There once was an elf who lived within a giant castle. The elf was a she, and she had a close circle of elf friends whom she cared for very much. The elf and her friends were all servants for the King and Queen of the castle. They had rigorous training everyday to ensure that no mistake was to be made, and one day, the elf could no longer stand the harsh lessons and she quit. She threw in the towel and quit.
But what could she do, other than being a servant? Her cooking skills were up to some standard, but not to the top- notch standard of a palace cook.
The castle could not forever provide free lodging and food without recieving something in return. They cast her out, not soon after.
She stood outside the large brick castle, watching the iron gates close off the only place she had ever known from her, helpless. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell off the slightly uneven surface and down into the soft green velvet grass. She stood there for a long time, before she finally picked up her small silk bag and made her way downhill. The silk bag contained nothing but a snowglobe from her friends, and a pari of extra wings.
There was nowhere she could go other than the dwelving of the forest faerie folk, for the only village reachable was inhabited completely by humans, and she had long been taught that the humans were prejudiced against the magick beings.
So she journeyed toward the forest, a yearn in her heart for her past life, and a growing dread inside.
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