Mossy, loamy, fresh, green. Leaves shuffled and dirt crunched on the path in the middle of the forest. The air filled her lungs as she crept along the underbrush beside the path. She could hear the man walking, but faintly, as if he had been trained to move silently.
Coming to an old oak tree to the side of the trail, she quickly scanned the branches with her sharp eyes. Yes, there were some overhanging the path. She launched herself up the side of the tree, gripping and pushing off with her claws until she came to the lowest branch over the path, about 5 or 6 meters up. Before she moved to the middle though- she knew her black and white fur would stick out like a sore thumb if she did- she lay on the branch close to the trunk, tail flicking and watched the trail.
A little while later, a man in a green and gray cloak came around the bend. That was when she stalked out to the middle of the branch and sat down, striped tail dangling below her. Had he looked up, the man would have seen the great striped cat before she landed lightly 10 meters in front of him, taking up most of the path. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the brawny, powerful build, massive jaws, and huge paws of the creature before him and unslung the longbow from his back.
Then the tiger spoke, keeping her stormy blue eyes fixed on his face beneath the hood, "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Her voice was light and soft, but it carried. It startled him so much that on reflex, he had nocked and drawn and arrow before he was aware of what he was doing. "Alright," she said, "If you really want to do it this way, I'll play along."
She saw the slight tension in his hand and dashed quickly to the right as he released. She figured she could then just pounce him, but when she looked up, he was already nocking a second arrow. She had underestimated his speed. He drew and fired and she dodged again.
This time, she used the built up energy from her landing to propel herself forward at a diagonal. She did the same thing, dodging arrows until she was in range of him, "Ignorant human," she said, leaping at him in between arrows. She saw the fear in his eyes; he thought he was going to die. She knew that if she were to land on him in this form, she would crush him and he really would die, but that was not her goal.
Mid-leap she shifted to her other form and slammed into him, knocking him over onto his back. His longbow bounced out of his hand when she pinned him down. Straddling him on her knees, her weight went to holding his biceps down. She tried hard not to notice how solid they were.
He just looked at her, eyes wide, mouth open, like he had never seen a druid before. "Stop gawking and close your mouth," she said, "I did warn you not to do that." Her voice was the same; it was just a prettier face.
"Um," he swallowed, "what just happened? Were you the big cat?"
She sighed. "Yes I was the cat. Now I am not. Anymore questions?"
"What are you?" his voice shook slightly, "Are you going to eat me?" his eyes were wide with shock.
A shudder passed through her and she looked away in disgust, "That is barbaric. I would never do such a thing, I don't even eat meat." She received a puzzled look. "As for what I am, I am an Elvin Druid of Shadow."
"A what?" he was thoroughly confused now.
They both heard footsteps at the same time and whipped their heads toward the noise. There was a group of men, hunters making their way down the trail. She leaped up, grabbed his bow and dashed into the forest. He was close on her heals only because he wasn't going to leave his bow. He followed her to a copse of white oaks deeper in the forest then he would have liked to be.
"Okay, now what's this all about?" he was a little upset and a lot confused and he wanted answers.
She held out his bow and he took it, watching her carefully. "I am Astralania of the House of Sorcera. I am an Elf of Magic and I have chosen to direct my power in the way of the druid."
"Do you have a nickname?" he asked, trying to take the sight of her in. She was tall and thin with thick, snowy white hair. He had noticed that when she moved, he could see the black streaks hidden in it, but standing still, it was a curtain of frosty strands. Her features were delicate, with the exception of the small fangs she retained from her cat form, and her storm blue eyes had no pupil. She wore a kind of light, fitted armor that shimmered silver in the light and looked expertly crafted.
The corner of her mouth twitched, "You may call me Astrid." She motioned to the ground, "Sit, please."
As they sat, he took a moment to ask a question he had been forming since she introduced herself. "If you have a life with your own people, why are you here?" He was still a little dazed.
A look of intense sorrow came over Astrid's face. "My people are being slaughtered," She said faintly. "The other elves believe we hold too much power and they are afraid we will try to overthrow the Great Council. It has been genocide for years."
"The other elves? The Great Council?" he was genuinely interested but still confused.
"Allow me to explain." She cleared her throat, "There are seven species of elves: Blood, Sea, Night, Forest, Sun, Wind, and Magic. We each have our specialties and values and we look very different. The Blood Elves largely have blonde or red hair and light pink skin. They are the most human in their ways; you share many of the same attributes with them. They do not have magic, though they understand and respect beings that do. They are more of a warlike people and they have quick tempers. We, the Magic Elves, are their opposite. We do not like violence; we are beings of peace, intelligence, and true magic. All of the truly powerful oracles, seers, druids, and sorcerers come from among my people. The Night Elves are expert blacksmiths and spies; their violet skin and deep blue hair help them blend with the shadows. They make base armor and close quarter weapons and are the best hippogryph trainers of—"
"Wait, slow down. What are hippogryphs, and why are you telling me all of this?"
Astrid looked down at her hands in her lap, "We," she started, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe what she was saying, "As a people, the Elves of the Wind, the Sun, the Forest and of Magic beg for the help of your king. The Blood and Night Elves are waging war against us- we stand no chance unless we have aide."
The man thought these facts through before replying. "You said there were seven types of elves," he paused and she nodded. "Then wouldn't the odds be two to five against them?"
She smiled sadly, "It would seem so wouldn't it. Well, we cannot count on the Sea Elves- they retreated beneath the waves many centuries ago after we told them to stay in one world or the other. The Elves of Blood and Night make up about half of the total population- they each have ten to twelve houses. Us on the other hand, out of the four types of us left on land, each has between three and seven houses each."
"What are houses?" he asked, he was very close to going into information overload.
"Essentially they are the social standings- some are more prestigious and exclusive than others. For example, among my people there are only three houses: Sorcera, Magius, and Arcana. Arcana is the highest with those of noble blood and those who have mastered their craft. Magius is the middle with the masters and the apprentices who are already proficient in their chosen craft. It is also home to those with promise or talent in their field because it is rare to become an apprentice. Sorcera is the lowest, consisting of those who are undecided or are learning their trade. Each house has anywhere from seventy-five to two hundred elves at anytime."
"Then there aren't a lot of your people." Astrid shook her head at the statement, she was still looking at her hands. "I'm sorry but what can I do about all of this? You don't even know me."
Now she looked up into his face with eyes full of anguish and a glimmer of hope, "Gilan, King's Ranger of Whitby Fief," she spoke softly and slowly but Gilan started when she said his name. Astrid continued, "You can get me an audience with your King Duncan."
There was a thoughtful silence between them for a while and Gilan swore he could hear the trees encouraging him to help her. He looked at her again, though she seemed young enough, there was a hardened look about her as if she really had been fighting- there were a few scars marring her otherwise flawless pale skin and she looked slightly haunted. He noticed a wispy, close fitting silver necklace around the upper part of her long neck and there was a fresh-looking gash starting midway down her neck that continued on to the middle of her chest.
"Look," he said, breaking the silence, "I can't promise you anything, but if it's as urgent as you say it is, I believe I know someone who can get you in to see him right away."
Astrid's delicate features lit up with hope, "Thank you so much!" she said excitedly. She then leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. As she did so, Gilan was aware of a rumbling deep in her throat and realized with a start that she was purring.