“You’ll be fine, love.”

Ethari, your husband, murmured reassuringly as he examined the bright pink plastic tag pierced through your ear.

You, an elf, had stumbled into a human animal trap and gotten yourself injured. The humans, surprisingly gentle, had taken you in, brushed out your tangled hair, tended to your wounds, and eventually released you back into the wild. You had been too dazed to resist, drugged just enough to keep you from lashing out.

But they’d tagged you—like livestock. The indignity of it burned hotter than the injury itself.

When you finally returned home, Ethari had doubled over laughing at the sight. It took him a while to compose himself before he promised to help you get it off.