Sanctuary

[Iszela]

[This is one of many tales of a previous character I had for quite some time.  Nuannah is a Wild Elf.]

"Rats!"

Nuannah urged the dragonflight on, the beast galloping along the bottom of the mountain range as she scanned quickly and nervously for cover. The snow was falling quicker and heavier now, her visibility much less than it was not ten minutes prior. Had she felt the confidence to fly blindly into the snowstorm she would have lifted to the skies, but as she could barely see much more than twenty feet ahead, she opted to find shelter to wait out the storm.

Stopping and galloping... Stopping and galloping. Dark silhouettes in the dark mountain fooled her senses, many looking like caves or, worse yet, like the barbarians that resided in the region. More than once did she encounter the illusion of the latter.

A click of her tongue and the dragonslight picked up speed as she tried to contain her want to panic. Suddenly, her right ear picked up a change in the density of the rock and her entire right side felt a void.

"Eeya!" she cried, the lumbering beast halting abruptly in the thick snow as she guided it back around. She approached slowly, her mind racing with what could be lurking inside. Though she halted for a spare moment, the image of freezing to death alone and her whereabouts unknown gave her the courage to enter the dark cave. What could possibly be here? A bear... a wolf? Or perhaps the risen? She had faced them before and she was not afraid. Well... not too much.

Nuannah made the best of what she could of the small supplies she had, using the dragonflight for warmth and using a small torch to dispel the darkness. As she calmed, the toils of the day began to seep into her bones and she began to drift to sleep.. glorious sleep! Her eyes blinked slowly, each raise of the lids lower than before until they both closed shut. Her mind relaxed, drifting lightly upon memories and thoughts of more pleasant ideas, things and people.

She was on that cusp.. that delicate fragile cusp of sleep and awake where the mind cannot decipher what is real and what is fantasy. Her ears picked up on delicate sounds. The snow falling... the dragonflight's slow, tired draws of breath... the sound of the wind whipping high overhead... the sound of an animal shuffling through the snow.

The latter drew the attention of her more awake self. In a soft whisper that seemed lazy but urgent, she felt the tug that something was amiss. Her drifting, sleepy mind responded with the logic that it was her husband.. coming to see if she was all right and take her home.   

Just as she was coming to terms that this was the truth, she heard the heavy footsteps enter the cave and the sound of metal clanking against the wall. She lit up like a rocket, sure she was dying of sheer fright as she snapped back to reality. Her head pounded as she gasped and looked toward the mouth of the cave. Whoever that was heard her and she heard a string of quick, panicked words flow from the mouth of the looming figure that she could not understand.

Rising quickly to her feet, she raised her hands, waving them at the person, "No! No!"

The small torch still burned and the figure drew closer, much to her horror. The light cast upon the figure, only to reveal a human man, his face one of surprise as he kept speaking quickly. The human tongue was not her specialty.  Though she could make out a few words he said, she could not piece them together well for a coherent statement.

Finally, a single word made sense, striking her like a revelation. She pointed to herself quickly, her eyes wide as she repeated the word in the human tongue as best as she could.

"Sang-zuery! Sang-zuery!" She pointed to the ground, then to herself, crying out the word again in question, watching his face for acknowledgment. He sighed with relief, bursting in nervous laughter as he nodded quickly, repeating the word to her once.

The two waited out the snow storm together in the temporary refuge of the cave. Come morning, both would nod and thank each other silently for the brief truce of their hate by tradition for the sake of survival.