Two birds, one with feathers as blue as the noon sky, the second yellow as a morning sun, landed at the ground at his feet. They looked questioningly up at him for a moment, then to the dead bird. He set the bird on the ground a few feet away from him, and the two birds flapped forward. They positioned themselves on either side of the scarlet bird and bowed their heads to touch him with their bright beaks. Then, with one, swift movement, they lifted themselves up off the ground and seized the bird with their talons, soaring up into the sky to disappear among the treetops. He smiled slightly as he saw them fly away. They would dipose of their dead as they saw fit. It did not surprise him that they would do so; each had a mind of its own, a mind just as intelligent as his or another elf's. Many failed to see this, but he had come to know and understand their actions during his time in this place. He raised a hand and waved one last goodbye to them.

"Crying for a bird now?"

The voice came from behind the oak tree in front of him, mocking him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, lowering his hand to the ground.

"Cador, you really are too much," the voice said again. "It's only a bird, not another elf. If you need to talk to someone, you can talk to someone of your own kind who can actually understand you. Oh wait, that's right, you're kind of an elf on your own, aren't you?" Cador balled his fingers up into a fist, taking deep breaths to stay calm. Only a bird! He didn't know a single thing about the forests and their way of life. How had he found this place? He thought he was the only one who knew about it.

"You can come out from behind the tree, Rynd. I know you're there. You're spirit act isn't going to fool me," he sighed, trying to keep his voice even. There was an obvious sound of disappointment, and then an elf stepped out from behind the tree.

"I'm surprised you didn't think it was a spirit, Cador, with the way you talk all the time. 'They all have minds of their own, even the trees, Rynd. You should know that.' Geez," the elf sneered.

Cador studied Rynd for a moment. He was tall, about a foot and a half taller than he was, with long brown hair that reached to his waist and was pulled back with a strong piece of leather. His green tunic and off-white vest were tucked into a pair of gray breeches. Over his feet was a pair of soft, green boots that nearly reached his knees. The outfit was very similar to Cador's own, except that around Rynd's waist hung a thin belt, and from that hung a small knife in its sheath; Cador was unarmed. Rynd's long ears nearly touched the tree behind him as he looked down at Cador sitting on the ground. His bright golden eyes peered down his nose at him, and his mouth was set in a seemingly permanent mocking scowl. Cador had never seen Rynd with a different expression; sometimes he wondered if he was born like that and could do nothing about the sneering twist of his mouth.

"All elves can speak with the creatures of the forest if they apply themselves," Cador said calmly. "You could do so yourself and find out that there is more behind this forest than you think." Rynd laughed.

"Yes, but none of the others are like you. I mean, who else has white hair, Cador? Name one person! And your skin is as pale as your hair! At least we, the normal elves, I mean, aren't as white as sheets all the time. But you! You weren't even born in the city; in your veins runs the blood of a creature that was certainly not an elf. You and I both know the laws of the city; only elves are allowed to live within the inner walls and can learn our secrets. You live within those walls, and so they have accepted you as their own, even though you are clearly not. You are not like us, Cador! Not like us at all."

"And why am I not like you? The color of my hair and my skin may be different than yours, but that makes me no different than you. All things are equal in my mind," Cador replied.

"Yes, well, that's you, isn't it? Everyone knows that you are different, even if they won't admit it. You are a half-breed, a mutant elf. I'm not surprised you come out here to talk with your little spirit friend," Rynd retorted.

"And yet you do not answer me. Why, exactly, do you say I am different than you or any of the other elves that live in the city?" Cador asked again. His anger was growing slowly, simmering in him like a pot of water waiting to boil. He tried to suppress it, but Rynd was touching soft points, searching for a crack to widen and break him like a fragile piece of pottery. He did not like talking about his past, constantly arguing about the differences between himself and a normal elf.

"Because you are! Can't you see it?" Rynd roared. "You're a freak, Cador!" A freak!"

"At least I'm not half poison and half human, as you are," Cador spat. Rynd gaped at him, his eyes wide and furious. He had delivered the worst insult imaginable. Humans were despised, treated as criminals whenever they came near. There was no love lost between them; there had never been any to lose. Poison was viewed in the same way, dangerous and never touched. It was a killing device, and in a world of peace as the world of the elves was intended to be, it was forbidden. These two combined createa creature worse than any elf in the history of elves could imagine, and was therefore hated. If an elf acted horribly, they were said to be acting like a human. To be human and poison was an insult used only rarely. No one was quite sure what the requirements were that made you cross the line to join this category, but everyone knew when you did.

Rynd reached a hand to his belt and grabbed his knife, drawing it out of the sheath with a soft hiss of sound, and pointed it at Cador. The blade was long and thing, but strong as the oak he stood beside and as sharp as a thorn on a rose.

"Take it back," he hissed, advancing towards Cador with his knife in front of him. Cador simply shook his head.

"I will not," he said firmly. Rynd's eyes narrowed, and he took a few more steps forward.

"Take it back, Cador," he growled again. "Take it back, or I swear."

"Swear what? That you'll slice me with that stick of metal you call a knife? You don't have the courage to," Cador shot back. He knew he was going to far, knew that Rynd was quick to catch his temper, knew that if Rynd got mad enough that he wouldn't be afraid to do as he threatened. He knew that he should have simply ignored Rynd, but now it was too late. His anger had seized control of him like it never had before, pushing him on.

The spirits of the trees and animals around him had all gone quiet and the air was still. Cador stood and leaned casually back against the willow tree, his unbound white hair flowing over his shoulders. Rynd stayed silent as well, staring at Cador. Slowly, a bright, fiery light grew in Rynd's eyes, growing stronger and stronger the longer he stood there. A slight pang of fear struck in Cador's heart, an urgent feel to turn and walk away, but he resisted the urge and stood his ground. Rynd began to speak slowly.

"I may not have the courage to strike you with a knife, Cador," he began, and with a quick flourish brought his left hand up, the other hand still clutching his knife that was now lowered to his side, and a bright flame appeared, dancing over his palm, but not touching it, "but I have learned some magic, too, though not useless like your own. I can kill with a single word. You've seen me do it; I killed your little bird friend. It was simple, as easy as picking up a piece of wood. I could do the same to you, but I won't It would take away all of the fun in the game. And I am not afraid to strike with fire."