“In two days we will reach Roseville. By the way, I doubt that the village will pleasantly smell of roses. Here is the Tarra,” she points at the blue windy river line, “This river flows into the sea. I'm sure the local mermaids will help you,” says Svartalf, bending over the map she carefully placed on the fallen tree. Elfia is still pissed off about what a bad deal I made with Lodda.

 The mermaid turned out to be a surprisingly amazing companion. I always thought that mermaids are rather silly creatures (like all ladies who prefer men over women, and who can’t imagine their life without males). In quite a short time, Lodda has become my little blessing and escape from bad thoughts about Malva and Svartalf's ruthless words. She has been telling us marine tales about her tailed friends and their daughters of the water, about old jealous lovers and broken hearts. From early childhood, I adored stories in which men's hearts were broken and not vice versa.

 We have been walking for almost a whole day and have not yet met a single soul, but it’s surely wrong to complain! As our strategy and martial arts instructor used to say, “Descending better than ascending, like dagger in the boot shaft is better than a fiery pulsar.” Perhaps, we have been still under the protection of elven artifacts, since no one dare to attack us, only hellish crows keep on watching and following us.

 “Lodda, are you sure you can get to the sea by yourself?”

 “Witch, are you going to drag her all the way to the sea?” Svartalf is horrified. She drills me with her menacing, hoping to drill a hole in my head.

 “Say thanks that miss mermaid agreed to tell everything she knows about your beloved heir and his gang of elves. We already know for sure that they are heading east. A fool would not understand that they are going to the Sapphire Groves.”

 “Why doesn’t she tell us all the information now? What or who stops her? Ah?”

 “What if we don’t do our part of the deal and leave her in the middle of the forest far from the water?” I slyly look at elfia. I'm not mad at her anymore, but she shouldn't know about it. Now she feels guilty, and it's just perfect for me. Guilt is the best instrument of indirect manipulation.

 “Lady Crow,” starts Lodda. Hearing ‘lady’, Svartalf sniffs irritably, but she does not interrupt the mermaid. This swell thinks I shouldn't be called lady! I frown my black eyebrows, and we both are gazing into each other's faces. “Lady Crow,” repeats Lodda. "You are very kind to me. Maybe you can tell me how I can ever thank you?”

 We have a small halt. I'm sitting on the ground with a basilisk jacket underneath my bun; while the mermaid was seated on the wet mossy stump. Svartalf stomps around trying to do some camp chores. She is hot, and she has thrown off her sheepskin wearing only a light olive shirt. I often find myself watching her even when I don't want to.

 “You have done so much. You gave us information. Now we know that climbing the mountain was not for nothing, moreover, we know which direction to go to find Imor.”

 “I do what she needs, not you, but I want to thank you. You are different. You are strong as a man, but you are kind in contrast to them, and you are not angry with me as other earthy females.”

 “Do I really look like a man?” I chuckle. Do I really look that bad?

 “Not outwardly,” giggles Lodda, covering her heart-shaped lips. “I immediately felt some kind of hard power in you; although, your pants, jacket, and short messy hair also confused me a little from afar.”

 “You are not entirely fair with me, Lodda. Look at Svartalf, her hair is even shorter than mine, and she's also wearing pants.”

 “She's too soft. She's always a woman no matter what she wears. You carried me all the way in your arms and never once complained about being tired. She would also like to be in my place. That's the difference."

I take a quick look at elfia. She must react to her statement, but she is silent, burying her nose in the 'magic' backpack.

  “You are wrong, I say. Svartalf is very strong. She has saved me several times already,” I say. Whatever Svartalf tells me, I can't allow others to think she's weak.

 “You are wrong about something, too,” whispers Lodda.

 “What else am I wrong about?”

 “Stop talking,” grumbles elfia. I finally made a fire; we will bake potatoes in the coals. Stop chilling. This is not a picnic.”

 “I have been carrying the mermaid in my arms all the way. I deserve some rest.” I wink at Lodda.

 “No one forced you to carry her. If you knew all the information at the lake right away, you would go light.”

 “You know, pointy-eared, you are truly an elfia,” I say confidently, getting up from my old jacket. “You are as self-centered as all elves. You don't like creatures. For the sake of your goal, you are ready to leave the wounded mermaid in trouble.”

 “This mission is more important than her! Nothing would happen to her in this lake.  In the nearest village, I could send a quick message with a sparrow, and one of my friends would help her later..."

 “What generosity! By the time your friends got to the mountain, anything could have happened to the poor creature. What a minute... Do you really have friends?” I pretend to be very surprised, covering my mouth with my hand.

 “Please, don't fight over me. You can leave me here. I can wait until the forest keeper is interested in me. We usually help each other.”

 “And it's out of the question,” I say firmly. I place my hand confidently on her shoulder. “If necessary, I will drag you all the way to the sea.” I adjust the red shawl on her shoulder.