"It's beautiful," he said quietly and meant it.
Sarhita smiled, genuine pleasure lighting her features.
"My ancestors chose well. The Jaruna may seem small most of the year, but its source is deep underground springs that never fail. We've built our entire culture around this place—it's not just our home, it's our heart."
They entered the settlement through a natural gap in the rock formations and immediately drew attention.
Pale red-skinned elves emerged from dwellings and workshops, their liquid gold or polished amber eyes fixing on the newcomer with varying degrees of curiosity and suspicion.
All were tall—seven feet seemed the standard—and carried themselves with the unconscious grace of a people who'd never known anything but their own physical perfection.
Jorghan, at just over six feet with his mixed heritage, felt conspicuously short and different. His human-elf blood marked him as other, and he could read the assessment in every gaze that fell upon him.
