"Now then. Do you hate me?"
She stood immaculate, clean, powerful. Her new leather armor was spotless, ruby earrings catching the light like a slap to the face, the scent of food and wine still clinging to her clothes.
In contrast, Rita was covered in blood, layered cuts both old and new, an arm that had once been broken and healed poorly by low-grade potions...
She looked up at Lightchaser with her remaining eye, red and raw, teeth clenched tight.
"Hate you to the bone."
"I like that answer," Lightchaser said, clearly amused. She bent down until her eyes were level with Rita's.
A month ago, this little one had eyes like a lost puppy.
Now? She looked like a young wolf who'd learned how to survive, how to hunt alone.
The elf stared directly into her eye and said, slowly and clearly:
"Anger and hatred don't require permission. They matter. Don't talk yourself out of them with some self-righteous, half-baked logic."
