"Let's go back." Tilan brushed Ores's bangs, her fingers touching her forehead.
"Ugh." Ores held her head with both hands, slowly stood up, then lifted her skirt and walked ahead, slightly hopping as she descended the mountain wall. It was evident that her innate agility made it difficult for her to stumble even on the complex and steep cliff.
"Elves really have unique talents." Tilan remarked slightly, comparing elves to humans—they are indeed a very special species, despite most of their genes being the same.
Regarding the newborn races themselves, Tilan didn't have any particular aversion, only that the birth of many newborn races was tragic, not created as vibrant life but as tools, and this tool-like nature fueled the era's darkness and chaos.
Back in the cove, Tilan had dinner with the villagers, and then it was time for the evening stories. The moose leader sat by the campfire, telling everyone about past events and interesting tales of this land.
