In a flurry, the one friend the forest spirit had made in her year of mirroring and outcastment for the inability to do it well enough was torn from her grips.

Understandable, she was in the form of an apex preditor playing with one of their young. Gloreth had been accepting, unlike the qoodland creatures. Her herd would be too, wouldn't it? She turned into a little girl, mimicking, her best skill, but their fear just heightened.

From there, it was a blur of pitchforks and torches, yelling of words she didn't quite understand, but one was repeated over and over. Monster.

She was scared, terrified. She was just a little girl. Why did these people hate her so much?