Sam wasn’t sure what made him stop.

  Maybe it was the tone of their voices—sharp and mocking, the kind that instantly set his teeth on edge. Or maybe it was the way the girl barely moved, standing stiff as a statue while their words hit her like blows.

  Either way, before he even realized what he was doing, his feet had already carried him toward the alley.

  The group of boys, three in total, towered over a girl who barely reached Sam’s shoulders. Her green hair was messy, her pointed ears twitching slightly as she shrank back against the stone wall behind her.

  One of the boys prodded her shoulder with a sneer. “You deaf or something? Or are all elves just this dumb?”

  Sylra flinched but kept her head down.

  Sam felt something ugly churn in his chest.

  Another boy crossed his arms, glancing at the small basket in Sylra’s hands. "Bet you stole that, huh? Everyone knows elves can’t be trusted."

  Sylra clutched the basket tighter, her knuckles white. "I didn’t—"

  "Liar," the first boy snapped, reaching for the basket.

  Sam moved.

  Before the boy could yank it away, Sam stepped between them, gripping the kid’s wrist. Not hard enough to hurt—just enough to make a point.

  The boy yelped, jerking his arm back. “What the hell?!”

  Sam ignored him, turning toward Sylra. Her eyes, a striking mix of green and gold, stared up at him—wide with shock, but beneath that, a guarded wariness.

  "You okay?" Sam asked.

  Sylra blinked, looking between him and the other boys. She didn’t answer, just held onto her basket like it was her last lifeline.

  One of the bullies scoffed. “Who the hell are you?”

  Sam tilted his head, feigning confusion. "Me? Oh, I’m just some dumb kid who hates watching other dumb kids act tough in front of someone smaller than them."

  The first boy’s face twisted in anger. “You little—”

  Sam’s shadow flickered.

  A barely-there movement, subtle enough to go unnoticed by most—but not by the boys in front of him. The dim lantern light of the market stretched his silhouette unnaturally long, dark tendrils shifting along the ground like something alive.

  The leader paled. “Tch… whatever. Freak." He shot one last glare at Sylra. "Not like anyone wants an elf here anyway."

  With that, the three of them turned and stalked off, throwing nervous glances over their shoulders as they disappeared into the crowd.

  Sam let out a slow breath, the tension in his body easing.

  He turned back to Sylra, expecting some kind of reaction—relief, gratitude, anything.

  Instead, she just stared at him.

  “…Why did you do that?”

  Her voice was quiet but steady.

  Sam scratched the back of his head. “Uh… because they were being jerks?”

  Sylra frowned slightly, as if she wasn’t sure she believed him.

  Then, without another word, she turned and started walking away.

  “Hey—wait, what?" Sam called after her. "That’s it? Not even a ‘thanks’?"

  Sylra stopped. She didn’t turn around, but after a brief hesitation, she mumbled, “I didn’t need your help.”

  Sam blinked. Then let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

  "Right. Sure."

  Without looking back, Sylra disappeared into the marketplace crowd, leaving Sam standing there alone.

  He let out a sigh.

  "What a weird kid."

  Sam figured that was the end of it.

  He was wrong.

  Later that afternoon, as he wandered through the market stalls, he spotted Sylra again. This time, though, she wasn’t alone.

  The same boys from before stood in front of her, but now, an older man—one of their fathers—was with them. His expression was sharp with disapproval as he looked down at Sylra, who was standing rigid, her hands clenched into fists.

  “…Your kind shouldn’t be here.”

  Sam froze.

  He hadn’t expected the situation to get worse, but now that it had, there was no way he could just walk away.

  Taking a steadying breath, he pushed through the small crowd that had gathered.

  “She didn’t do anything,” Sam said as he stepped beside Sylra. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  The man’s gaze flicked to Sam. "Ah. You’re the one who interfered earlier."

  Sam didn’t respond, just crossed his arms and waited.

  The man let out a slow, deliberate sigh. "Listen, boy. You may not understand, but elves—especially half-elves—bring trouble. It’s better if she—"

  "Better if she what?" Sam cut in.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. "You’re too young to get involved in things like this."

  Sam clenched his fists. "She’s nine."

  "So are you," the man said simply. "And yet you act like you understand the world."

  Sam’s nails bit into his palm. He knew that feeling. The way adults talked down to him like he didn’t know anything, like his feelings didn’t matter. It pissed him off.

  He glanced at Sylra. She was stiff, her expression carefully blank—but her hands were shaking.

  She did care. She just wasn’t saying it.

  Sam exhaled sharply, forcing himself to loosen his hands. He wasn’t about to let this guy think he’d won.

  “Come on, Sylra,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Let’s go.”

  For a moment, she didn’t move.

  Then, finally, she turned on her heel and walked past the man without a word.

  Sam followed, his heart hammering in his chest.

  They didn’t speak until they were well out of earshot.

  Then, finally—

  “…I still didn’t need your help.”

  Sam huffed. “Yeah? Then why didn’t you just walk away?”

  Sylra didn’t answer.

  Sam shot her a sideways glance. Now that he was getting a better look at her, he realized she was thinner than most kids her age, like she wasn’t eating enough. Her clothes, while not ragged, looked old.

  Something about that made his chest feel tight.

  After a moment, Sylra sighed. "…You’re weird."

  Sam blinked. "You’re welcome?"

  Sylra hesitated, then mumbled, “…Thanks."

  Sam smirked. "Wow. You almost sounded sincere."

  Sylra shot him a glare, but there was no real bite to it.

  For the first time since they met, Sam saw something shift in her expression—something softer, almost uncertain.

  She still didn’t trust him.

  But maybe, just maybe—

  That could change.

  The market was busy, bustling with life. People were haggling over prices, carts of produce rolling by, and children played in the street. But for Sylra, it felt like nothing more than a blur—a sea of faces she couldn’t connect with, a world that didn’t want her.

  Sam noticed it the moment they sat down on the steps of a small shop by the edge of the market. Sylra had barely said anything since they left the confrontation with the man and his sons. She sat stiffly, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as if trying to make herself invisible.

  Sam wasn’t sure what to say. The awkward silence stretched out between them, and he could tell that Sylra wasn’t going to open up on her own.

  “So… what’s the deal with them?” Sam asked, a little unsure of how to start the conversation. “The bullies, I mean.”

  Sylra didn’t look at him, but her voice came out soft, guarded. “I don’t know… they just don’t like me.”

  Sam frowned. "Well, that’s obvious. But… why?"

  She hesitated, then let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging. "It’s because I’m not full elf," she muttered. “I don’t belong anywhere. Not with humans. Not with elves."

  Sam watched her for a moment, trying to think of something to say. The words felt awkward in his mouth, and for the first time in a while, he was unsure how to make someone feel better.

  "I get it," he finally said. "Not exactly the same, but... I know what it feels like to be different."

  Sylra lifted her head, her golden eyes meeting his, wary but curious. "You do?"

  Sam scratched the back of his neck, looking away as he thought of his old life—of the days when he felt like an outcast there, too. "Yeah… kinda. You know, being a kid and not fitting in… it’s like, you feel like everyone’s looking at you like you don’t belong."

  Sylra looked down at her hands, nodding slowly. "It’s not just that. It’s…" She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper, “It’s that they always remind me. I hear it everywhere—half-elf, outcast, thief."

  Sam bit his lip, feeling the weight of her words. He didn’t fully understand the depth of her pain, but he knew what it felt like to be cast aside, treated differently for something you couldn’t change.

  "That’s... that’s a lot of crap," Sam said, trying to sound confident. "But hey, you’re not alone, okay? Not if you don’t want to be. I mean—look, you’ve got me now."

  He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "And, uh, I’m not much, but I’m pretty good at fighting. So, if you wanna, like, learn some moves or something, I could totally teach you."

  Sylra blinked, surprised. "You want me to… train with you?"

  “Yeah!” Sam nodded eagerly. "You’ve got good instincts. I saw how you moved when those bullies were around. You’re fast—quicker than most people." He grinned. "I could use someone who’s good at, you know, not getting caught."

  Sylra blinked again, her guarded expression softening just a little. “I’m not good at fighting…”

  "I didn’t say you had to fight," Sam interrupted, shaking his head. "You don’t need to be good at fighting to learn something. But if you like, I can teach you a thing or two about how to stay out of trouble. And maybe Isonorai can teach you some magic stuff."

  Sylra’s gaze shifted to the ground, her fingers tracing the edge of her sleeve. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for that…”

  "Well, if you don’t try, you’ll never know, right?" Sam shrugged, trying to keep his tone casual. "Besides, we’re pretty good at teaching. Isonorai’s, like, a whole wizard already, and Lareth’s a beast with a sword."

  Sylra tilted her head, a small spark of interest in her eyes. "You think I could be good at it?"

  Sam smiled a little. "You’re already better than some of the people I’ve trained with. I’m not saying you’ll be a master or anything, but..." He hesitated, then added, "I think you’ll surprise yourself."

  There was a long pause, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was getting through to her. But finally, she nodded, just barely. “I’ll think about it.”

  The next day, Sam found Sylra waiting for him by the training area just outside the village. She was standing near a tall stack of wooden targets, looking unsure but determined.

  Sam grinned. "You came."

  "Yeah," Sylra muttered, her arms crossed over her chest. "But only because you said I could learn something."

  Sam laughed. “I’m glad you came anyway.”

  They started with basic exercises. Sylra was hesitant at first, but after a few attempts, she began to get the hang of things. Her footwork wasn’t as stiff as Sam had expected, and her reflexes were sharp, like she’d been training for something all her life—even if it wasn’t fighting.

  They spent the morning practicing agility drills, moving between obstacles, and learning how to read the flow of combat. After a few tries, Sam showed her a basic defensive move, a quick shift of the body to avoid a blow. To his surprise, Sylra picked it up quickly, her movements fluid and precise.

  By the afternoon, they were practicing with a bow. Sylra had an easy time with it, her aim surprisingly accurate for someone who had never touched a weapon before.

  Isonorai had been watching from a distance, and she finally came over to join them. "You know, she’s got potential," she said with a smile. “Her form’s a bit off, but that’s easy to fix.”

  Sam nodded. "Yeah, she’s quick to pick up stuff."

  Sylra hesitated, but then she gave a small smile. “I used to watch the older elves practice when I was younger. I guess it stuck with me.”

  "Good thing it did," Sam said with a grin. “You’ll make a great archer if you keep at it.”

  After a few more hours of training, the two of them sat together under the shade of a tree. Sylra was breathing heavily, clearly exhausted but happy.

  “Thanks,” she said softly, her voice just above a whisper. "I don’t really have anyone to teach me. I never thought someone would want to."

  Sam chuckled. "Well, you’ve got me now. And I’m not going anywhere."

  Sylra glanced at him, her eyes softening. “I… I think I could get used to this.”

  Sam smiled. "Good. Because I’m sticking with you. You don’t have to do this alone."

  She looked away, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks. "Yeah. I know."

  And with that, Sam felt something shift between them—a budding friendship, fragile but real. And as he watched Sylra, a small spark of hope kindling in her eyes, he knew this was only the beginning of something greater.