Price Of Peace

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Less than a mile from the Rim, where the enclaves of Wind Clan elves were backed by virgin forest, one lone façade blazed in defiance. The red neon sign proclaimed fearlessly ESSIE’S ORIGINAL HOT DOG SHOP. A small blue sign stated firmly, HOME OF THE ‘O’ FRIES, WINGS AND BARBECUE, SUBS AND BEER. The door stood open, letting out a wave of hot perfume of grilled hot dogs, fried potatoes, melted cheese, and spilled beer. How it managed to serve this bounty of food while stranded on an alien planet, under siege during a war between two inhuman races, Olivia had no idea.

It was, however, a welcome human refuge. She paused just inside the door, blinking at the sudden unforgiving light of ancient halogen overheads. The busy cooks ignored her entrance, lifting baskets out of the cooking oil, turning hot dogs, and delivering up paper-lined baskets while chanting out filled orders.

Olivia pushed her way into the crowd waiting for their food, beers in hand. The day had been a blur and her stomach was clenching up into a tight knot that lately was followed with vomiting. She was vaguely aware of the wave of silence and widening eyes.

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