Verana smelled them on the wind moments before she heard the thunderous beats of their wings rushing past her ears. She banked sharply to one side, using an updraft to lift her with dizzying speed into the air and away from... the five winged men who had appeared out of nowhere and, with weapons drawn, had decided to chase her. She could smell violence on them, amusement and curiosity, as if they were hunting something, expecting a fight and revelling in the thought of it.

She wondered briefly how far she could make it before she would have to turn and fight, or where the closest area of refuge and reinforcements would be. She quickly realized that she would be making a suicide run to Morningside, hoping any of her friends were there, bringing down an enemy she wasn't sure they could handle. And Morningside was a couple hours away, she wasn't sure if she could out distance the larger wingspans when the ground opened up into the foothills and plains that stood between her and her friends.

These winged ones were large, they were wearing some sort of metal armour that moved like a second skin and shimmered brilliantly in the sunshine. They had dark skin, blonde hair and dark brown wings, aside from one of them, whose wings shimmered with colour like hers and seemed to lead the group.

As they banked around to follow her movements, she saw that they were fast and far better at this flying thing than she was. So, instead of making a run for her human friends she did the next thing that came to mind. She pulled at her power, allowing her fear to manifest into a dark roiling storm cloud in their direction and dove, speeding towards the ground and the waiting Wild with its enclosed trees and tight quarters that would make it impossible to run with her wings unfolded, let alone fly. She could lose them in the Wild, on the ground.

Verana knew how to hunt in the forest, how to run silently and disappear from those who did not call it home, if only she could reach it. She hoped that these men chasing her were as unfamiliar with hunting in the Wild as she was with soaring through the skies as she pushed herself. She felt the air scream past her as the dark safety of the trees raced closer, pushing herself as fast as she could go.

She tried, she honestly did. And maybe if she hadn't flown all day yesterday, or perhaps if she hadn't been wasting her best flying on enjoying the mountains for the first half of the day, she would have been able to make enough headway to reach the Wild before they caught her. But as she felt the blast of air from the two sets of wings closing in, she realized that she wasn't going to be able to run any further. Instead, she decided to fight, folding her wings in completely to her back and dropping out of the sky ten feet above the open expanse of ground that stretched between her and the safety of her Wild, avoiding whatever had been looking to land on her back.

She hit the ground in a roll, pulling out her swords and turning to face her pursuers as three of them landed in front of her, hearing the other two land behind her, though they circled around her smoothly, trying to surround her. They towered above her, their eyes dark, all their weapons the same two identical blades, straight along one end and jagged along the other. They moved as a unit, circling her like a pack of wolves. They spoke a language that she did not recognize and smelled distinctively of violence, though there was a fair bit of confusion building as their eyes ran over her features. She understood the moment their language settled into her mind and she was able to understand it.

"Vasha, she's not Rulin."

Verana looked at the one who said that, one of the last ones to land, the one who smelled the least of violence, though still quite headily dangerous. His blades held easily in his hands as an intelligent expression lit up his features while he regarded her.

"Well, Chaven, she's definitely not Vayan. Look at her eyes." One of the ones in front of her said with a fair bit of amusement. "She's tiny."

"I'm neither. Let me go." She said sharply, baring her teeth in a growl. The one who spoke had a moment of surprise, before he grinned darkly at her.

"Well, this is the worst laid trap I have ever seen. You nearly killed yourself along that river and who ever taught you to land like that? You fly as if you were thrown from the side of a cliff and abandoned to whatever fate you made for yourself." The words were growled, eyes narrowed. She noticed that they all had hazel eyes and to a man, they were battle hardened and brooding. "Where are the rest of you?"

Verana glanced around at them, shaking her head. If this was a misunderstanding she would gladly let it go. She had the distinct impression that they would not be as easy foes as humans were. "I said, let me go. This isn't a trap. I have no interest in you."

She didn't wait for a response, she simply leapt straight up into the air while sheathing her blades, using every ounce of that was Feysha to clear their height, before snapping her wings out and taking off. She had nearly done it, if only one of them hadn't been quite as fast on his reaction time and followed her, snagging her ankle and taking her hard to the ground. He landed on his feet as he brought her down. He was unsteady, stumbling after her as she tumbled back into a roll and turned to face him in time for him to attempt to tackle her to the ground. She turned with his momentum, redirecting his mass over her shoulder and through the air, before moving to dodge around him and sprint for the forest once more.

Only she wasn't used to fighting someone with wings and he only tumbled through the air for a moment before he snapped his wings wide and caught himself, dodging right back in front of her. She avoided him again, then spun to avoid a second man trying to tackle her, launching herself into a diving roll under the third one and had managed about ten steps closer to the forest when she felt herself snatched up into the air. The arms that held her were around hers, holding on firmly as whomever held her rose into the air. He was there for a moment before they dropped again, him landing on his feet while holding her off of hers as she struggled viciously to free herself from his grip.

"Grab her arms!" He yelled as she managed to elbow him hard in the ribs and in a blink of an eye she had one large male on each side. They held her with no budge, one arm securing hers, the second hand positioned over her folded wing, keeping them pinned to her back and immobile. Though thankfully they didn't let her dangle above the ground too long. Her right shoulder ached under the scar that had just begun to fade and being lowered to the ground was a larger relief than she would admit these strangers.

She growled as one of them stepped towards her, pulling her sword belt off, tossing it to the ground after he unsheathed her swords. He watched the blades move, spinning them in his hands. They looked like toys, so small in his hands as he whistled and nodded to the one with the colourful wings. "Vasha, its Vayan steel. I've never seen this style of blade, and its old, but its Vayan."

The one called Vasha nodded, giving her a long, considering look, before drawing himself up. She had seen that posture, that expression, amongst the human Lords who were used to being listened to. "So you can fight better than you can fly, which is curious. Cause you don't seem to know how to use our wings to help you at all. What's in the forest?"

"I'm sure you dumb elephants couldn't follow me in the trees." She shrugged as best she could, glancing at the two who held her. They were those who stood in front of her when they first landed but she was having trouble trying to place names to them.

The fifth one barked a laugh, glancing to the trees and then back to her. "Who are you?"

Verana snorted at that, watching him evenly. "You're the ones on my island. Who are you?"

"Oh." The fifth one mocked surprise and then embarrassment, though she could smell a deep, primal confidence in him and a dark amusement. The violence being angled her way had been replaced by the smell of exasperation in all of them, coupled with confusion and... something akin to worry but different enough that she couldn't quite place it. This one, however, was more amused than the rest of them. "Forgive our intrusion. I am Anzael, the two keeping you steady and stationary are Yantha and Ilka. The guy in love with your tiny swords is Chaven... oh and this guy? This is Crown Prince Vashandeil, future king of Vayana. And you are?"

"Veranandein." She said easily, offering a shrug. "I don't know where Vayana is, but it isn't anywhere around here and it is no concern of mine."

Vasha raised a brow at that, taking a step towards her, lowering his head slightly to meet her eyes. "Funny, because you speak Vayan, you have Vayan blades and you just said you have the same name as my grandmother."

"Don't forget about her wings, Vasha... not many people have those wings." Ilka murmured from beside her, the bass of his voice rumbling through the air and from his hands into her arms. He sounded steady, calm, and intelligent.

The Prince nodded, spreading his own wings, which seemed identical to hers, if a bit bigger, to account for his size. "Yes, there's that. Who are you?"

Verana began to get a very odd, sinking feeling, looking at the man in front of her, she wondered for a moment about refusing to answer.  

But her Path, which had been silent most of the winter had begun pulling her towards him, pulling her to answer him. "The name I was given at birth was Nama Veranandein Neeria, I understand your language because I heard you speak it. I have the ability to speak and understand languages after only hearing them for a few moments. I know next to nothing about my wings, as they were kept from me until last summer. Those blades have belonged to the Feysha for a thousand years, and I am the Keeper of the Peace Swords, ambassador for the Feysha to the Human Kingdom of Clairval and a sworn protector of the Wild and this Island. I am alone because none of my people can fly and I want you to let me go, now. Go back to Vayana, carry on with your lives, ignoring this island and its people. Quite frankly, we don't need the extra attention."

They all looked stunned, and for a moment, the grip on her arms loosened. But she wasn't going to run away, not with them holding her swords and she had to contend herself with taking a small sort of satisfaction in wiping the amusement from their faces.

"So... you've only known you've had wings... for what, five months?" Anzael asked suddenly, counting on his fingers for a moment, before focusing on her. "And if no one here knows how to fly, how the hell did you learn?"

"I taught myself." She found her arms dropped, the two men holding her stepping away from her carefully, allowing her to lift her hand and rub her shoulder over the scar, working out the knot as she watched the five of them face her. She realized now that they could see it, a couple of them glancing to follow her hand, their expressions darkening. A sleeveless shirt was easier to wear with wings, but it also bared her arms and the scars on them. Vasha was looking between her and his friend incredulously, though whether it was at his friend's questions or her answers, she couldn't be sure.

He didn't seem impressed with either one of them.

"Oh. Yeah." Anzael rolled his eyes, shaking his head, his words dripping with sarcasm. "You're lucky you're not dead. No wonder you fly like you're trying to kill yourself, you don't realize that you are, in fact, down right insane."

"Anzael." Vasha said finally, shaking his head, and focusing on her. "You need to come with us. You're not safe here."

Verana blinked at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "No. But I'll take my swords back."

She hadn't expected it to work but the one named Chaven, wrapped them up in her belt and handed them back over and she took a large step backwards from them, strapping her sword belt back on.

"Your existence doesn't make any sense." Vasha said darkly, taking one step towards her, his wings opening a big wider, his stance looking slightly more intimidating. She had seen posturing in the Wild and that was what this was. Vasha's wings spread to show dominance, his expression clearly saying he expected no further argument. "But if you are who you say you are, we can not leave you here, alone. You're not safe."

"I was perfectly safe until you chased me." She said stubbornly, shaking her head. "No. I'm needed here."

"If you're so safe, how the hell did you end up with a scar that looks like you had a hole in your shoulder?" It was less of a question and more of an angry exclamation but she refused to acknowledge it as such, glaring at the man who called himself a Prince.

Verana shrugged, rubbing her shoulder again, wondering again if it had been wise to choose a sleeveless shirt, as if she could have planned to meet these strange men. "Someone tried to kill the King of Clairval and one of his Lords, I was able to stop them, but they got a lucky shot."

Anzael looked heavenward, barking a laugh that earned him a hard punch to the arm from Chaven. Vasha looked downright ill at her answer. "You risked your life for a Human?"

"And you're risking your lives not doing as Nama Veranandein says." Came a growl from the woods, as Sencha stalked out of them, his compound bow drawn and aimed straight at Vasha. He was followed by his entire platoon, all with drawn bows, all aimed at the five winged men. "This island has always been welcome to the Vayans but not when you attack one of our own."

Vasha snarled that but didn't step any closer to her, allowing Verana to take several steps back towards the Feyshan archers. "By all accounts, she is one of us."

Sencha offered him a sharp toothed grin, his arms not wavering from his aim on the man's heart. "She is more than Feysha, different but Vayan. More than both. But she does not belong to you. And your Queen would not be happy with you arguing that fact, believe me. Run home, boys. You are out past your curfew."

Vasha paused for a long moment, turning his gaze from Sencha to Verana, pulling a round crystal from his pocket and tossing through the air to her. "No matter where you are in this world, if you need help, we will be there."

And with that, he leapt into the air, followed by the other four, soaring up beyond her sight quicker than she thought possible, leaving her to roll the stone around in her palm, before slipping it into her pocket, looking towards her father in confusion. "Who was that?"

Sencha, lowered his bow, putting the arrow back into its quiver and offering a careful shrug. "I suppose that is probably your younger brother. You don't waste any time, do you?"