Harrier

Eirlys Saoirsen crouched low, fingers brushing against a crushed leaf. A single discrepancy in a literal forest of leaves. A single mistake by her prey. She stood and continued following the trail, ghosting through the brush and vines without a trace or hindrance. It was an eternal job to patrol the border of the Great Forest, the boundary of Easter. Normally, the magic of the Fae prevented intruders from making it more than half a mile into the Forest before they became so confused that they wandered back out. But sometimes, poachers would hire an unscrupulous Fae (there were more of those than she liked) to guide them through the country wide bounded field.

Eirlys had been tracking this group for three days, her anger growing at each sign of a hunted glitter stag or crudely harvested glow moss. But she was close, finally, and she could put an end to this. She froze as a branch snapped in the near distance ahead of her and she could just make out brash voices and the sounds of a camp being prepared. She paused, pulling out her crossbow and silently readying it with a bolt. Then she stalked forward, silent and leaving no trail to tack her by.

The poachers were gathering fallen branches for a fire, two catfolk chimera and a human. Their guide, a stuffy looking high fae, was leaning against a tree, radiating barely disguised disgust. Eirlys stalked closer slowly as the camp came together until she was only twenty feet away from the guide. Once in position, she didn’t hesitate and the snap of her crossbow firing put everyone on alert. Well, so did the cry of agony from the guide as her bolt punched through his left calf, pinning it to the tree. She thrust out her hand, vines flying from her outstretched arm and wrapping the surprised Fae to the tree, pinning his arms. Then she sprinted from cover, to slap a piece of sticky bark over his eyes to prevent him from teleporting free of his bindings. 

The poachers were scrambling for their weapons, swords and axes. They had already unstrung their bows for the night so she had the advantage in range. And her crossbow had already reset itself, waiting for a bolt, the partially living weapon her steady companion for longer than most civilizations had lasted. Her second shot of the night pinned one of the catfolk to the ground by his boot, her third knocking another head over heels as he tried to close the distance through the rough terrain of the brush.

She faded in and out of visibility, moving impossibly quickly through the surrounding forest, bolts picking away at them from safety. The sun was just setting by the time the last poacher fell still and she was finally able to relax. Well…Eirlys looked at the struggling, screaming Fae guide and walked over to him. She stuck another sticky bark over his mouth, careful to keep his nose free for breathing. With his screaming muffled, she would really be able to relax. She could turn him in to the Council in Sylvan later.