A wood elf stepped into view several paces off the path. Tall, a few heads taller than me, slender like a young tree, spindly arms and legs. Brown gray skin that blended with the bark of nearby trees.
“Hello,” I called out, “I am looking for someone to talk to.” It stared back with black unblinking eyes. I cupped my right hand over my ear, lowered it to waist high and turned it palm up flattening it as I did so. Its head twitched and it blinked once. I hoped my sign had read as I meant it to even if my form was a little messy.
Two more elves stepped out onto the path. “Hello,” I said again, “I am Elva Landwalker daughter of Rolinda Shaleclimber daughter of Feyla Jadeaxe. I wish only to talk.” I repeated the peace sign my aunt had taught me.
This is part of a small collection of stories set in a fantasy world that has fallen to a great evil.