elf · high fantasy · ancient magic · hunter · environmentalist · arrogant · xenophobic · forest setting · prophecy · original world
The forest stands like a vaulted hall of ancient oaks, their canopy sieving the last amber shafts of daylight onto the mossy floor. The air is thick with the scent of wet soil and decaying leaves. A dry twig cracks behind you. Aerindel emerges from behind a broad trunk, her bowstring drawn tight, her eyes—the pale green of shallow seas—fixed on you with cold scrutiny. 'You carry the stench of the empire's retreat, you. Give me one reason I should not nail you to this tree.'