Khar'rith soon found himself in a rather large stable that appeared to be inhabited by many other animals of diverse sorts. A marketeer's stable, he thought. A few costumers walked by at intermittent times. They looked upon the faelan with awestruck eyes, a look that quickly faded to disappointment as they realized they could never afford such a beautiful and mysterious creature. This, of course, brought smug satisfaction to Khar'rith.
The rhythm of awed and disappointed customers became almost predictable to the faelan. He was ready almost to destroy the ridiculous stable and run, hoping to find cover in order to conceal himself. C onceal himself with that magical Art that all faelans are taught by their parents, who in turn learned it from theirs, who learned it from theirs, and so on, back to untraceable roots. Legend had it the Art was taught to the first created faelan by one of the gods themselves. But Khar'rith hated the gods, and so did all faelans he knew. No, not a god. It must have been one of the Fallen. The great and mighty Nethergods. The first faelan must have been created by one of them as his worthy steed, Khar'rith mused. In fact, it was once said that -
"That one, Mum! He's so pretty!" Khar'rith first shuddered about being described by such a detestable term. After he gathered himself, he finally assessed his situation. He was being picked for purchase. No matter - it was a small boy, barely ten winters. His parents were about to grab his hand and lead him away, saying "Maybe something else, sweetheart." But to the faelan's surprise, they did not.
"Are you sure, son? Yes, he is beautiful!" Khar'rith shuddered again. Please not them, he prayed to whatever force moved these disgusting people. They were dressed much better than any of the other humans he had seen. And they were clean, surprisingly clean. Rich, he thought. And therefore able to afford a market-priced faelan. But the stench of righteousness oozed from their pores.
The parents made their way to the market clerk, but the boy stayed behind. Khar'rith tried his best to pretend he didn't notice the boy standing there, staring up at him with that stupid smile.
"My dad said you're a faelan." Idiot child who would talk to an animal that wasn't even paying attention, much worse that was expected to not even understand human speech. With a bite of cold irony, Khar'rith realized he was, and could. Either the boy was incredibly stupid, or staggeringly intelligent. He was human, so it must be the former.
"I've heard stories about you. Um... your kind, I mean. I want to name you, since you're going to be mine now." Great, the faelan thought. Not another confounded human name. Horsey Worsey, he thought to himself, and chuckled at his own wit.
"I'll name you Khar'rith. I read about a faelan named that once."
Khar'rith stumbled visibly backward, and almost fell to the ground. The boy giggled. Yes! Yes, his name had been taken from the steed who assisted Galfalad, the greatest of human kings. It was a common name for a faelan, however. But still, he was awestruck. His heart began to warm to this boy, who had actually called him by his real name. But he suddenly noticed this warming, and quickly hardened his heart once again. Stupid human. Yes, stupid. That's what he was.
The parents returned. They led the faelan away out of the congestion of the inner city and up to the hills.
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