The adventurers wandered through the drab, lifeless village and toward hallowed grounds, guided by the tolling bells, unchallenged by guard or watchman. The chimes of the carillon faded out; their clanging quieted in grave reverie of another service. The church doors had closed; through the stained-glass windows came the muffled chants of devotion. It was the rustle of a single leaf that attracted Symon's attention to the lonely child that sat on a bench near the entrance of the cemetery, her head bowed, her hands folded. She was adorable, as all little girls that age were, except for the hand-me-down clothes and the messy hair. Short, the trim jagged, with tufts going off in all directions, she resembled a scarecrow. The sound of the approaching quarterstaff on the flagstones startled her from prayer; wide-eyed, she stared at the approaching wizard. "Magic. You are magic." The fear in her voice shattered Symon. The girl raised a small book, hiding her face behind the pages as if to ward off a terrible menace. "Yes, I am. I am the magic that protects. I mean you no harm." His voice dark and warm, Symon hunkered down to earn her trust, his hand reaching out to her. It was only the arcane runes that adorned the collar of his cape that she had eyes for, however. Symon did not know how to break the impasse, and when Avelyn pushed him over and whispered to let her handle the situation, he gladly stepped back. "Hello, little girl, my name is Avelyn. Do you mind if I sit beside you for a while?" The girl moved a few inches, just far enough for Avelyn to squeeze in on the narrow bench. "You have such pretty dimples. May I know your name?" "Elfie." With her chin pressed firmly against her chest and fidgeting with her fingers, the girl stared down at her worn-out shoes. "Well met, Elfie. Now let me take a look at you." Persuasion made way for concern. "Who cut your hair like that?" she whispered. "Did an older brother play a cruel prank on you?" Elfie slumped back even further. "You can tell me, I'm no more than a listening ear, soon to travel on. I won't spill your secrets; I have no reason to." "It was a gnome," Elfie whispered. "I broke the vase of the Baroness, and he made me promise..." Avelyn wrapped an arm around the girl and pulled her close. "You don't need to explain any further. I understand. That scoundrel restored the vase for you, didn't he? Up to the last shard. All in exchange for your hair." Elfie burst out in tears. "I had such beautiful curls, and now my friends are too scared to play with me. The Baroness says I can't attend church like this. Mother cries every night." She snivelled and wiped her eyes. "The gnome visits every new moon, and he laughs and dances..." The remainder of her woes got lost in a tearful blubbering. "I see." Avelyn held a thick strand of her own hair between two fingers, and with the gesture of scissors closing, she snipped it off and held it against Elfie's head. "This red will look great on you." She let go of the lock; it had woven seamlessly into Elfie's ragged tufts. "Don't be afraid. I won't demand anything in return, not even your gratitude." Elfie did not protest, she sat upright, not daring to twitch a muscle until Avelyn told her she had finished. Elfie combed her hand through her hair, stroking it, pulling it aside, craning her neck to see its colour and to gauge its length. Symon thought to see the beginnings of a nervous smile just before an outright terror crushed all of that expression. Please rate this text