Oh no you don't!

-Verden, Skeldergate Forest. Afternoon, 547 DBeforeTR-

Orla flew down out of the trees until she was just above the humans. There were three of them and they were on horseback. It was a bit dangerous riding in the forest with all the overhanging limbs and the treacherous roots underfoot, yet the steeds seemed to move surprisingly well through the rough terrain, a testament to their training. The rider in the lead she saw was a boyish young man who was quite fit like she would expect a professional fighting man to be. The way he was expensively dressed however showed that he was no common soldier or peasant, but a nobleman of some kind.

A slight scowl twisted her mouth at this. She didn't begrudge a fellow hunting to feed himself and his family, but this man with his rich clothes and servants was clearly not starving and was only killing for sport. As he brought his crossbow up and took aim at the tiring stag, quick words formed on Orla's lips and a powerful gust of wind gushed through the glade, causing the crossbow bolt to go astray and miss the deer.

She instantly realized what a foolish thing she had just done. In times of olde, when her kind were a frightful force to be reckoned with, humans could be tricked and toyed with at their leisure, but nowadays her clan preferred to maintain a very low profile so as not to bring attention to themselves lest King Asgurt find them out and drive them from the land, as had happened to the mages and fae and many other mystical folk in Verden in the last decade. Orla put her hand to her mouth, worried she'd possibly made a terrible mistake.