((Bunnies approved! Mild content warning))
Snow.
The woods simply shone with the fluffy white powder in the weak sunlight. It hung on the trees, tucked into crevices and layering the world in all it's splendid glory. Fenn’s cloak, his shirt, and even his hefty bag had been cast aside during the night; only his breeches remained on his person. The little Fae was curled up in utter bliss, using the snow as a nice blanket as he snoozed the morning hours away. Anyone else would have frozen to death in the wee hours of the morning, but not Fenn. To him, it felt so good out here, in the cold and the quiet, and he just couldn’t help but bask in it.
Fenn didn’t know why he hadn’t taken his wanderings to Salvar sooner. A place so thoroughly and eternally caked with cold and frosted with snow was perfect for him, he thought.
Footsteps crunched down the snow a little ways behind him. Sleepy as he was, Fenn barely made the effort to flick his ears in the direction of the noise. Probably, he surmised, just some humans passing through in their own travels. Yawning, Fenn stretched out in the snow and rolled over, ready to head back to sleep.
Rude, rowdy voices caused him to stir in annoyance and stick his head under the snow. Couldn’t those damn travelers be quieter? Actually, those voices were getting unnervingly close. So were the footsteps.
“What in freezin' 'ell is a lil' brat doin’ out here in all this snow?” a bawdy man shouted. Fenn gasped and jerked his head out of the snow as someone gave him a swift kick to the side. He never saw the attack coming. It hit hard, and Fenn swore he heard one of his ribs snapped. A sharp, stabbing pain burned into his side. He clutched the affronted area with a pained grimace and great surprise, just barely focused enough to listen to the conversation around him.
“Gabe, ya didn’t need ta do that,” someone else grumbled in protest. “It’s a kid.”
“Shaddup Thom. I’ll be decidin’ what I do an’ don’t need ta do,” replied someone with a rough, intimidating voice. Fenn knew that sort of tone; it was the voice of authority, of men used to pushing others around. “Wanted ta check n’ see if 'e was frozen n’ dead. 'Tis rather interesting that he ain't, don't ya think?”
One of the men leaned down to look at Fenn, who was closing his eyes to the sudden horror that was now his reality. “His face looks kinda funny too. Ain’t those elf ears?”
“No, ya dimwit!” another bandit called out, shoving his friend a little. “Elves die in the cold just like most folk, I reckon. 'E looks like a one of them snow faeries or whatnot.”
Gabe laughed. “There’s somethin' unusual. Search 'is stuff.”
The Fae cracked open an unearthly green eye and stared up at the man who spoke, and who had kicked him so. Eleven other men milled around him, several of them already going through Fenn’s belongings and his cast-off clothes. Anger bubbled under Fenn’s skin. Yet there was nothing for him to do but clutch his side and give an anguished look at the bandits as they tore through his belongings. Just breathing hurt, and for the life of him, he couldn’t force himself onto his feet or to cast a spell. Not that his weak magic would be much help anyway, he thought, slumping a little in defeat and fear.
Watching the men touch his things, his things, made Fenn want to scream. He weakly leaned away as one of them made to tie his hands up, but he couldn’t resist the strong hands grabbing for him, nor could he ignore the stabbing chest pain. “It’s all junk ‘n shit in 'is bag!” the bandit who had been leafing through the satchel shouted angrily to Gabe, lifting out a small sack of nuts and dried fruit. “Got some food in here, but everything else is junk.”
Gabe leaned down and took Fenn's chin in his hands, forcing the boy to stare into his cruel, compassionless gaze. The man’s hot, rank breath puffed in his face. “Take it anyway. Take all of 'is stuff. No reason to leave it behind fer anyone else to 'ave. Search the bag more later, after we get the wench ta fix 'im up. What’dya think a Fae’d sell fer? Definitely, it'd be a pretty penny.” Fenn trembled as the man let go. “Well, 'e ain’t gonna escape all 'urt like that, and 'e ain’t gonna walk either. Jack, carry him back with us.”
There was nothing he could do but disbelievingly close his eyes to the world as he was picked up and carried off with the marching band of bandits. The frustrated tears that leaked from under his lashes froze solid to his face. This was not how Fenn had imagined his morning would go.