had been stained crimson and black, and huge gouges had been torn from the earth, more than likely from some creature’s talons.

Homes, both tree-top and ground level had been set aflame or torn apart. Smoke poured from open windows, accompanied by licking flames.

Cereline started to shake. For beneath the ruins of trees and houses were bodies…far too many to count. The remains of the elven warriors were tossed negligently all around, like broken and discarded dolls. Kneeling beside the wounded were healers and mages; anyone who could still move without agony was there, even those ungifted in magic. Wails of pain and loss echoed in the air, the death toll must be unthinkable.

Her feet began to move again, and Cere found herself staggering through the wreckage, mostly unnoticed. No one would pay much attention to a single, uninjured child when there were so many dying to tend to. But Cere wasn’t paying much attention to them either.

She had to find Arvin. He’d told her he’d come for her, but what if he was incapable of doing so? What if he was hurt…what if…what if he was…

She couldn’t even make herself think about it.

But every living elf she passed minimized her chances of finding her brother whole and intact. Every person who was not Arvin meant the chances of him being dead increased.

Her panic grew, and her eyes darted from figure to prone figure. Surely Isomewhere…./I

Cereline screeched to a halt. She noticed a familiar figure crouched over one of the fallen. That sillouhette could only belong to one person.

Delowyn

The most powerful healer in all of Silverhall, and Arvin’s fiancée.

If ANYONE knew her brother’s whereabouts, it would be Delowyn.

A tiny spark of hope flared to life, giving Cere new energy. She tore over to her would be sister and threw herself down on the grass next to the healer.

"D…Del…have you seen….." She trailed off as she saw just who Del’s latest patient really was.

I"ARVIN!!"/I She muffled the scream by only the barest of margins. If she thought her brother had looked beaten before, it was infinitely worse now. The chestplate of his armor had been nearly torn from his body, only scraps of emerald gilt remained. Beneath his tattered and bloodstained jerkin she swore she could see the gleam of rib bones. It looked as if some huge taloned paw had swiped right across his torso. For all she knew…it had. Lying nearby were the shattered remains of his long sword. The elegant silver blade had been smashed into glittering shards. But those pieces were covered in crimson, they were lying so close to his body that Arvin’s blood was soaking his own sword.

Cere stuffed her fist against her mouth to stifle a wail. She turned to Delowyn, begging the older elf with her eyes.

"He’s okay…isn’t he?"

The look Delowyn turned on her told her everything she needed to know. The bare anguish in the healer’s blue-green eyes was like a slap upside the face.

"No…no…" Cereline staggered to her feet and backed away, unable to take the sight of her brother lying face to the sky…sightless eyes closed, pale and lifeless. Not able to stand the pain and hurt in Del’s eyes, eyes that reflected exactly how she felt. So Cere did what she’d been doing a lot of lately, she turned and ran…not back to the badger’s set, but to a tree near the edges of the Elfhame, one that would have remained untouched by the battle.

Nimble as any squirrel, she scrambled up the trunk, finding hand and footholds in the rough bark, and eventually ended up on a branch as thick around as any human’s car. And she stayed there.

How long had she been there anyway? Cere hugged her knees to her chest and buried her damp face atop her arms.

"Cereline?" A voice called softly from about twenty five feet below her. "I was told you might be here…"

She leaned over the tree branch to see Delowyn standing on the forest floor, her tear-stained face turned upwards, eyes searching the canopy.

"Go away." She muttered, her voice had gone hoarse and scratchy from sobbing.

"Cere…"

"DON’T CALL ME THAT!" She shouted. I"Nobody/I calls me that except Ar-" A choking sob cut her off. Her throat and chest constricted against another bout of hysterics.

"Please come down." She heard Del murmur, but ignored it.

"No." Cereline snapped.

A sigh was her only answer, and the next thing she knew, the world spun and blurred. After a brief moment of disorientation, she found herself sprawled on the leaves

*She Iteleported /Ime!* Cere thought in disbelief. She turned a snarl onto Delowyn, which was met with a sad smile.

"You cannot hide here forever Cereline." Del said quietly. "Come back to the Grove with me…we can use your help…we must rebuild."

Cere knew what Delowyn meant. While her brother’s fiance’s strengths lay in healing wounds, Cereline’s own leaned more towards creation…though she’d only made small objects up ‘til now.

"REBUILD?!" She demanded incredulously. "How can you say that when my brother, your betrothed, lies cold and dead back there?!" She flung one hand in the direction of the city. "You’re the most powerful healer we’ve seen in generations." She put a mocking tone into her voice. "You could have saved him! Didn’t you love him at ALL?!"

"CERELINE!" Del grabbed the younger girl’s shoulder and shook her until her head snapped. "Get a hold of yourself?! Of COURSE I’m hurting…don’t you understand? I’m a healer! I see death and destruction everyday! I’m constantly surrounded by the dying…but…I never though I’d have to see Arvindell like that. He was invincible…I thought it was safe to love him." Tears leaked from Delowyn’s teal eyes, cutting two tracks through the dirt and dried blood smeared over her cheeks.

It was something of a shock to Cere to see Delowyn so discomposed. Usually the healer was so calm and serene, with an inner strength that was betrayed by her frail and petite appearance. Cereline had never quite gotten along with her…they had too many differences; and though Cere felt rather petty to admit it, she didn’t like having a rival for her brother’s affections.

But before she could stop herself, Cere hugged the elven lady, felt something inside Del break and a flood of tears poured from the healer, soaking them both. But Cere couldn’t care, she was crying too…somehow it was easier to sob with someone who shared her pain.

Moments stretched into eternity, and by the time the shoulder wracking sobs had subsided to hiccups, they were both drained and exaughsted. Cereline looked at Del and couldn’t help but crack a very tiny grin. The other girl’s eyes were blood-shot and puffy. Her nose looked red and raw from sniffing.

"What’s so funny?" She croaked. "You look like you’ve got a cold."

"So do you." Cere said with a wavering smile.

Delowyn got to her feet and extended a hand to the younger elf. "Come Cere…there are things to be done. I do not think Arvin would thank us much if we left so much in ruins only to mourn him."

Cere nodded in response. "He was like that."

"Then come with me. Between the two of us, I think we can help a great deal." Del said softly, but Cereline could see the anguish lurking beneath the unruffled surface, and felt a little better knowing she wasn’t alone in grieving.

"O…okay…" She said hesitantly, taking the proffered hand and getting her feet back beneath her. "Like you said, there’s much to be done, no?"

"Yes." Del nodded. "The dead have gone to rest, but the living have to move on."

Cere thought for a moment before replying. "Do you think…it’s worth it to try?"

"Yes." Delowyn said firmly. "Life is ALWAYS worth a second try."