Where she belongs? – A tale from Briarhaven.

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Mora sat on the edge of the balcony around the treehouse and smiled. She closed her eyes as the pale sunlight of the winter morning reached through the leaves of the tree she now called home. A blue-tit landed beside her, its shrill chirping calling out to her. “Hello there, little one!” It was joined by a chaffinch. Mora shared the last of her breakfast bread with them, scattering crumbs so that a bullfinch could enjoy them too.

It had been a few days now since Mora had finally moved home from the human village. She had heard enough whispers of war, and gossip about Pyrite possibly pressuring Minn on something. She needed to find out, and possibly help. The only way she could see this happening was to move into the Glade and become a useful part of the Enchanted settlement.

They had been surprised to see her arrive, but directed her to a tree-house which had apparently been empty a while. As Mora opened the door, there was much scrambling and startled noises from inside. As the dust settled, she was confronted by birds and squirrels who had been sheltering in there from the winter outside. The fairy smiled. “Well at least it doesn’t look as though I shall lack for company”

Mora didn’t have too many belongings, but by the end of that day she had swept out the house and made it feel cosy. Viola the bluebird seemed happy in the company of the other creatures, and as soon as the fairy sat at the table, exhausted, two squirrels soon appeared there with her, chattering at her. She snickered and pushed a bowl of nuts across the table, grinning as they helped themselves

 

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It was only as she looked back at her bow hanging beside the door that she remembered the task she had set herself. This house gave her the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the Glade and any who would come there wishing to bring trouble. She could be of great use to Pyrite here. He had great number of imps and goblin to do his bidding, but few who had her particular battle skills or experience. Sometimes it was the unseen and silent warrior who could act as a sharp knife and leave an enemy wondering who or what had sliced them.

She couldn’t deny that she held the distant hope that if she were useful to the community, she might be in a better position to find out what exactly Pyrite was up to and could possibly even help intervene or sway him to another path of action. Yet as she looked at her songbird friends sharing her breakfast, she couldn’t help but smile at how blessed she would be to start her days as simply as this.

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