Sunlight filtered through the towering canopy, forming bright shafts amid the crisscrossing branches and leaves, then scattering dappled patches across the forest path carpeted with fallen leaves. Some unidentified little beast suddenly darted out of the bushes, stirring up a series of faint rustling sounds.
A male Grey Elf, as short as a child and with short gray hair, emerged from the nearby undergrowth. He wore the brown short shirt commonly worn by Mosswood Forest residents, carried a thick cloth sack over his shoulder, and had herb-gathering tools hanging from his waist. Sunlight filtering through the woods fell into his gray eyes, giving them a faint gleam.
Amid a soft rustling, several other Grey Elves emerged from nearby bushes or paths. They gathered together and began examining the day's haul.
One Grey Elf companion came over to the short-haired man and said seemingly casually, "Rupert, I'm moving into the city tomorrow."
The short-haired Grey Elf's eyes widened in surprise. "Why?"
"Haven't you heard? The chieftain is calling on young and able tribespeople who want a new life to gather in the big cities," his companion explained. "We have a whole pile of orders for alchemical raw materials from the Cecil Empire. The scholars have established many large herb fields and distillation plants around the city. Work in the city is far more respectable than picking fruit and honey in the forest."
"...I heard, but I'm not going. I've lived in the woods for most of my life. I'm not used to the noisy atmosphere in the city."
"Knew you'd say that," another companion said as he came over and patted the short-haired Grey Elf on the shoulder. "We'll miss you—we'll come see you when we have time."
"You're all going too...?"
"We're all planning to try our luck. The chieftain