Myra has been camped outside the large elven gate for days. The King had sent her to escort an elven princess but the possibility was looking slim. The huge gate stood as closed as it ever was. No one had seen an elf in thousands of years. The impenetrable wall kept any human from crossing the border. It was a wonder to behold, taller than anything Myra had ever seen. It stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. Probably a prank, she sighs and checks her provisions, could probably stretch the sausages a day or two before I have to hunt. She douses her fire and settles in for another quiet night in the shadow of the wall. She mutters to herself about the bandits on the eastern plains and the orcs testing the southern borders. She was better than this. She deserved better than an escort mission. She goes to sleep wondering who she pissed off at the palace for such a ridiculous assignment.

She’s awoken at dawn by faint tremors. She brushes away her auburn hair and sits up in her tent. There’s almost a rhythm to them. They seem to be growing stronger. She pokes her head out of the tent but sees nothing out of the ordinary. Her equipment rattles in her pack and her horse trots around nervously, ready to bolt. The birds fly from the nearby trees as they shake. She does her best to endure the great noise and shaking as the earth feels like it will tear itself apart. She feels like screaming. Finally… it stops. There’s a loud grinding as the great gate swings open only a crack, just enough for a relatively small figure to pass through. Myra stands and waves, unsure how to greet an Elven princess. Her skin is pale and her black hair is cut short like a pixie, framing her pointed ears. Her eyes are bright green. She wears a tunic embroidered with elemental patterns and tight leather riding pants. Her boots are cinched up to her thigh. Myra bows to her as she approaches. The elven woman is smaller, a foot shorter than the knight. The tight tunic and riding pants do little to hide her curves. 

The elf looks at her skeptically, "You are to be my escort then?" 

"I am Myra Quinthallen, First Sword of the King, here to ensure your stay in our lands is safe and enjoyable." Myra says it proudly. 

"I suppose you will do, I am Talia," the elf sighs and sits down near the remains of the previous night's fire, "I would like to eat now."

Myra notices for the first time that the woman carries no food, no weapon, and no pack. "I can make us breakfast if you like. Odd to send a princess afield unprepared."

"Why would I prepare when I have you to rely on? You may start." She looks at Myra expectantly. Myra sighs and starts gathering wood to light the fire. After piling up some logs and sticks she pulls out a piece of flint and strikes it with her knife until the spark takes. "How quaint," Talia says as she watches. Myra gives her a look as she puts the cast iron on the fire and tosses in several sausages. Soon they start to sizzle. Talia eyes them hungrily.

"Did you feel those tremors earlier? Strangest thing…" Myra tries to make small talk. It is not her speciality. 

"Tremors? Oh…  those," Talia shrugs, "The wall has strange effects on the land. Strong magics. Are those done yet?" Talia reaches in with her bare hand to take a sausage. 

"Wait! Those are… " Myra tries to stop her but she's too slow. Talia grabs the sizzling sausage with her bare fingers and bites into it without hesitation. The grease runs down her chin. She almost gives a moan as she licks her lips. 

"These are delicious!" The elf smiles for the first time and downs another and another after that. Myra reaches in to get one before the princess scarfs them all down but jerks back as the sausage burns her fingers. She reaches back to get her fork and turns around to see the pan is empty, a dozen sausages having disappeared down the elf's gullet. Talia gives her a ravenous look, licking her fingers. "I would like some more, human."

Myra looks at the slim elf in disbelief, "That was all we had."

Talia's stomach growls, "Well, I suppose you should find something to appease me." 

"Fine," Myra huffs and stands up to get ready to go hunting, tightening the leather on her armor and strapping on her sword and bow. "You stay here. If there's any danger, yell and I'll come running." 

"Where are you going?" Talia asks. 

"To hunt something to fill us both up," Myra slings her quiver over her shoulder. 

At the word hunt Talia gets a slight grin, "Perhaps I should go with you! So you're close by in case of danger." She steps up to Myra. "You are my escort after all." 

"Why are you so eager all of a sudden?" Myra looks down at the shorter woman. 

"Because I wish to see the First Sword of the King at work." 

Myra nods, "Very well, if you insist. Just stay behind me and try to keep quiet." 

Myra leads Talia into the nearby woods. She doesn't wish to alarm the elf but the land near the wall is thought to be cursed. No villages are nearby and the woods are rife with bandits and outcast orcs. She's hoping she can find a good size deer or elk to get them through the next few days so they can leave soon. 

Talia follows closely, gazing around the forest. So many new smells and noises. She marvels at how tall the trees are. She sniffs at the air curiously. Her stomach gives a groan. 

Myra sighs, "I said be quiet…" 

"Like I can help that. How do you expect me to live off of so little? You should've been more prepared. Why back home I could eat a dozen whole… " 

Myra shushes her, reaching out to stop her next step. The knight gestures down by her feet. A rope trap lays hidden beneath the leaves. Myra motions back the way they came. Talia starts to back up slowly as Myra draws her sword. 

"Go!" Myra says to Talia as an orc pops out of the brush just behind them. Talia scrambles away as the knight turns to block the blade heading toward the back of her neck. Another emerges from the front, and another, and another. She's surrounded! Myra charges in and cuts down two with swift slices before turning to block another. Talia watches from the nearby bushes with a grin as Myra dances through the ambush. Myra is a blur as the orcs attempt to slice her. She takes down three more with whirling slices before they manage to cut her leg. Her steps falter, but she swings again, managing the revenge slice. The orcs see her weakening and close in. One slices at her sword arm as her blade drops to the ground. Talia rolls her eyes and frowns when she sees the orcs carry the knight away. She whispers an incantation as Myra blacks out. 

Myra comes to in her tent. She lifts her sword arm and sees no wound. She groans and rubs her eyes. "More fucking nightmares…"

"You really should rest. Are you hungry?" Talia's voice comes from outside. 

"What the hell happened?" Myra asks.

Talia comes into the tent with some strange steaks. "Eat," she says as she hands one to Myra. The knight looks at it suspiciously for a moment but takes a bite. "You don't remember? The orcs were dragging you away after your valiant battle when a great beast…" Talia is interrupted by her own uncharacteristically loud belch, "... crashed through the trees and scattered them. I was able to heal you and drag you back. Also took some of their food." Talia has already finished her steak. 

"That's some beast! We should start back, tell the king! Start arranging a hunting party!" Myra sits up fast but let's out a pained groan. 

"One more day, then we leave." Talia assures her, "rest. You fought well." She gets up to leave the tent, letting Myra sleep. She sits by the fire and tears into another steak. She stops a moment to pick at something stuck in her teeth. She loosens the offending morsel with her tongue and spits it into her hand. She looks down and sees that she's holding a crude, mangled little sword. She giggles and rubs her stomach, hearing the cries within. After finishing the last orc steak she crawls into the tent and curls up next to the sleeping Myra. "Sleep well, my little knight," she whispers, "until the great beast strikes again."