Stupid forest. Stupid right of passage requirements. Stupid bow and arrow.
So I’m not your typical elf. Yes, I’m tall and can pretend to be a willow tree if I really try. And it’s dark. And you’re half blind. I can stomp through the woods without making the kind of noise that draws attention, even if I want to call attention to myself. I’m pretty smart, though I don’t think I’m really old enough to be considered wise. I mean, who’s wise at nineteen?
My people have a rich culture mired in our history, and no one clings to tradition and history like elves. I mean, I have some cousins, on my dad’s side, who still work for Saint Nicholas, despite the fact that their great, great, great, great grandparents fulfilled the terms of that indenture contract. This might sound great, if you’re the sort of person who prefers stability to uncertainty, and custom to progress.Continue reading Speed Writing #10 – Fumbled Shot