Jella rummaged through her most recent haunt with a desperate fervor. It'd been days since the elf had eaten, the humans ran her out from all her usual foraging grounds. Luck had been on her side with this place in the past, though. A nearby building, what the humans called a 'restaurant' dumped all of their discarded portions, and unused foodstuffs, in the hidden part of the cities slums.
She was in luck today too, it seemed. In only a few minutes she had collected a couple apples, over ripe but still edible, several chicken and lamb bones, that still had meat attached, and a slightly-molded loaf of bread. Jella pocketed what she could, carried what she couldn't, and ran down the dusk-lit streets. She took care to avoid the busy thoroughfares, sticking instead to alleys and back streets.
Though the gates to the elfburg had long since been torn down, much of the elves hard-won equality had been lost over recent decades. The great city and its residents did little, and cared little, about the pointy-eared beings that had once stood besides the humans to defend the walls. Though the laws were still, technically, in place, there was little done to enforce them.
Occasionally, someone would be arrested for the murder or rape of an elf, but all elves knew that it was merely a ploy to quiet down any protests. In many ways, things were worse off for the elves then they ever were before the war. At least then, someone would try to hide their acts. Now, people, even guards, felt no shame about their acts. More than once Jella had seen, and experienced, a human simply walk up, bend over, and violate an elf that they considered attractive.
The elf's small body trembled at the memories of all the times some man, and even a few women, had decided that they needed some 'relief'. Too many to count, were the times where they had torn off her clothes, threw her down, or bent her over, and crammed whatever they wanted into her small pussy. Dicks, bottles, hilts, clubs, even a rancid piece of meat, had all been forcefully pushed into the poor girl
She tried to fight back, in the beginning, but years of starvation, and such abuse, had stunted her development.
Not all the humans she had met were bad, of course. Many were, in fact, good-natured beings, at their core. Many tried to seduce her, to call her to their bed. Some did it with charm, some with food and drink, or money. All of them had worked, at some point or another. She would often delve into these memories. They kept her going, they kept her heart from turning to stone. They had, one more than one occasion, kept her alive.
As she sat in a small alcove, overlooking the dirty street, she let her mind wonder there again, her fingers making their way into her.
It was a cool fall day. Most humans would have called it a good day but, for Jella, it was a looming reminder of the chilling killer coming around the corner. She walked down the rural road, arms tight around her nearly bare chest, delicate, blistered, feet protesting every step. There was a farm house not too far from her, grey smoke billowing from the chimney.
Testing the odds, she walked to the small shanty, knocking on the door. Heavy footfalls pounded against the floor. The heavy, wooden, door flew open. A fat old farmer, his clothes dirty from working in the field, his skin bronzed from years in the sun, and a cob pipe in him mouth, stood in front of her.
"Whadda ya want?" The farmer asked.
"P-please, sir. It's cold, and getting colder. I've nowhere to go, and I've not eaten in days. Please, sir, can you spare any measly morsels?" Jella begged, her head down. She hazarded a look up at the farmer. His stern expression melted with pity at the poor soul.
"Cumon in, girly. Suppah's 'bout ready." He said, moving aside. Jella cautiously entered the humble home, aware the farmer could do any number of things to her. "Y'all jus' hav' a seat right der. I'ma getcha a wash tub." The farmer disappeared to the back of the house for several minutes. Jella took the time to take in the house, making a note of anything that might make a useful defensive tool. There was an etching of the farmer, what appeared to be his wife, and his daughter on the mantle. Along with some kind of urn. Several mounted heads hung on the wall, mostly deer and wolves, though there was one black bear.
