• ...Seeelma. That will do for now."
    ----------------
    The baby squalled, interrupting Selma’s musing. She bustled over to the hammock and picked the little girl up, cooing softly. The baby quieted, her plump lower lip trembling as she rocked back and forth in Selma’s arms.

    “There there, you’re alright. I’ll bet you want food, don’t you? You’re mother, rest her soul, didn’t have a chance to feed you, did she?” Shaking her head, Selma cradled the girl in one arm, leaving the other free. With the free hand she gestured in the dust-filled air. Her finger traced swirls in the shape of letters, letters with spirals, tails and intricacies such as no spoken language has ever used. A shape began to appear in the space where her fingers trailed, something that looked vaguely like a mug or a bowl. Selma reached out and carefully grasped edge of the image. The mug, for it was a mug, popped into existence at her touch with a swiftness that seemed wrong without a sound to accompany it. The quick solidifying of what had once been simply dust required something to signify its’ presence, a crack or snap of some kind, yet the room remained silent but for the breathing of Selma and Ren.

    “Ah, there we are. A mug of warm vegetable broth for the babe, for you are part-elf, unless I am much mistaken, and do not required the things human babes need.” Selma sagged from the effort of summoning the broth, for she was old and had little strength, even for such a simple task. With a soft sigh, she traipsed out of the small bedroom, for she had forgotten to summon a spoon. With Ren cradled in one arm, and the broth clutched in the other, she walked slowly back through the cavern to an archway on the far side, across from the door to the bedroom. It was just next to the trapdoor that led to the outside. Through the archway lay a kitchen-like room, with a bubbling stream that served as a sink, a fire with a bed full of red-hot coals and rough wooden cabinets in one corner. In the center stood a square, oaken table, surrounded by four chairs.

    Selma shuffled over to the table and set the broth down on its pockmarked surface, mumbling to herself as she went.

    “Not as young as I used to be, that’s for sure. This forest air is good for the body but even it can’t work miracles. Just a human, that’s me, destined to live a short, emotional life, no matter where I reside. But you, my little Ren, are another story. You aren’t full elf, no, and if you didn’t have those pointy ears some might mistake you for full human.”

    Selma opened the doors of the wooden cabinet, grabbed a copper spoon and returned to the table, still musing over Ren’s peculiar heritage.
    “But from what I have read of hybrids such as yourself, I’ve learned that you have the ability to live as long as the elves, with all the strength of the humans. A powerful, yet dangerous, combination. Human spirit and elf spirit were never meant to coexist, so I’ll bet you’ll have quite the personality when you grow up.”

    Ren’s eyelids fluttered, and her mouth opened as she sucked in air for a shriek. Before she could, Selma placed the tip of her finger inside Ren’s mouth, and gently dribbled a spoonful of the lukewarm broth down the side. Ren relaxed, sucking quietly on the wrinkled finger. Selma continued to dribbled the broth down her finger, until Ren released her hold with a soft pop.

    “Mmm. There you are dear. Feeling better with some food in your tummy?”

    Selma drew her finger away, set down the broth and shambled back into the dusty bedroom.