Page 1 of They Call Me Blue

“All elgrew possess an intrinsic desire to consume elves. Born twisted and deformed, they steal our faces and wear our bones so they can look beautiful like us.”

—Seris of Darkmarsh, Chieftain of the A'sow Tribe.

T he stench of charred flesh and burning hair permeates my nostrils.

Nose crinkling, I roll in my hammock, somewhere between dream and sleep as heat and smoke congest the air around me.

Crust fuses my eyelids shut, slows my reflexes, when I hear a deep, bellowing scream and finally come to, snapping upright.

Dark gray smoke billows high into the rainforest’s canopy, consuming orange leaves and knotted vines, blotting out the surrounding trees and sunlight.

More than fifty feet below me, monsters throw torches onto the sprawling root system, shrieking a sharp battle cry that sends shivers down my spine— elgrew —not just one, but an entire hunting party.

From here, they almost look like us. Their lithe bodies are tall and gray, with sharp-angled faces and pointed eartips.

But up close, their eyes glow violet and their teeth form sharp points.

Silver threads hold their beautiful bodies together, forming a near-invisible patchwork of elven skin.

Those threads shine in the heat of the fire, giving them away.

Heart pounding, I instinctively reach for the go-bag that dangles on the tree branch above me.

Then, I wipe the crust from my eyes, tighten my leather breastwrap, and climb—not down toward the flames, which is exactly what the elgrew want, but up toward my baby sister, to the tippy top of the canopy where jumping from limb to limb and swinging from vine to vine gives us the best chance at escape.

The second I touch the tree, my slender blue fingers flatten, turning bulbous at the tips.

The folds on my fingerpads—my lamellae—thicken and spread, becoming tacky the longer I flex and retract them.

Keeping them flexed, I climb the tree like a lizard might, like the elgrew can’t, my sights set on the little black hammock so far up, it looks more like a small animal than a refuge.

Get to Nirissa.

Keep her safe.

My goals are singularly focused. This isn’t the first time the elgrew have found us, and I know what comes next.

The anguished screams of my tribe pierce the falling canopy, driving me to move faster, smarter. If the elgrew catch Nirissa, they’ll eat her. If they catch me, they’ll do much worse.

Long blue hair falls over my face, into my eyes and mouth.

Spitting it out, I force my exhausted limbs higher, until the dark green sky bleeds through the dense leaves.

The smoke turns my vision hazy and my breathing ragged.

Coughing up lungfuls of the nasty stuff, I peer over my shoulders into foggy thickness.

My parents’ tree is somewhere over there, but I’m not dumb enough to think all four of us will make it out tonight.

Out of six brothers, an aunt, and two uncles, we’re all that’s left.

I try not to think about that as I ascend.

By the time I reach Nirissa, she’s already sitting upright, go-bag in one hand, a little doll made from twigs and leaves in the other. Her silver hair is tucked into a braid, and her pointed ears twitch as she peers around me, searching for Mom and Dad. I shake my head before she even asks.

“It’s just me,” I croak, voice hoarse from the wretched smoke and the tears brewing in my eyes. “We have to go, bug. Climb on my back.”

She doesn’t fight me. This is the third time in two years.

Wordlessly, Nirissa wraps her arms around my neck, and her twiggy doll digs into my skin. It’s difficult to carry her. Even at sixteen, I’m barely taller than her, and my muscles strain under the weight. But I force myself to keep going.

A loud boom sounds to our left. A section of canopy disappears as the tree beside us snaps in half, tumbling to the forest floor.

I gulp, knowing better than to look down, but am unable to resist. Elf blood stains the leafy ground silver.

Lifeless, gray bodies sprawl out below me—our chieftain, our doctor, our .

. . I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. Our mother.

“Don’t look, bug. Promise you’ll keep your eyes shut until I tell you.”

My veins turn icy, terror freezing me in place as a male elgrew approaches the pile of dead bodies.

His flesh isn’t like the others. It’s lumpy and purple, twisted and mangled and deformed .

The man limps on a leg half as long as the other, slow in his approach, obviously in no hurry to reach his prey.

Hung over his neck is a black apron covered in silver splatters and violet guts.

Tied around his waist is a toolbelt of knives and bone saws.

They brought Butchers.

The elgrew withdraws a cleaver from his belt and bends over our mother.

My muscles tense. My breathing stops.

He swings the cleaver at my mother’s arm, and an anguished scream rips through the blazing sky as her biceps severs clean in half.

She’s still alive.

Sour bile bubbles up my throat, but I swallow it down and wipe my eyes.

I can’t save her. There are too many of them, I’m too noticeable, and with Nirissa on my back, it’s too risky.

My sister’s warm tears spill onto my shoulder, and I can’t tell if she’s crying because she disobeyed me and saw what they’re doing or because she doesn’t want to lose everything again. I’m too scared to ask.

Steeling myself, I crawl up the tree until we reach the top, where a sea of orange leaves span for a hundred miles before reaching the Korring-Marr —a Great Tree as tall and as wide as a mountain, made from orange leaves with bark as dark as obsidian.

The dawning sun turns the green sky patchy—dark in some places, light in others, ugly all the same.

Like with all elves, the Korring-Marr calls to me, though I can’t explain why. It’s a soundless music. A soothing lullaby. It’s also the elgrews’ stronghold.

Around the Great Tree’s base is a sprawling metropolis made of beautiful stonework that’s painted silver with our blood. The longer I stare at it, the harder it is to look anywhere else. Calm overtakes me as wind whips through the leaves and golden sap oozes down its trunk.

The need to touch it pulls at every fiber of my being.

“Arri?” Bug’s voice snaps me out of the trance.

I shake my head to clear it, turning south instead.

We need to get out of here. We’re running out of time. Soon, every escape route will be ablaze and I’ll have no choice but to descend. Damn if I’ll let that happen—not with Nirissa to protect.

I take a deep breath before jumping to the nearest tree, then the next one, and the next, extending my arms as far as I can so my lamellae catch and stick to the bark.

“Hey, she’s up there!” one of the elgrew calls. “Blue’s getting away.”

The name sends a fresh wave of nausea curling in my gut.

The elgrew don’t give us names; they give us labels, and that’s mine.

The only blue elf in existence and one of the reasons the elgrew keep finding us.

The scent of kerosene invades my nostrils, and the heat of the flames comes next, slithering up the tree until it hisses and pops and my feet are burning.

Crack!

Crunch!

Boom!

The five trees surrounding me collapse. I have nowhere to go. The jump is too far. The fires are too thick. I’ll never make it.

Panic blooms in my chest as I scan the canopy for a better solution.

“Come down, Blue,” another taunts, switching from their native tongue to Elvish, ensuring I can understand him. I understand him all too well. “We’ll be sweet to you. You’ll make a fine pet.”

I swallow, my eyes latching onto a slimy, moss-riddled vine beside me. Giving it a tentative tug, I flex my fingers, spread my lamellae, and then curl it tightly in both fists.

It’s not long enough, the nagging voice in my head whispers. It’s not strong enough. You’ll die.

“Arri?” Nirissa’s voice trembles.

It has to be enough.

“Shhh. We’re going to be alright. Hold on.”

Emptying my mind, I pad backward on my feet, putting as much distance between the spine of the tree and the tip of the branch as I can. Two tree lengths, a one-hundred-foot drop, and a sea of fire are all that stand between us and freedom, and we’re going to make it.

Better dead than eaten.

Better dead than a slave.

I take a running start, and then I leap.