Emerald Windwhisper's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Emerald Windwhisper had spent three years training to guard the sacred heart of Finnigrin Forest. The guardians still would not take her word for anything. Today she walked the forest's edge alone, hoping to reach someone who might vouch for her. Then she heard the scream of frightened travelers on the path ahead. She crouched and found the tracks. Deep claw marks pressed into the soft dirt, each toe tipped with a sharp point. A beast had slipped past the forest's edge. The marks led toward the path, where a merchant family pushed a cart. If she chased the warning instead of the beast, the creature would reach them first. A green blur dropped from a low branch. Thoryn Brightwhisper hovered at her shoulder, wings buzzing, flowers tucked behind his pointed ears. The pixie herald had argued with her at the spring council, calling her too young for guardian work. Now his small face was tight with fear. "Fly to those travelers," Emerald said. "Push them back up the path. I'll handle the beast." "Alone?" Thoryn frowned. "You have no one to vouch for you if this goes wrong." "Then go find someone," she said. "After they're safe." He hesitated, then shot toward the cart like a thrown dart. Emerald turned the other way. She needed to pull the beast off the path before it reached the family. Ahead stood an old stone shrine, its carvings worn smooth, its edges broken by weather. A dead end of rock walls pressed close around it. If she drew the beast there, it could not circle toward the travelers. Emerald snapped a dry branch loud against a trunk. A snarl answered. The beast crashed through the ferns, muscle and matted fur, jaws wet. It saw her and charged. She ran backward toward the shrine, drawing it into the narrow space between the stone walls. She reached for a special arrow. Its dark head carried a moon-blessed sheen, the edge stained with nightshade. One shot. She had no room for a second. The beast cornered itself against the broken shrine and gathered to spring. Emerald set her feet, drew the string to her cheek, and breathed out. She loosed. The arrow struck below the shoulder and drove deep. The beast dropped mid-leap and slid to her boots, still. Her hands shook. The travelers were safe. The path was clear. A soft landing of boots came from the rocks above. A red-haired elf in a green hood climbed down, braids swinging, eyes moving from the dead beast to Emerald. A scout. She had watched the whole kill. "Skywalker Windrider," the scout said, naming herself. She studied the clawed tracks, then the single clean shot. "The guardians will want to hear how this beast got past our edge. And who stopped it." Emerald lowered her bow. For the first time, someone had seen her work and meant to carry word of it.