My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 545

Chapter 545: One Cold Day

The wind blew heavy and frigid again.

As of late, the sun can be so easily discerned now... above was a view of clear blue skies between the gaps and cracks of countless naked branches.

Another cold breeze swayed the bare trees, the hefty torrent parting the last bundle of leaves from its stems, and they blew, flew, a lofty swirl of brown and gold gently plunging, nearing the soft earth below.

One of them suddenly strayed away from the pack, drifting elsewhere...

A leaf landed on her head.

Again.

Sera groaned.

.....

A little annoyed, a little vexed, she plucked the leaf nestled between strands of her hair, briefly stared at it with bitter disdain, before then aggressively flinging it away to one of the many small mounds of gold and brown scattered everywhere.

After one too many times already, she’d learned her lesson and quickly pulled her hood over her head once more.

Shame, the cold on her face had been nice while it lasted.

It reminded her of the Well.

Sera leaned back against the bark of the tree she rested upon, her amber eyes gazing attentively forward, resuming with her admiration for a newly discovered interest as of late.

Those shining, flashing lights.

Curled around the bodies of trees, hung across countless low-hanging branches – sparkling.

One day, while peering above the bushes with bleary eyes, she woke up to find her humble abode inexplicably transformed.

Everywhere – like webs.

At first, she was wary of them. Eventually, she grew captivated.

Especially when they glow.

She’s never seen anything like them before. Nothing even in her many conversations with Eshlwyn bore similarities to this.

Green, yellow, blue, red. In sporadic intervals. They’d dim then they’d glow. They’d flash then they’d shut. Very rarely, they even stay aglow at times.

She liked it when they stayed.

But not all was as well as the lights, unfortunately...

Out there, beyond the vicinity of the forest, it was no longer the quiet, mostly peaceful plains that she had grown so accustomed to wandering through.

As of late, the pathways had all become riddled with the constant comings and goings of many, many noisy strangers intruding upon her home without care.

She’d watch them through the bushes – men, women, children – strolling about the place, wrapped in heavy bundles of clothing, their misty breaths visible past smiling lips, as they frolic and indulge in the cold of the winds.

They all made a commotion across every waking moment of the day- and it bothered her to no end. The afternoons where she’d spent idling on the benches, staring awed at the looming building surrounding her, instead were now spent huddled beneath the nonexistent shade of a naked tree, brushing away stray leaves atop her head, preferring this solace over the company of mindless chatter.

At least she had the lights.

One of the mounds of leaves slowly began to stir, revealing a stray bit of white poking through, then quivering a little more – the single mound suddenly sprouted a tail.

A blur of fuzzy white suddenly lunged out from within, plopping gracefully on all fours atop Sera’s lap, before with a twirl, curled itself into a ball and began to snooze.

Mrs. White was this creature’s name, a Neplim, as she knew it. She had tried to give it a new moniker, one better fitting of the creature’s grandeur, but even the best names fell onto deaf ears, she wouldn’t listen... and so thus, to Sera’s dismay Mrs. White, stayed as Mrs. White.

A scream then echoed from a distance, perking white’s ears, diverting Sera’s gaze- a high-pitch squeal of a child seemingly creeping too close for their own good.

She could hear it, the rustling of bushes, the snap of broken twigs... close and closer as the jovial squeals grew louder.

Sera groaned again, annoyed. She stood up – Mrs. White hurriedly scurrying to a bush – flattening her violet furls, she shifted into a stance, trying to make her petite figure look just as imposing as one of the Gritlins.

But just as the squealing reached a boiling point – it ceased. Instead, louder rustling, louder steps began to emerge, stopping just beyond her sights.

Then, a voice.

“Ah, there’s my little girl!” A woman spoke, squealing just as merrily. “Didn’t I tell you! What did I say? You can’t hide from me at all!”

“You cheated!” The child giggled in response, squeaking loudly. “You only counted until nine! It’s ten, Mom! Ten! It doesn’t count! Again!”

“Again?” exclaimed the woman, laughing too. “Come now, Sarah...”

Sera?

She slowly crept closer, her cloak gliding inches above the dirt as her bare feet crinkled dead leaves with every step.

“But Mom...” The child called Sera said.

“Now, now, no ‘but’s,” said the woman. “We’ve agreed. Ten minutes and then we have to go, that’s the deal, Sarah, right?”

“I still want to play...”

“Next time,” the woman softly assured. “Hey... don’t forget! We still have shopping to do? Don’t you want to pick out the presents you want Santa to get you?”

“Presents!” the child squealed, elated again. “Okay! Mmm! Let’s go! Come on, Mom, let’s go!”

“Alright, alright...” chuckled the woman, before speaking again. “Oh, one of your slipper straps broke... not to worry, here... come closer... one, two... there we go, Sarah. Good girl.”

Sera had a found a tree to lurk and observe from, and tilting slightly left – she saw a tall, slender woman with a gentle face and soft eyes, slowly rising from the ground, and in her arms, she had clutched the frailest, smallest child that Sera ever saw... a loose violet scarf swaying loosely around her neck, to which the woman lovingly wrapped around her child.

A memory suddenly flashed inside Sera’s mind, a feeling, an emotion, a word...

Mother.

“I knew it,” whispered the woman, a smile peeking just slightly above the child’s head. “See? You’re shivering. Let’s get you in the car.”

The child only mustered a murmur, snuggling closer against her mother’s shoulder, before, at a slow, careful pace... the woman brought them both away, disappearing gradually between the trees.

Sera attempted to follow, and made it only ten paces, before she stopped herself.

She shouldn’t follow.

After all, she hated the noise, the commotion... everything.

Sera began to turn away, but as she did, she heard another noise, the slightest whisper, a weak murmur.

“I love you, Mom,” echoed a voice in the wind.

Then echoing back, in that same torrent, that same breeze, another voice drifted, swayed... falling and landing gently inside of her head.

And unfortunately, she couldn’t just brush it away.

“I love you too, Sarah.”