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A Faerie's Fancy
The young guard shot a glare at the woman's back as she walked towards the other elf being mutilated by her pet. "Prey?" he muttered, shaking his head. An odd insult, but one that seemed to hit a nerve nonetheless. Holding in a cry of pain, he popped his dislocated shoulder back in, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He pushed himself back to his feet, looking around to find where the squeaking was coming from, his eyes falling to the bag, which was still wriggling. He started over towards it.

Bending over the dying man, Keira growled, no longer in fury, but desperation. She knew that she had not truly taken his life. But she had sent Fenrir after him, so it surely was just as much her fault as the wolf's. Despite her hatred of many of the bipedal races, she didn't like to kill them. Her sharp ears caught the mans words, and her feeling of guilt worsened. *Angel of darkness? Nice ring to it...* She thought as he stumbled through the last sentence. "NO! Don't you die on me yet! Where's Leeli?!" she growled at him, seeing the telltale film going over his eyes, and knowing that he couldn't hear her. Cursing fit for a sailor, she grabbed her pack and pulled out the strips of leather she had, thinking to staunch the blood. A whine from Fenrir stopped her, and as she looked at Tan shirt, she knew that her meager first aid skills would never save the man. He had lost so much blood, and his arm wouldn't ever be the same, nor his shoulder. Sighing, she whispered softly "I'm sorry." Then she stood. It was time to find her faerie friend.

"Leeli?!" She called out, looking for the general area. Hopefully the blue woman wouldn't be hurt.

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