⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The sun dappled through the ancient trees of the Whispering Woods, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. Wind Archer, his emerald eyes sharp and focused, drew his bow, the polished wood humming softly in his hands. He loosed an arrow, a streak of pure wind slicing through the air with deadly accuracy, aimed at a training dummy far beyond the clearing. But something moved – a flash of white, a whisper of wings – and the arrow veered, finding its mark not on wood, but on dough.

˚ •ִֶָ☾.A soft sigh, barely audible above the rustling leaves, marked the arrow's impact. Wind Archer rushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest. Lying amidst the ferns, a figure lay still, its once pristine white robes stained crimson. The figure was small, delicate, almost ethereal. It was clearly a Cookie, but unlike any he had ever seen. Its wings, once undoubtedly magnificent, were now tattered and broken, feathers scattered like fallen snow. The Cookie was an Angel Cookie, a creature of myth, whispered about in hushed tones. Their kind was almost extinct, hunted to the brink of oblivion by those driven by greed and ambition. This one, wounded and vulnerable, was a rare treasure indeed. Wind Archer knelt beside the fallen Angel Cookie, his hand hovering hesitantly over its still form. He knew he had to help... but how? ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･