Tellic walked his rounds through the crisp night air. The scent of snow lingered, a promise of the harsh winter ahead. The cold bit at his exposed skin, and despite years of service, he hadn’t yet gotten used to it. Nights like this made him question everything—his reasons for staying in the military, his decision to leave his home, his drive for citizenship. He'd been a soldier for four years now, and if he could make it to ten, he’d finally be granted the status of a citizen, something few trolls ever achieved. But each time he encountered someone like Lanni, someone who flinched at the sight of him, those dreams felt just out of reach. Lanni had been terrified of him that morning. The look of panic in her eyes, the way she had pulled away—it stung. People feared trolls, and not without reason. But Tellic wanted to change that. He wanted to prove that trolls were more than just their strength or their past. He dreamed of building a bridge between his people and the other races, to erase the fear, the judgment. Yet each time someone recoiled from him, it chipped away at his resolve. He could have gone home, lived among his own kind where he wouldn’t have to deal with suspicion or fear. But how could he create change if he ran away? Citizenship would give him a voice, and with that voice, he could start to break down the barriers between trolls and the other races. So, he stayed, enduring the cold, the isolation, and the worst assignments—like being on patrol outside all night, through a winter that promised to be brutal. He flexed his hands, the chill seeping through his gloves. He’d need better ones soon if he wanted to avoid frostbite. "Tellic," a voice called out behind him, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to see Lanni approaching, clutching something in her hands. His initial surprise gave way to curiosity. “I wanted to apologize for this morning,” she said, holding out a wineskin. Her voice was steady, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. Tellic shook his head, unsure what to make of the gesture. “I shouldn’t,” he muttered. Trolls were known for their resistance to alcohol, but drinking anything alcoholic while on duty was frowned upon. “It’s not alcohol,” she assured him quickly. Still, he hesitated. Lanni’s expression tightened, and she muttered something in trollish that caught him off guard. “Shamtamin.” The word meant "coward," a sharp rebuke in his native tongue. Without missing a beat, she raised the wineskin to her own lips and took a sip. “I didn’t poison it.” The use of trollish, especially from a human, threw him off. With a begrudging nod, Tellic accepted the wineskin and took a cautious sip. Instantly, he almost spit it out, but not because it was bad. “Lanish? And it’s hot!” He took another, longer drink, the warmth spreading through him. Lanni smiled slightly. “A peace offering. I figured you haven’t had decent Lanish since enlisting. Most humans don’t know how to make it properly.” He was impressed. “I haven’t had Lanish this good since I left Lerjao. How did you…?” “It took me a long time to learn how to make it right.” She gestured for him to hand back the wineskin, and after a moment of hesitation, he did. Sharing food and drink among trolls was a sign of trust—a custom deeply ingrained in their culture. Did she know what that meant? “It’s better with whiskey,” Lanni admitted, taking another sip before handing it back, “but you’re on duty.” Tellic raised an eyebrow. “Most humans can’t even stand the taste of it, even if it’s made right.” “I developed a taste for it while I was in Lerjao,” she said, her tone more neutral now, as if trying not to make it sound like a big deal. “You were in Lerjao?” His surprise was evident. Few humans traveled to his homeland, and even fewer lived there. Someone as small and unassuming as Lanni certainly didn’t seem like the type who would have fit in with the rough, stoic people of Lerjao. “Not by choice,” she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. “I was captured when I was ten. I was held there until I was almost fourteen.” Tellic felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. He knew about the old ways, the rogue bands that still clung to the past. It was a shame his people were still associated with them. “Who were they? It took us a long time to move past the old ways. We won’t go back. If anyone still…” “They’re dead. All of them.” Lanni’s tone was flat, but her eyes were hard. “It was a long time ago. It took me a while to recover, but I thought I was better than I apparently am. I haven’t been around trolls much since then. My reaction this morning was... inappropriate. I’m sorry for that.” Tellic shook his head. “It’s understandable, given what happened.” “No, it’s not,” Lanni insisted. “You’re not your people. You shouldn’t be judged for someone else’s actions. Even if you do look like them.” Tellic gave a small nod. “True. But it’s still understandable. Perhaps we can get along.” “Maybe even become friends,” Lanni offered, a hint of a smile returning. “Perhaps,” Tellic agreed, though a part of him wondered if that was truly possible. “How did you escape?” Lanni shook her head. “Another time, maybe. If you want your mid-shift snack, I need to get busy. I’m behind.” Tellic glanced at her, then nodded. “Thank you for the Lanish. I’ll be sure to stop by before my shift each night.” Lanni smiled. “I’ll have more waiting for you.” As she disappeared into the night, Tellic took another sip of the hot drink. The warmth spread through his body, helping to stave off the chill. He couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would be different here. Maybe he'd find some understanding, even in the unlikeliest places. #fantasy, #magic, #dragons, #hiddenlands