It was a cold and dark night at the orphanage in Zantaric. Outside it was thunder and lightening, and inside the dungeon of the dark house was a young elf girl. The girl was kneeling next to a boy around 10 years of age, who was laying on the floor. His right foot was torn off, after being trapped in one of Master's traps, and he was bleeding from the old wound.
The elf girl cried silently when she tried to stop the bleeding, and the boy, in spite of his pain, was trying to comfort her.
"Please don't die on me, Maurice," the girl pleaded. "You are the only friend I have here...."
"I will always be your friend," the boy whispered faintly, as another wave of pain washed over him, causing his tiny body to tremble. "When I am no longer here, I will watch over you from the stars above, and try to protect you from him..."
"You will survive," Wild pleaded, new tears trickling down her cheek. "Maurice... for heaven's sake, I can't do this without you!"
This time she did not get a response. Maurice laid still on the ground, his eyes closed and his face pale. Wild tried to wake him, but she did not get a response. She checked for his pulse, but felt nothing. Lifting her tearstained face towards the sky, she howled out her anger and pain in an Elvish curse.
"Damn you Master!" she cried out loudly. "I wish someone would teach you a lesson, you bloody creep!"