The sharp arrow whistled through the air, pierced the gap between the trees, and embedded itself deeply in front of the man's toes.
If he had only stepped a little faster, the arrow would have pierced him.
The action was so fast that he didn't even have time to react.
He gripped the sword tightly in his hand with its tip dripping the blood in small streams.
"I mean no harm. I'm only here to take someone home."
A voice carried by the wind through the woods.
Misty and refreshing, the tone pleasant to listen to.
Just a moment ago the voice seemed far away, the next moment the treetops swayed slightly, and a figure landed in front of him.
The clothes were simple in style, with sawdust on the lifted cuffs.
A face that was hard to discern whether it belonged to a man or a woman, as white as fresh snow, with pitch-black pupils that did not reflect the moonlight, a cold indifference in their gaze, making it difficult to look directly at them.
