“Foot sniffer!”

“Rat licker!”

“Troll lover!”

“Sloo snutter!”

Chiani stopped in her tracks, her forest boots sliding to a halt on the dry, bleached Freeportian dirt.  Rounding the blind corner, the human boy ran into the back of her before he could stop.

“A what?” she asked, turning around.

“I called you a ‘sloo snutter!’” the boy replied with a playful shove to her shoulder.

Chiani blinked a moment, calmly folding her arms.  “Well, what on Norrath is that?”

“Ever look in a mirror?” the boy chided.  “A face like that could only belong to a sloo snutter!”

Nearis’s insipid giggle sounded from off to one side.  Her eyes narrowing, the dark elf glared her little brother into submission, reminding him who was in charge here.

“Doesn’t count,” she said, returning her attention back to the human.

“Does,” he declared firmly.

“Does not,” she maintained.  “It’s not even a real word.”

“Is too.”

“S’not!”

“S’too!”

“Snot!” Chiani barked as she gave the boy another shove similar to the one he’d given her earlier.  Before he could react, she took off running again, resuming their playful chase round the broken column. 

Such was typical of life in Freeport since their arrival several years earlier, along with the huddled masses of other Teir’Dal fleeing the broken lands of Norrath.  Though the city-state of Freeport itself lay in virtual ruin, it became the de facto rallying site for all surrounding nations since the Shattering claimed their lands.  Literally, races came from near and far to lick their wounds and rebuild civilization.  Though currently a pale semblance of its former self in this world, Freeport offered something one simply could not find out in the shattered lands.

It offered hope.

Rebuilding in the aftermath of the Shattering wasn’t easy, however.  The process was slow and every able-bodied citizen was expected to carry not only his own weight, but that of his family.  Consequently, Chiani’s mother found herself laboring each and every day from sunrise to sunset, preparing constant meals for the builders who slaved to reconstruct the city’s walls.  It was certainly a routine that took some getting used to after the relative opulence of Neriak, and naturally it fell to Chiani to keep an eye on her younger brother during the daytime.

This suited her fine, since Nearis practically took care of himself, and the young Teir’Dal girl valued her freedom to do as she pleased.  More often than not, this meant spending time with friends she’d made among the city’s culturally mottled populace—something she knew her mother would certainly condemn if she ever found out about it.  None of the grown up Teir’Dal would understand, in fact.  All of them, without exception, advocated an enforced segregation between themselves and the other races, particularly in regards to the children who had escaped the holocaust in Neriak.

But Chiani learned to be sneaky.  She decided her fellow dark elves were stuffy and depressing compared to the other races, and longed to be a part of the vibrancy she saw among all of them.  Humans in particular caught her eye as a treasure trove of diversity she thought peculiar for a people.  It fascinated her to no end, and her enthusiasm to watch and participate was boundless.

Sadly, she discovered that Teir’Dal weren’t the only advocates of segregation.  Her first secret outing into the human community was met with suspicion, loathing, and even outright fear of her very presence.  She couldn’t understand it.  After all, she was just a little girl.  What had she done to them?

This sentiment seemed woefully universal until she came across a human boy huddled in a makeshift lean-to on her way home.  The boy was weeping bitterly, his arms wrapped around his knees, pulled tightly to his chest.  Back and forth he swayed as sobs wracked his body.  Looking around, Chiani found nobody nearby who might have seen or heard the boy—nor anyone who might have been a parent or caretaker.

She decided to take matters into her own hands.

“Hey,” she began.  “You okay?”

Still sobbing, the boy offered no response, nor gave any sign he’d even heard her.  Slowly, Chiani approached.  A strange smell met her nose.  It was pungent and unfamiliar, but then again what wasn’t around here?

“Hey,” she repeated. 

This time she reached out a hand to the boy’s arm.  Again, her touch elicited no response.  He looked to be about her age, or at least the human equivalent.  Something horrible obviously vexed the boy.  Judging by the smell, Chiani wondered if maybe he needed a bath or something.  She didn’t know what to think.

“What’s wrong?” she asked plaintively.  “Please tell me?  Maybe I can help.”

A whisper reached her pointed ears.  The boy was saying something over and over as he rocked back and forth.  Listening closely, Chiani could make out the words “grandma, grandma, grandma…”

“Grandma?” she replied.  “I don’t understand.  What-“

That was when Chiani noticed an irritable buzzing noise coming from deeper within the lean-to.  It sounded like hundreds of insects flying all around in there.  Craning her neck, Chiani peeked into the shadows where her keen dark elf vision spied the source of the smell and buzzing sounds.  What she saw made her gut cramp violently, bringing her hand to her mouth lest she lose her last meal.

“Innoruuk’s bane,” she muttered, borrowing a phrase she’d always heard her father use.

Still the boy wept.

Eventually Chiani found out the boy’s name was Keenin.  The Shattering had claimed the lives of both his parents, leaving his grandmother as his only surviving guardian.  Their journey to Freeport had been grueling, and his frail grandmother had taken ill during the last leg.  Hastily building their lean-to two evenings earlier, the woman had implored the boy to tend her while she slept.  The boy agreed, of course, but succumbed to his own fatigue and fell asleep at her side.  He awoke the following morning to discover she had passed away during the night.

The boy was guilt-ridden.  He had let his grandma down.  He hadn’t been there to take care of her, which in his own mind was tantamount to having killed her himself.  Not knowing what to do, small Keenin stayed at her side throughout the following day and night, desperately forcing himself to keep alert.  In vain, he sat there clinging to the hope that his belated obedience might merit his grandma’s return.  In the end, circumstances had driven the woeful boy outdoors where he’d given in to despair.

“Mule muncher!”

“Dirt snorter!”

“Frog flicker!”

“Elf kisser!”

“Hey!  I never kissed no elf!”

“You have now!”

Turning about on a now older Keenin whose bitter memories have been fitfully tucked away by a few years of fun and friendship, Chiani pounced on her unsuspecting playmate and planted her lips firmly against his as they both fell to the ground.

The boy sputtered.  “What in Marr’s name did you do that for?”

“I dunno,” Chiani shrugged with a leer.  “Just wanted to see what it was like.”

“Well, don’t!” Keenin bucked helplessly beneath her.  “You stink, inkie!”

“Ha!” the girl retorted.  “Have you been around yourself lately?  You’re the one who stinks!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

Sighing, Chiani grabbed hold of the boy’s tunic at the armpit and pressed the loose cloth up to his nose.

“Ugh…. Are too!” the boy finally conceded with a cough.

Laughing, the dark elf stood up, releasing her prisoner.  “Sorry,” she shrugged.  “I saw an opportunity and went for it.  Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“It’s all right,” Keenin chuckled, dusting himself off.  “I just never-…“

Looking up, the boy found Chiani staring off into the distance, a stunned expression marring her blue features.  Turning to see what affected her so, Keenin found the unmistakable silhouette of her mother standing some distance away.  There was no indication of how long she’d been there, but obviously long enough to see what just happened.

“I have to go,” Chiani muttered.

Part III

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