The injured elf's breathing was shallow and uneven. Snow clung to his eyelashes, and half his body was buried under a thin sheet of frost. Edward placed a hand against the wound on his side and felt the weak pulse flutter beneath his fingertips.
"Hey," Edward said softly. "Stay with us. Can you hear me?"
The elf's eyelids twitched. His lips parted, but only a faint rasp escaped.
Elarien knelt beside them, her face tight and pale. She had fought dwarves moments earlier without a second thought, but seeing one of her own bleeding like this struck deeper than any blade could. She reached out, brushed snow from the elf's cheek, and leaned close.
"Who did this?" she whispered.
The elf swallowed with effort, then forced out a broken word. "Dwarves…"
Edward and Elarien exchanged a look.
"More of them," Edward muttered. "On the surface too."
