Glenn had already anticipated the coming attack.

  He knew well that the elven maiden harbored nothing but hostility toward him—yet that did not change what he believed was right to do.

  So young, and yet so reckless, he thought. She doesn’t even know the difference in strength between us and still dares to strike. No wonder she was captured.

  He raised his arm, ready to block and teach her a small lesson, when her long, slender leg suddenly halted mid-air.

  Only a gust of wind, carrying the faint fragrance of the forest, brushed across his face.

  Why did she stop? For the first time that night, Glenn was taken by surprise.

  He looked at her more closely and found her eyes vacant, her expression distant. Before he could speak, Gotaya seemed to awaken from a trance, slowly lowering her leg.

  “The forest here tells me… you are blameless,” she said softly.

  Glenn blinked, utterly lost. “The forest told you? I’ve lived here for years and never heard it say a word. Little girl, that’s not funny.”

  I’ve chopped down half its trees—if it doesn’t hate me, I’d already count that a blessing, he thought wryly.

  Gotaya’s face darkened. “I am three hundred and forty-five years old! Don’t call me little girl!”

  “Ah… well.” Glenn fell silent, caught off guard.

  After a pause, he changed the subject. “Then, Miss Elf, what do you plan to do now?”

  Gotaya didn’t answer. She turned instead to the dark woods surrounding them, replaying that mysterious sensation.

  Just before she had attacked, she had felt something—an echo of the forest’s will.

  It was strange and wondrous. She had heard the elders speak of such communion before, yet she herself had never succeeded, not even in her homeland under the Mother’s boughs.

  And now, here of all places, she had felt it for the first time.

  She closed her eyes, trying to reach for that presence again—but only silence answered. No whisper, no pulse of nature.

  Frowning, she tried several times, then gave up.

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  Glenn, who had been watching with amusement, chuckled. “Well? Did the forest speak again?”

  Gotaya ignored him, leaping down from the cart and walking away toward the path they had come.

  “This is human land,” Glenn called out. “An elf as striking as you won’t stay free for long.”

  She didn’t stop.

  “They’ll capture you,” he went on. “Sell you to nobles. You’ve lived long enough—you must know what they do, don’t you?

  They’ll put a collar around your neck, lead you out at parties like a pet. If you’re lucky, one might toss you a cloak for modesty. If not…” He let the laugh hang cold in the air.

  Her steps faltered, just for a moment, before continuing more slowly.

  Glenn hadn’t based his words on any story—he was merely improvising. But deep down, he knew reality was often crueler.

  When she still didn’t stop, he added, his tone darker:

  “Some nobles don’t keep elves for pleasure—they preserve them in wine. Imagine that—your body floating in a glass vat, your kin someday finding you there. Think of their despair. All of it, brought on by the choice you’re making now.”

  Gotaya froze completely this time, standing still for a long while.

  When she finally turned around, her voice trembled. “What are you trying to say?”

  Glenn smiled. “Don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want my effort wasted. So here’s some advice—take it, or end up in chains again.”

  Her pride flared; it sounded as though he were calling her weak.

  But Glenn paid no mind.

  “The Punk family won’t be able to hide their actions for long,” he said calmly. “Word will reach the Kingdom of Saesi soon, and your kin will no doubt seek its aid. A royal envoy will come to Zen before long. Until then, you must hide.”

  Gotaya considered his words carefully, unwilling to admit that his reasoning made sense.

  “But how? This is your world, human lands. I’d be discovered easily.”

  Glenn shrugged. “Why do you think I brought you here?”

  She blinked, startled, as he continued:

  “This place… is different. Twisted somehow. It’s full of monsters and strange folk. Most people avoid it entirely. If you stay hidden here, even your hunters will think twice before entering.”

  She glanced around, sensing the truth in his words.

  Her forest-born instincts told her this was no ordinary woodland. It felt alive, but not in the familiar way of the Mother’s domain.

  Still, that living essence meant safety—for the will of the forest never harmed her kind.

  “I’ll trust you—for now,” she said at last. “Where should I stay?”

  “How would I know?” Glenn spread his hands.

  “You don’t? You tell me to hide here but don’t even know where?” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

  “Listen, Miss Elf,” Glenn’s gaze cooled. “Am I your father? I saved you, offered advice, and you repay me with insolence? Are all elves this ungrateful? Maybe I should’ve let them bottle you in brandy after all.”

  He had saved her out of pity, but her attitude was quickly wearing that away.

  Gotaya opened her mouth to retort, then stopped. For once, she couldn’t refute him.

  She knew what gratitude meant—but after what humans had done, it was hard to summon any toward one.

  Glenn chuckled dryly, turned away, and climbed onto the cart. “If all elves are like this,” he muttered loudly, “I won’t bother saving another.”

  The words struck her like a sting. As the deer pawed the ground, ready to move, she blurted,

  “I… I was wrong!”

  Glenn paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “What was that? Speak up—I didn’t hear you.”

  Gotaya’s nose wrinkled in frustration, her teeth clenched. But for the pride of her people, she raised her voice and declared,

  “I’m sorry! Esteemed human man! I should not have spoken to you so rudely!”