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"Defend it?" asked Frita, a fuzzy note of alarm tickling her mind. "Indeed. Perhaps a few times a year it is threatened by humans from the many villages that surround the forest. You are a fierce fey warrior, and would give anything to keep them from sullying its beauty." Frita nodded. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes... of course." The voice left her then, and she sat alone for several minutes, trying to recall why she'd run so quickly from Taurill's affections when she returned them. He was a valued member of the community she would die to protect, and she cared for him in a special way. He accepted her back tentatively, and it was clear that his trust in her was fragile, but she was here to stay; she had all the time in the world to prove her affections. In the meantime, she went to the warriors of Blueleaf to ask about weapons. They happily began to teach her how to craft bows from twigs and arrows from stone. She asked about armor as well, which earned her some puzzled stares; if a fairy was hit, it was over no matter how much padding she was wearing. That was why all their energy went into making sure they did not get it. Over the course of a few days, Frita completely mastered the art of magically charging her arrows to ensure they struck true, and even weaving hexes into them. She was a quick study, to be sure. It felt like this was what she was born to do. As the other fairies explained some of their combat formations to her, every time they mentioned humans, Frita's nose crinkled in disgust. She couldn't believe she had once been one, and the thought of any of them trespassing in this beautiful place sent her boiling. She would make sure this community remained safe, no matter the cost to her. Soon enough she was a full-fledged member of the guard force, and joined their daily patrols around the forest. In the meantime, she was continuing her relationship with Taurill. It seemed that, inside a week, she had built a life here, and sometimes she wept in happiness to think how very much she had compared to that lonely questing knight sent on a suicide mission. It wasn't long before she lost track of the days, but it had to have been at least several months before the time came that the evening patrol she was leading encountered two humans, a man and a woman, setting up camp near a thicket. Frita's glow turned red as she regarded them, and she turned to her fellows and explained, in hushed tones, the tactic she had long decided on for dealing with human intruders:
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