2nd Day of Growfest, 565 CY

The Dockyards, Willip, Furyondy

The wagon rolled slowly onto the pier.

The driver kept the horses moving slowly. While he was in no mood to linger here any longer than necessary, he also did wish not to make any more noise than he had to. The wagon itself was newly built, the wheels moving quietly; a tribute to its construction. The boards that made up the pier, however, were old and warping with age and exposure, and they clattered as the vehicle and its draft team moved over them.

It was a cold, clear night. The driver had a black scarf wrapped around his lower face and neck and a leather cap on his head, but he still shivered occasionally. His threadbare hide jacket did little to keep out the chill.

Above him, the moons hung together in the sky. The silvery Luna was only half-full, but the aquamarine Celene was nearly full, missing only the barest silver of blue. They were so close together that the driver thought they looked like two giant eyes looking down at him, judging him.

Disapproving of his actions.

The driver didn't like that feeling. He glanced back over his shoulder. In the bed of the wagon were numerous large sacks containing freshly killed duck and geese carcasses. If someone from the night watch did see the driver and stop him, he would claim that he was making a late delivery to the merchant ship that was docked at the end of this pier. He knew that it was scheduled to leave in the morning, bound for Dyvers with its cargo of foodstuffs. No one was supposed to be on deck at this hour, but if there were, the driver would simply claim ignorance. A paperwork snafu had caused him to deliver his goods to the wrong ship, and he (a simple dockworker) would sort it all out in the morning.

Even if no one came by however, he had no intention of boarding the ship. And the only sack in the wagon that truly concerned him was the one stuffed underneath the others.

The one that was starting to wriggle again.

The driver frowned. The blue whinnis had apparently worn off. As he brought the horses to a halt about ten feet from the end of the pier, he sighed to himself. That wasn't going to make this task any easier.

The man dismounted and walked back to the wagon bed. He reached over and pulled the sack he was interested in upright. He hesitated a moment, and then, not really sure why, loosened the drawstring and pulled the sack down about a foot, exposing the elf's head.

Tadoa stared at the man absolutely no comprehension in his eyes. A rag had been stuffed into his mouth, and a gag tied over that. The child's nostrils flared, and his chest heaved with the difficulty of breathing.

"Sorry, kid," the man mumbled. "It's just business, ya know? I gotta make a living." With that, he hoisted the sack into his arms, and walked over to the very edge of the pier.

He suddenly whirled his head around. He thought he had heard a faint splash coming from the other side of the pier, by where the merchantman was docked. The man watched and waited, but there was no further sound. He looked down.

The water, black from both sewage and night, showed no ripples.

The driver took a deep breath and looked at the child in his arms one more time.

"Hope your god takes care of ya, kid," he said softly and heaved him out over the water as far as he could. The sack hit with a splash but did not sink immediately. Water rushed in, but the cloth just slipped down from around the limbless boy. The sack went under, but the elf's trunk bobbed around like a buoy.

The driver did not see this, however. He was already engaged in turning the horses around and heading off.

Tadoa was confused, but not upset. He was sure that death was near, and that thought gave him some comfort. He hated everyone and everything that life contained, except its ending. He hoped that a giant snake would arise from the depths and swallow him. That would be the most wondrous way to die, but he would be content with drowning. He struggled to spit out the gag, but it was tied fast.

He did, however, slowly slip beneath the surface.

A hollow, pounding noise filled the child's ears. Even with his elven eyes, it was hard to see, but he was adrift in a cold, blue void. There was garbage and muck all around, but Tad could make out a dark shadow far off, moving slowly towards him.

Snake? He wondered, hoping.

Hello, pretty morsel.

Tadoa did not recognize the voice in his head, but he watched keenly as the dark shape grew nearer. Two red eyes gleamed wickedly at him from a long, narrow face. Dark fur covered the creature's body, which resembled a huge otter.

But wait. What is this?

The tone of the creature's "voice" shifted as it swam a slow circle around Tad, observing the elf.

Do they think so poorly of me that they feed me such scraps? A mere chunk of a child, without even a mind to hold fear?

This meant nothing to Tad. All he knew was that this stupid animal, which clearly wasn't a snake, wasn't eating him. He continued to try and spit out the gag, although he could feel the water all around him, trying to get into his nose, his ears, trying to find the opening where it could slip in and quench his life.

Something will have to be done about this. But for now, I hunger, and you must suffice.

The creature came straight at him.

At last. Tad closed his eyes in ecstasy, and waited.

Something grabbed him and despite himself, the boy opened his eyes again. What he saw was another elven face staring into his own. This face though, had greenish-silver skin and flowing hair the color of vibrant jade. Tad's own green eyes flashed his rage and he writhed in the other elf's grasp, trying to escape, to bite him, anything to get free and catch the death that seemed to be so close and yet so elusive. Out of the corner of his eye, Tad saw the furry creature pull up short, less than ten feet away from them.

What? A trap?

Chic rushed at them both, but the elf extended a webbed hand towards the beast. There were blinding flashes of light, and Tad could feel a thunderous boom. As the last of his oxygen left him, the child finally managed to lift the gag just enough to swallow water.

Take me, Merrshaulk was his last thought as the blue sea turned to black.