The forest was still, its canopy whispering only with the faint breath of the wind. From my perch high among the branches, I watched the shafts of sunlight pierce the green below, breaking across fern and moss. Few ever strayed this far into the Greenwood, and fewer still walked the hidden paths that wound beneath these trees.

Then... footsteps. Light, measured, careful upon the leaf-strewn path. My head tilted, listening. Not Orc, nor the heavy tread of Men. Softer. Unfamiliar.

I moved without sound, a shadow slipping across the boughs until I could see the figure below. Long hair catching the sunlight like pale fire, a gown that seemed woven of the very forest .. and there, in her stride, the unhurried grace of one who belonged here, though I had not known her face before.

I narrowed my eyes, hand brushing the curve of my bow though I did not yet draw it. Visitors did not come unheralded to these woods. Not here. Not to me.

I let my voice carry down, quiet but edged with vigilance, like an arrow loosed without warning. “You walk far beneath these trees, my lady. Few find this path.. fewer still without my knowing. Who are you, that the forest allows your steps?”