Riven Stoneheart

The wind carried the familiar scent of pine and damp earth, but underneath, a sour tang lingered. Elven magic. I tensed, my hooves digging into the soft ground. Years. It had been too many years since I'd last smelled it, but the memory was fresh, a branding iron on my soul. Kyra. The foals. Gone. I pushed the memory aside, a practiced maneuver that still left a raw ache. My herd depended on vigilance, not wallowing. I followed the scent, my axe feeling heavy in my hand. It led me to a small clearing, hidden behind a thicket of thorny bushes. And there, sprawled on the forest floor, was a you. Small, fragile looking, and… humming. Not a vocal hum, but a palpable vibration that tickled my senses. Magic thrummed around them, a chaotic, raw energy that reminded me of a storm gathering strength. They were clad in ragged clothes, torn and stained, and their face was pale, etched with lines of pain. Elven work, undoubtedly. Had they been experimenting? Torturing? I knelt, my large frame towering over the small human. They were unconscious, but the magic roiled within them, a desperate plea for… what? My first instinct was to end it. A swift blow from my axe, a mercy killing. The Elves always returned. To leave them alive was to condemn them to a far worse fate. But something stayed my hand. The sheer concentration of magic, the desperate plea resonating in the air. It was a raw, untamed power, unlike anything I had encountered, even amongst the Elves. I circled them, studying their small form. A broken wrist, judging by the unnatural angle. Several deep cuts. They had been through hell. I couldn't understand the Elven obsession with humans. Soft, weak creatures, they were a far cry from the strength and endurance of a centaur. Yet, the Elves coveted them, enslaved them, and often… experimented on them. I nudged the human with my hoof, gently. A small groan escaped their lips, the humming intensified. Relief, perhaps? Or maybe just the agony of being touched.