The scream lingered in the air, sharp and unnerving. Emma hesitated, her heart pounding. She glanced at the dark carriage across the street, shadows spilling over its ornate frame in the sunset's warm glow.

“This isn’t my problem,” Emma muttered under her breath, turning slightly away. Yet, the words felt hollow. Her thoughts raced. Is this how humans behave? Aren’t they supposed to help each other in times of need? She recalled Derrick and Vivian—Her parents—always stepping in to aid their neighbors, no matter how small the task.

With a sigh, she turned back. The golden-orange hues of the setting sun painted the cobblestones as she rushed toward the carriage. The horses stamped nervously, their glossy black coats shimmering. As she neared, she saw the door swung open, and there on the ground was a young girl about her age, sitting in a crumpled heap.

Her white dress, delicate and finely embroidered, was smeared with dust. Strands of dull white hair clung to her flushed face, and her deep green eyes were wide with panic. Her pointed ears—a feature Emma instantly recognized from her books—marked her as an elf.

The girl sat there, breathing heavily, her hands trembling as she muttered, "Now how can I get back in the carriage? It’s such a disgrace if anyone sees me like this."

Emma stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. "Do you need a hand?"

The elf’s gaze darted to her, then quickly away as though embarrassed. After a pause, she muttered, "Yes, please."

Emma extended her hand, but paused. The girl’s legs seemed unnaturally thin and delicate, as if they bore no strength. Frowning, Emma asked, “Sorry if this seems rude, but... you can’t walk, can you?”

The elf’s gaze dropped to the ground, and she shook her head. “No, I can’t.”

“Where are you heading?” Emma pressed.

“Just a few blocks from here,” the girl replied. “It’s still a little far…”

Emma studied her for a moment. Despite the elf’s fragile appearance, there was an air of dignity about her, though now overshadowed by vulnerability. “Alright,” Emma said, her voice steady. She crouched down and turned her back toward the girl. “Get on. I’ll carry you.”

“What? Carry me where?” The elf’s voice rose, tinged with disbelief. “You can’t! You’re just as small as I am. Don’t try to do something beyond your limits!”

Emma’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “Try me,” she said simply, her tone laced with quiet confidence.

The elf hesitated, her green eyes searching Emma’s face for signs of doubt but finding none. “Before we go,” she said finally, “may I write a note for my driver? I don’t want him to think I’ve been kidnapped or something.”

Emma raised a brow. Kidnap? Really? she thought but nodded. “Sure. Where’s the paper and ink?”

“In the carriage,” the elf said. “First seat on the right.”

Emma approached the carriage, her curiosity momentarily piqued. Its interior was as lavish as she’d expected, with seats of finely polished leather that glowed faintly in the golden light. An ink pot rested in the corner of the first seat, and a stack of parchment lay neatly beside it. She grabbed them both and stepped out.

The elf took the items and quickly scrawled a note, her delicate handwriting flowing smoothly across the page. She handed it back to Emma.

“Gary, I found someone to help me get home. Don’t worry—I’ll be alright,” it read.

Emma returned to the carriage, carefully placing the note and ink back where she’d found them. Then she crouched once more in front of the elf. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The elf climbed onto Emma’s back hesitantly, her arms wrapping lightly around Emma’s shoulders. For a moment, Emma was surprised by how little she weighed, as if she were as fragile as she looked.

“Which way?” Emma asked.

“Straight, then left at the big oak tree,” the elf said softly.

Emma began walking, her boots crunching lightly against the cobblestones. The weight on her back was barely noticeable as she moved, the cool evening breeze brushing against her face. The village streets stretched out before them, bathed in the warm glow of the sunset. Lanterns hanging from wrought-iron posts began to flicker to life, casting soft pools of golden light.

The distant sounds of the Green Festival echoed faintly—laughter, music, and the clatter of market stalls. The air carried the faint scent of roasted nuts and freshly baked bread, mingling with the earthy aroma of the cobblestones and grass.

Emma’s gaze flickered to the sky, where the first stars began to twinkle against the deepening twilight.

"You're stronger than you look," the elf murmured after a while, her voice soft.

Emma smirked. "Told you."

As Emma carried her charge through the cobblestone paths on  the first day of the Green Festival. She couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of satisfaction. Helping someone... this really does feel human.