It is getting very dark, but the road is gentle and uncomplicated, nevertheless, I keep on stumbling: a perfect bodyguard for a semi-noble elf.

 “We need some rest,” Svartalf finally admits it. “There’s a small cave, about one church candle life from where we are. We'll sleep a couple of hours, and then we’ll continue our way. The last thing I need is your broken leg because of another slippery stone.”

 I would never have found the cave on my own. All the time that we were walking, in the dim light of my magical ‘firefly’, I was eyeing my tired feet, black lava stones and steps that were leading to a small and a large crater-lakes.

 “This way,” says my satellite in a whisper, as if being afraid to break the silence so comfortably nestled between us after a conversation about the true Woodland heir.

 The cave is hidden by a curtain of bindweed and two short fir trees that, like two warriors, stand blocking the entrance.

 Svartalf wants to go first, but I, starting my new role of her bodyguard, put my hand on her shoulder. Making her step back, I squeeze forward with a combat pulsar at the ready. We are greeted by silence and glowing phosphorescent mushrooms. I shouldn’t have showed off - the place is boringly hushed and absolutely safe, at least for the people who are not afraid of rheumatism or glowing edible mushrooms.

 I put a small ward spell on the entrance and go down to the driest corner of the cave. She sits opposite me.

 “Get some sleep, I'll guard you,” elfia's voice is very soft and feminine. Just like hers.  I shiver either from cold, or from my old fear.

 My black basilisk jacket is long enough, therefore, it is not cold to sit on the stones. I roll up her red shawl (let's consider it the advance deposit) and put it under my head. The headpiece smells early autumn and asters.

 I don't know if it is a dream or I am just overwhelmed by the memories evoked by Swartalf's tender voice.

 I felt I was in the capital again. The sun was shining brightly, and there were no clouds in the sky. The stands were full of people and they were chanting my nickname: Crow!  Crow!  Crow!  Crow!  I cockily marched to the pedestal, watching proud, annoyed, cheerful faces of my academy group mates.

 The annual spring tournament between the students of the academy was a tradition and an occasion for the residents and the guests of the capital to have fun, as well as to earn extra money by betting on the tournament participants. The tasks were not that difficult for a combat mage-student: throwing fireballs, piercing several targets with lightning or fast water jet, and some other basic tasks. Lightning and water were best dealt with by the 'naturalists' as we informally called students who were good at nature powers. But the most spectacular event, for all those who were invited with honors or bought an expensive ticket to the tournament, was sword fights between students with the use of magical amplifications. It has always been very spectacular. Sometimes students agreed among themselves and staged the whole scene with illusory blood and severed limbs, enjoying the gasps of the crowd and the view of fainting noble ladies. It was so hilarious when the 'victims' of the battle after their mortal wounds would came an hour later to drink beer in a capital tavern and have some fun in a company of young ladies. Of course, for most students, this competition is a serious chance to prove themselves, get extra points in the practical exam at the beginning of the summer, and, undoubtedly, get a permanent job in a noble family, whose members are always headhunting potential magical workers for their homes looking just like hawks from the high stands at their employees-to-be.

 The crowd did not know that I am a woman. Women rarely became battle mages. My hair was pulled into a tight knot at the back of my head (as many male students did), my female forms were hidden by black magic armor made of a particularly durable heat-resistant material that consisted of an upper vest and stripes-plates on trousers, my neck was also covered with a material resembling a turtleneck. I had no helmet. I got rid of it during the battle: it blocked my entire view.

 The girls started throwing flowers to me from the stands. I caught a bouquet by accident. My cheeks flushed. Several guys from my student group laughed out loud watching their friend embarrassed by the young ladies’ attention, but they immediately fell silent when I cast my glance at them. Suddenly we all understood what awaited me: the prize was not only to advertise my perfect abilities to everyone, but it was also a material reward. A box of gold coins from the academy's top benefactors and a kiss from their only daughter whose beauty has long been rumored throughout Woodland.

 I did not know that I would make it to the final, moreover, I didn’t definitely picture my victory. I sincerely wanted to have fun during the tournament with my friends and laugh at those bores who were serious about completing tasks, that’s why I totally forgot about special prizes. Each of the male students wanted to be in my place: honor, recognition of his strength, and a trophy kiss from a noble damsel. 

She was already there on the pedestal. My mouth was dry, my legs became heavy, although, only a couple of minutes ago I was ready to kill a basilisk or a swamp kikimora. This damsel in blue will certainly laugh at me or she could get embarrassed and uncomfortable. I don't want to make her look bad in front of the spectators. Should I leave now, turn around and run to the academy hostel like a scared child?

Crow!  Crow!  Crow!

Those who backed a dark horse, nicknamed Crow, won the pot!

 Crow!  Crow!  Crow!

 A soft blue dress with a corset embroidered with diamonds made her look like an elfia. Her long, coil, fair, almost white hair flowed over her shoulders and breasts creating an airy divine feeling. The silver hair net shone like a halo of the goddess herself.

 Never in my life have I seen such a beautiful young woman. I stood next to her, afraid to move. She was shorter than I, but her noble birth and kinship with the queen elevated her.

 I felt how embarrassed she was: she was afraid to look up at me, “Oh, noble sorcerer, kneel down to accept my kiss.”

 I felt with my back that all the students, teachers, and the rector of the academy froze. I couldn't move, but finally she overcame her fear and looked at me. I was ready to sink into the ground: I’ve always been tall, athletic, and flexible, but I had enough femininity in my face and body. From afar, in armor, I could be mistaken for a young man, but not at such a close distance.

 To my surprise, her finest features relaxed into a shy smile. Her eyes were like two blue stars that I could look at forever. My legs gave way, and I obediently fell on my knees in front of her. Enchanted and fascinated I was looking at her eyes, then at her moist pink lips that were slowly approaching my mouth.

 My body was flushed from the ordeal and the final battle; I must have smelled of sweat or mara's blood, but she, showing no disgust or arrogance, was gently scooping my face in her soft hands without breaking the kiss. Some people were hooting because of excitement; some people were making ‘awww’ sounds, but the rest of the spectaculars continued chanting my nickname while I was drowning in the proximity of her body and my first kiss.

 "Witch, witch, wake up!" a hand touches my shoulder gently but persistently.

 “Did I fall asleep?” I ask in a sleepy voice, pierced with the bitterness of reality.

 Svartalf's face hovers over me, “I doubtlessly feel that someone has found a portal to the mountain and broken through its magical barrier. We are being followed.”