The rays of the summer sun beat down on Shandalar as she knelt down in her garden. She took pride and joy in her garden, every vegetable tended to with care and elven pride.

Soon a looming shadow blocked out the sun. Of course she was beginning to expect this. Without looking she simply spoke, “Hello Bael.” Continuing to harvest her vegetables.

“Hello my dear, I have brought you a gift of spices from far and wide, as a thanks for my last visit, such a stomach ache!” Bael knelt down beside the short elf, and began carefully pulling out the vegetables alongside her.

“I don’t need thanks.” Shandalar said dryly.

Bael giggled coyly, “Maybe so, but then I wouldn’t have a reason to find my way here again would I?”

“Mhm.” Shandalar nodded. “That will do.”

Shandalar reached for the basket, hissing in pain. Bael glanced down and saw a burn scar peeking from under her sleeve. She offered a claw, the crimson scales glittering like rubies in the sun. Shandalar took the claw, and stood up. “Shandalar, I will cook for you tonight, if you don’t mind? I have a treat for us.”

“Fine. do as you wish,” Shandalar let go of the claw, wondering how something so big and strong could be tender and gentle.

The pair walked into the hut, Bael ducking under the doorframe, and pointed to the chair. “Sit, I will do everything tonight.”

Shandalar nodded, sitting down while Bael set to work clearing herself a space to work. She selected a knife from the wall and began slicing vegetables. She began to sing a familiar, solemn tune.

Shandalar paused for a moment and frowned. “How do you know that song? I haven’t known anyone but my kind to know it.”

Bael smiled, “I had a… friend who taught it to me. She was from the Great Elvish City of Thylnatheas,” She looked saddened after speaking, “I should go back there and visit her. She'd be a large tree by now.”

Shandalar paused for a moment, “Thylnatheas was destroyed centuries ago, that would make you well over six hundred years old.”

Bael shrugged and opened her satchel, pulling out a pan of unknown origin and a jar filled with a mysterious white fluid, “As I’ve said, I’m older than I look.”

She continued, using some of the spices she brought with her, soon the hut filling with a strange but enticing aroma.

Shandalar bit her lip, trying to hold her tongue, but even she found herself more and more curious about this woman who kept visiting her. Eventually she relented. “Bael, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”.

Bael froze for a moment, an intense look on her face. For a moment, the air was thick with tension. Bael laughed suddenly, “Didn’t you know? It’s rude to ask a lady her age”

The elf nodded, “I apologise for prying, I shan’t press further.”

Bael served her strange dish in two bowls, handing one to Shandlar. Sitting down beside the elf on the floor, she was still face to face with her.

“Eat, I hope this appeals to your palette.”

Shandalar looked down at her meal, a strange thick orange soup, with vegetables from her own garden, as well as a few strange plants.

“What is this?” She asked, observing a spoonful.

“I’m glad you asked my dear. This is called ‘Curry’. It’s a dish from the west. The tropical island nations there made this. It’s a popular dish amongst the commoners.”

Shandalar’s eyes went wide. The delight of a young girl spread across her face, before she realised, and composed herself. “It’s good. We don’t have anything like that around here. I can’t believe commoners are allowed to eat this.”

Bael offered a cocky grin to the elf, “I made the same face the first time I had it too,” Despite sitting on the floor, the way she ate was almost regal, “You spend a lot of time acting like you don’t care, it’s very cute.”

Shandalar pinched her brow, frowning, “You may be pretty, but you are a nuisance.”

Bael’s grin only intensified, “Pretty am I?” Bael rested her hand on her chin. Shandalar went red, going silent and finishing her meal.

Bael’s gaze softened, staring at Shandalar, “You know, you have the most enchanting blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“All elves have blue eyes. I’m nothing special.”

“I’ve met many elves my dear, none as interesting or as beautiful,” Bael continued, “I think you are more easy to be around than you think. You tell the most interesting stories.”

Shandalar shook her head, “I’ve barely told you anything.”

Bael bit her lip, “As I said with our first encounter, not all stories are told with words,” Bael stood up and offered her claw to the small elf, “How about we go for a walk, the air is still warm, and the moon is out.”

Shandalar hesitated for a moment, before reaching out to the claw.

“Would you like me to guess your story? You can tell me at any stage if I’ve gotten something wrong,” Bael asked.

“Okay, do your best,” Shandalar was curious to see how much the large woman knew about her.

Bael nodded, “You were born in an elvish city, I will guess… Falantras,” she started. She looked down and could see she was being listened to intently, “An outsider though, not fitting in with elves. But a great fire left your home in ashes, one of the only survivors, and with that mark on your arm, you weren’t unscathed.”

Shandalar, self conscious pulled her sleeve down slightly, “So far you have got it.” Saddened at the reminder.

“Such a sad loss, I enjoyed my stay there. The people were vibrant and sociable. But that’s not your cup of tea, so you left and went to live near humans, who still see you as an outsider, so you live just close enough to help people, but far enough that you will be left alone.”

The pair continued walking, Shandalar shocked that so much could be so obvious to this woman, as if she knew more about her than herself.

“Correct. How’d you know? I’ve told you nothing,” Shandalar asked. Her features were softened, her usually gruff exterior gone, her curious nature peeking out.

“I’ve travelled for a long time. I’ve known more people than I can count, you pick a nose up for these things if you are alive for long enough. Too long,” Bael sighed in sadness.

“I see. How many places have you been to?” The elf looked up at her, wide eyed.

“All of them. I think I’ve been to every city, town and village. I’ve seen all sights and experienced so much, but it changes without me, which means the next time I visit a town, it could be a city, or it could be ruins.” A tear ran down the dragoness’ cheek.

Shandalar rested her hand on Bael’s claw. It seemed so tiny in comparison. Their eyes met and Shandalar stared into Bael’s emerald eyes, “You don’t need to share any more if you don’t want to”

Bael shook her head, “It’s okay,” Bael took a deep breath and sighed, “Thank you, Shandalar.