Pockets of Thieves

Eriadne     Eriadne had been on the tail end of her patrol shift, making her way back towards home and a much needed cold shower to wash off the days' dirt and sweat that had made home in the unfortunate spots that her leather armor didn't cover. The further away she flew from the forest line of the Greatwood saw the tension in her muscles relax as she approached Sidhe village. Nobody the Fae didn't want inside the Greatwood made it very far and such a fact put the guard's mind at ease. Only those trusted by the Fae could make their way through the wooded land; a fact that she reminded herself of every time she swung her blade at the snap of a twig only for it to be an unfortunately blighted squirrel.     The end result of her blade meeting blighted squirrel or an outsider was the same when given the chance.     Voices drifting to her on the breeze catch her attention as she flits between the trees, taking her time in reporting back after an uneventful shift. Rowan's voice was one she knew by heart after half of a century and for all the years considered worthwhile thus far in her life. The other, feminine, was one the Fae woman hadn't heard before. Rowan's business wasn't any of hers as far as she was concerned, prepared to move on and let him consort with whomever he pleased as long as they weren't near the village when a simple word stops her flight in its path.     Mathair.     While not as nimble as her sister, Nephele, Eriadne turns on a dime towards the voices. Her sword is unsheathed before her feet even touch the ground beside Rowan- was his bag moving? -pointed directly at who she can only assume is the source of the feminine voice. The young woman, assumedly she wasn't an infant by Outlander standards, wasn't much to look at admittedly, but that didn't mean she wasn't a threat. Not to mention the pink... Creature that accompanied her, hissing like a feral cat in need of being put down after the touch of Blight.     "I don't mean to interrupt," Eriadne's smile contrasts the sharpness in her voice as she glances between Rowan and this stranger. "But any matters involving Outlanders in my wood are inherently my business." Outlander burns her tongue as she spits it in the girl's direction.     "What business do you have with our Mathair, stranger?" Was bringing the blight to the forest not enough of an insult to the Fae? Now they sought their beloved tree and the audacity of these strangers never ceased to amaze her as she fought to school her features free of the disdain she felt for the woman.