The day was bright and clear in the summer woods that day. Sunlight filtered through a lace canopy of green, leaving a dappled pattern of light and shade across the forest floor. Saplings stretched forth their leaves to the light and heat as small creatures scurried with those seeds not sprung.
Within the center of it all, seemingly oblivious to the world around them, two young elves faced one another. The male had never experienced love before and the female was recovering from an experience that had been less than pleasurable. Their green eyes danced in the sun light and their fingers bearly touched. Two lithe bodies tensed in anticipation of what was soon to come even as pointed ears turned forward to listen to one another's heart beats.
They were woods elves, apart and seperate from the rest of the elven kind. They lived in harmony with the woods and the creatures that dwelled within. There was no "moral standard" to which most other races adhered. They had their own and it was so ingrained in them that living was the only goal.
Suddenly, as thier lips brushed, the air began to shimmer and part. A shaply leg stepped out and a hand followed suit. The delicate fingers tossed several things into the air and, even as the elves bolted, the stones took chase. Three amber stones began whirling about them, dragging them down as if by a great weight. Soon, they were held by winking flashes of sun-light.
The woman approached. She was tall, delicate and human. Her gown was white as her shoulder-length hair and both glittered with gems and crystals in clear and white. She smiled sensuously. "Hmmm... And just who shall I take? The boy? Yes... His magic force is strong..." A long fingered hand tossed two greenish-colored citrines into the air and they began whirling only about the male.
He felt himself being pulled away from his weeping companion to the woman. He was suddenly in her grasp, his body rigid with fear. He'd heard tales of the White Witch who "Harvested" young elves for their magic and, if it did not kill them, left them completely drained. But nothing was told for ten years, the tales forgotten by fun-loving elflings! Could this be her?
Then he knew it was. She latched onto him, draining his body of his magic, leaving him crying out with pain. He felt as though his head would explode! But then, suddenly, it stopped. He was thrown to the ground and he felt his beloved, his own Myleer, gathering him into her arms. He tried to speak, tried to move. But he felt like an insect drained by a spider's thirst.
"Take this one to your clan, little one. Heal him and fix him or he shall surely die. Tell your queen that the culling begins again! The 'White Witch', Xexarias... Is back!" Laughing, she stepped back through the portal to her own place, leaving the woods again in harmony but the elves more scared than they'd been in years.
© 2001 Stormpoint Writers Guild
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