All good things are wild and free

In truth, Cesare would have been just as happy never to come back to his homeland. Though he had spent the first fourteen years of his life in Nymmerwell, he had few good memories of the place. He remembered, mostly, living alone with only his mother for company and the constant threats of the elves of Forlindon, who had despised Cesare’s mother for having birthed the child of a human and Cesare for his mixed parentage. After moving to D’Auvignon after his mother’s death and even after the many journeys he’d undertaken to improve his cartography, he had stayed far away from Nymmerwell.

But one of his clients had requested a map of the area and Cesare didn’t work by halves, so here he was, in an all too familiar forest in Nymmerwell. He had been travelling for most of the day, sketching landmarks as he went, and was looking for a place his horse could rest and drink. He knew there was a river nearby, so he led his horse along a narrow path until the river came into view. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flash of movement, but when he turned to look around, he couldn’t see anything. Automatically, his hand went to his hip, where he had strapped a sword, just in case he ran into any trouble. Still, he didn’t draw it; he didn’t want to jump at shadows.

Instead, he led his horse to the water and patted the mare’s flank as she drank. His eyes scanned his surroundings, trying to pinpoint if anyone might be hiding in the shadows. He left his horse by the riverbank and cautiously walked several feet back into the forest, checking both the ground and the trees. He could practically feel eyes on his back. He stopped. “Whoever you are, you can come out,” he called out. “I’m not looking for trouble.” He wasn’t, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t defend himself if trouble came looking for him.

For a few moments, it seemed as if no one would respond, the silence lengthening. All the while, Cesare’s eyes kept scanning his surroundings. Before long though, a voice broke through the silence, coming from somewhere above him. “Well that sounds lovely, but how can I be sure?” said the voice, obviously belonging to a woman. Cesare directed his gaze to where the voice had come from and came face to face with a young woman. Her pointed ears stood out, immediately recognisable, putting Cesare on alert. During the years he had lived here, his experiences with any elves other than his mother hadn’t been positive, and they had made him understandably wary. But the woman didn’t seem to have any ill intentions – she was smiling and there seemed to be a certain curiosity to her expression.

So Cesare decided to take a chance, figuring he could always make a grab for his sword in case she did wish him warm. He held up his hands and flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I might say the same to you,” he told her. “From where I’m standing, you have the advantage. You could be on me before I ever had the chance to draw my sword.” The words rang almost uncomfortably true. “Or,” he added hopefully, “you could come down and we could both keep our weapons to ourselves.” By now, his neck had started to hurt from the awkward angle of looking up, but he kept looking at her, hands still raised so she could see them. He didn’t want to give her any reason to doubt he wasn’t looking for a fight.

The girl seemed to consider his proposal, as she tilted her head to the side and nodded thoughtfully several times. Cesare thought he could be reasonably sure she didn’t have any ill intentions – he probably wouldn’t still be standing here if she had – but she was taking her time deciding whether or not to come down. Suddenly, she flashed him a smile and was out of the tree and on the ground before Cesare could blink. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief; if she was able to move this quickly, he ought to be glad he didn’t have to meet her in combat.

Luckily, she seemed mostly curious about him, which Cesare could admit was mutual. She was the first elf aside from his mother he had come across who hadn’t looked at him with an expression of disgust. Perhaps she wasn’t from Forlindon to begin with, which would go a long way toward explaining her surprising behaviour. But Cesare wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so when she asked him what had brought him to the forest, he patted the bag he had slung across one shoulder. A piece of parchment was sticking out through an opening at one of the corners – the rough outline of a map he had been working on while on the road. “I’m a cartographer,” he explained. “I was asked to make a map of the area.” He hesitated for a moment, solely because asking an elf what she was doing in the forest near her home was almost too absurd to contemplate, but he didn’t want to presume. “And you?” he said finally, inwardly cringing.

Really, he could have guessed at the answer – had guessed at the answer, actually, which made him feel like even more of an idiot. To his relief, she didn’t seem to be laughing at him for it, instead latching onto his cartography and asking about it. Cesare thankfully grasped onto the escape. “I’m not sure how to describe it, actually,” he said, frowning; he was probably giving this too much thought. “Fulfilling, I suppose, but then it might not be that to anyone else. But it suits me.” He gave a small smile. “In theory, I’ve been in every part of the continent. But I haven’t seen everything there is to see. It depends on where my clients want me to go. Every trip, I discover something new.”

After he had finished speaking, he watched her. She seemed young and the fact that he had run into her here made him think it was unlikely she had ever left these woods before. He felt for her; he knew what he would be like if he didn’t have the opportunity to travel. “Is there any place you’d like to go?” he asked her. “Perhaps I’ve been there. I could tell you about it, if you like.” He glanced back toward the river when his horse gave a soft huff and only noticed now that the light was slowly fading. It would be dark in less than an hour. He looked back at the elf in front of him. “I have food to spare,” he offered, gesturing at his horse. “If you’d like some.” Luckily, he didn’t really have to worry about firewood; it was warm enough that he could easily last the night without it.