Ever since the day of my birth, on the blood moon, I've been trained in all manner of combat. So why in the nine hells am I now sitting in the tent of an elf!? Like a random elf citizen or something.

I glare at the elf sitting across from me. Hell, I've only heard horror stories about these bastards. Apparently these elves eat humans, torture the men and sell the woman to anyone willing to pay. I shift a bit trying to sit up only to get stopped by a burning pain in my torso. Damn it!

I drop back down. Gods damn it! If my mentor saw this, he'd freak the hell out. I'd never hear the end of that lecture. I mean, heroes don't fall. Heroes don't just... I don't know. Get captured and need the enemy to patch you up!

I sigh softly. It's been... Maybe two weeks. I'm still very badly injured, healing, but injured. I shift a bit, moving my legs to hang over the edge of the bed. Come on Rylee, you're humanities hero, you can stand.

With considerable effort, mostly trying to convince myself that I'll be fine. I push myself off the bed and almost immediately face plant onto the floor. A loud rattle sounding out and a few things falling to the floor.

"Fucking hell! Son of a bi-... That... fucking... hurt!"