Stolen Lives: A LitRPG/GameLit Novel (The Underhill Chronicles Book 1) by Keith Ahrens (books for 8th graders .txt) 📗

ponder on my follies. I agreed to help you out of a lack of choices. I decided to take you here for my own reasons. Reasons that don't seem very good anymore the closer we get.”

“What are you expecting will happen? Is this gonna be a 'return of the prodigal son' kind of situation, or 'let’s run fast before they catch us' kind of a situation?” Olivia asks, concerned.

If we came this far just to get thrown out, I’m going to be pretty pissed off. It’s also gonna make the next few weeks for Acri a hell of a lot tougher.

“I truly don't know. The tribal clans up here have strict rules on how to treat visitors. They can be very gracious and generous to strangers. Family is treated differently. I suggest we continue as we have been. Present me as your prisoner and request sanctuary. I think that is your best chance.”

“Well, no other options have suddenly popped up, so I guess we're going to have to continue to trust you. But I promise you this, Elf, if they attack us, I'll make sure you die first,” Olivia says.

“That probably won't be necessary, Human,” a new voice cuts in. We all turn to look; the voice had come from the trees behind Acri. A thin figure of medium height stands up from a snowdrift. He’s swathed in white furs and carries a carved staff in his left hand. Small stones and feathers dangle from the top of his staff by thin leather thongs.

He pulls his hood back, revealing silver hair and gracefully pointed ears. His hair is half bound by braids and threaded through with dark-colored ribbons and semi-precious stones. He smiles warmly at us.

“I believe you four have seen enough bloodshed and violence for now.”

Without turning to face the newcomer, Acri lets out a miserable sigh. “Hello, Uncle.”

“Greetings to you, Acri. We have patiently awaited your return.” He then addresses the rest of us, “I am Karhut Grainleaf, and you are all welcome here. It is no matter that young Acri is your prisoner; I have little doubt that he may deserve it, though we may have to have a discussion about it later. For now, we are happy the fates have returned him to us.” He gestures at the handcuffs with a small frown. “Perhaps you can unchain my nephew? I assure you, there will be no more violence visited upon you if you offer none yourselves. My hunters and I have been trailing you for nigh an hour. We've had ample opportunity to kill you if we had wished to,” the elf says with a small smile.

“Uh, I'd love to, but the cuffs didn't come with a key” Olivia replies with an embarrassed grin.

“We accept your hospitality, good Elf, and thank you,” I say with a small bow. “My friend here is a blacksmith, perhaps he can remove the chains with some proper equipment,” I say as I gesture to Thirax.

“Then let’s be off to a warm fire and some shelter. I am sure we can find a forge still burning at our village.” He casually turns his back on us and takes the lead, walking lightly atop the deep snow.

We follow Acri's uncle for a few more miles, but never catch a glimpse of his 'hunters.' I have no doubt they are out there, though. Karhut Grainleaf seems well at ease with a group of armed strangers at his back, so either he has decided we aren’t much of a threat or his men have us covered. Probably both.

He keeps up a steady stream of chatter in his slow, quiet manner. He's the chief of the Grainleaf clan, named for the type of plant they grow in the mountains in the spring. His elves are also excellent hunters and trackers, according to him.

“I thought elves were vegetarians?” Thinking about the time I insulted Thorn.

“Ha, ha, no, no, no, only the 'civilized' ones are. The rest of us 'savages' still make do as hunters living with the land,” Karhut replies with amusement. “Though, it remains to be seen if young Acri here can still tolerate a hearty meal.”

Acri stays silent and walks with his head down. He hasn't said anything since he greeted his uncle.

“How soon until we reach your village?” Olivia inquires politely.

“Oh, about five minutes ago. Like I told you, we live with the land.” He stops and gestures around with an open hand and his staff.

I look closely at the area around us. The human brain is hardwired to notice patterns, but I see none here. Just irregularly shaped hills and thick-boled redwood trees growing close together. Then slowly, I start to notice light tracks in the packed snow. I follow them around one of the small hills, and to my surprise, I stumble across a doorway set into the hillside. Thick roots curve up and over to form the arch of the door. Thick furs cover the opening. All the colors blend together and camouflage the home. I don't think I would've seen it if I hadn't been specifically looking.

Oliva comes to stand beside me. “Look up,” she says quietly and points. About twenty feet above us, I see another hole in the trunk of a massive redwood is also covered in a brown fur hide, well-hidden in the shadows.

“Where are all your people?” I ask Karhut.

“They are content to just watch you for now. They may introduce themselves in time... after they've made their own judgments of you.”

He leads us on for a few more minutes until we reach another hill at the base of a redwood. “This is our guest quarters. It is somewhat removed from the rest of our village but close enough that you will be safe. There will be some firewood already stocked inside, but it is up to you to gather more and situate the home as you need it. Up here in the mountains, everyone must work for themselves. There are no handouts.