A story about a young wood nymph type thing, who is being hunted by humans

Raethorn tossed one of her brilliant red plaits over her shoulder as she dashed through the forest. Was she safe yet? It was hard to tell.  She glanced back warily and slowed to a walk, looking about her fearfully. She was miles away from her village and at the young age of 14 summers,  she was extremely  vulnerable to predators and hunters not to mention the slave traders that were said to be looking for the forest folk. Rare specimens sold for much more on the market. Raethorn flexed her thin but strong transparent wings carefully. Did she dare fly? Or was this what the enemy wanted?  Her breathing was quick and fevered and the blood from where the hunter had gashed her calf was bleeding steadily, leaving a clear trail of red droplets. She had no choice but to fly. She leapt into the air, her wings whirring powerfully. She gave a sigh and relaxed, executing a lazy roll in mid-air.  She felt so at home above the forest canopy. Below her the was a loud cracking and the scent of burning filled Raethorn's ears. Rage clouded her vision. How could they do this to the gaurdian's forest? They were destroying it! She weighed up her chances against the humans. She was faster, more nimble and agile, her senses so much sharper and her reflexes faster by a long shot. With a mischeaveous  grin she swooped down, drawing her dagger...

The End

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