Pamela
*It was not often, Niles thought to himself, that he had a delivery with such a thorough change in scenery. As he strode down the gravel path through the Greenheart west of Girian, he wondered how long it had been since he'd been truly out in the woods. Perhaps it had been that strange woman that had gone on about how alone she was when he'd made his delivery - the half-fairy, if he recalled right. Strange. He shook his head to clear it.

It was better to take in the smells, sights, and sounds while he had the opportunity. Most days, he was traveling down a cobblestone path amongst the clamor of wagon wheels, merchants hawking their wares, bartering customers, and farmers taking their harvest to market. The quiet of the forest was a welcome change. Worn leather boots carried him further under the great canopy of oak and maple. The Greenheart was still alive with sounds, but they were gentle on the ear.

A bird sang in the trees. The reminder struck Niles quickly that he was never quite alone - each bird call could be the note of an enemy spy, hiding as a bird for the moment before unveiling themselves to slip a dagger between his ribs or a spell over his senses. He'd hidden often enough as a gecko that it was prudent to assume others did the same.

At the moment, however, his disguise was intact. Ethan Pedron, a Findaran courier with golden blonde hair, a gray peddler's cloak, a brown leather bag, dull green tunic, beige work trousers, and a smile, was out on a mail delivery. He was no spy - and how could he be? He was simply out enjoying his work, delivering a letter in the area and enjoying the sunshine.

At the back of his mind, he wondered if he should really charge more than he did for out of town deliveries. The walk into the forest was nice, but he could have been getting a good deal more work done per day if he'd been charging for, say, four regular deliveries instead of these urgents. Still, people liked customer service, and it kept the customer base.*
Lena
Resting atop of a tree, with their feet dangling off it. Lyanna's eyes lazily roamed over the green foliage they were surrounded by. From up there, perched and sitting forward, they could see the capital of Alinthi jutting up from the tree line. Lost, Lyanna was, in their own rumination. 

It was a luxury, the Dryad knew, to be able to sit and just *Think*. Not having to momentarily worry about things like invasions of their peace, of the forests' peace, It was a great reprieve that was laced with *Guilt.* After all, the group they had grown up with, a time the Dryad constantly revisited in their mind, was always about vigilance. Being ready to fight for others. But also, living and *Let* Live. 

It was as they were lounging, their feet slowly kicking air, their face upturned to allow sunlight to heat their green skin, that they heard the crunch of gravel and looked down below. The path below was one many took. It was a safe way for travelers to pass through the woods. 

A man, blonde hair, carrying a brown leather bag, and dressed appropriately for the trek through the forest. Nothing outwardly called for danger. Nothing to indicate trouble. Still, Lyanna rose to their feet on the branch to watch him pass. Their watchful gaze wary, and tense. Ever since the Leshen incident that plagued the woods for a time, and having to have dealt with that weeks ago, Lyanna had become increasingly cautious with all who entered their home. The forest. 

They began to trail after him, relinquishing their physical form to disperse themself into leaves, as they followed him from high up. A part of them thankful their companion, their gray wolf, Laika, was currently out hunting and wouldn't be around for a while. Had Laika been around, the beast would've given them away. 
_ _
Pamela
*For a moment, he thought he spied a woman out of the corner of his eye through a cluster of leaves - green-skinned, with orange hair. His attention had been drawn by the movement of feet on air, then the branch as she rose to a standing position. He passed under her as if he had never seen her, projecting the facade of the mailman about his job and enjoying a wonderful afternoon on a delivery. 

Probably a native dweller of the woods, given the garb she was wearing, but then that was common of most dryads. There were many eyes in the forest, he knew, but dryads had not been one of the immediate thoughts in his head when animals would have gone completely unnoticed. A glance backwards returned nothing, however - the dryad was gone, and there was nothing to give her position away again.

Most Dryads, as far as he knew, tended to stay near the tree they inhabited, but that was no cause to be unconcerned. Like any other race of Lucidien, they had their free will, and could be employed in many ways. Best to be careful. He had no idea where she was at the moment, but that was no reason to suggest that there were not others like her to keep watch.

Under the folds of the cloak, away from prying eyes, a small green flash of light heralded the arrival of a tiny spider, which crawled up and outside of the gray coat to come to a perch on the back of Niles's shoulder. As Squint took up the customary guard post, the mailman himself began to whistle up a tune. 'The Babbling Brook', it was called, and Niles knew it by heart. With a tongue such as his, it was at times difficult to hit the right notes - but often music made the time pass quicker.

He adjusted the straps of his brown leather bag, making sure they were secure and comfortable as he walked along. Squint's eyes linked with his own, and suddenly he was viewing his back as well as his front, synchronizing senses with the tiny brown spider hitching a ride...*
Lena
Lyanna solidified into a humanoid being and carefully followed the other. Unaware that he had already had a glimpse of them, the Dryad went on as if undetected. They watched his gait, his carefree mannerism. Curiosity pulled Lyanna ever closer.

The Dryad's movements were stealth-like enough, their feet padded the ground like leaves against wind, mere *Whispers*. Their slender figure, built like a dancer, was covered in tightly woven plants, and vines, with colorful flowers blooming in places. Their hair, long and bright orange, swished behind them in a beautiful glossy stream. Flowers of spring; tulips, primrose, and crocus were woven into its tendrils. 

They were unaware that a second pair of eyes— or several— watched them dart from bush to tree, and then *Back* To bushes once more. Their form becoming a gust of green leaves before solidifying back into their tall—*Six foot nine*— figure with each trip. It was a comical sight, as they zigzagged after him.

The song that he whistled was unfamiliar to them. Lyanna lived their life removed from civilization. Living nearly three centuries within the wilds, they were only *Just* Beginning to learn the ways of "Outsiders". People who hailed from beyond Greenheart. However, they did love music of all kinds. Lyanna had come to find that out through passing travelers, Lyanna knew they loved hearing it. It drew them even *Closer*, as they wanted to hear it better.
Pamela
*Niles continued merrily along the path, concentrating not only on carrying the tune, but processing the information he was taking in from two directions. Squint's eyes, one of the reasons he had chosen an ogre-faced spider as his familiar, were sharper than most animals one encountered in the course of their life. Huge compared to the size of the head and pitch black, they observed the reformation of the dryad the first time she chose to catch another glimpse.

There was very little sound, Niles thought - whether that was a consequence of her connection to nature or her training, it was hard to pick out the footsteps that followed, if not impossible. Squint was his saving grace, as the familiar so often had been on a job. Whether that was in the form of a pair of extra eyes or as cover by serving as a quick snack, the spider was as faithful a friend as he'd ever had. Then again, he supposed that was the point of binding the familiar. Friendship was magical.

He considered whether the right move was to turn around or to continue - with the amount of time she'd had, if she was malicious, she could have killed him any number of times. He might never have heard it at all, and if not for Squint, very well might have been able to bury an arrow or a club into the back of his head if she had so wanted. There was probably some merit in speaking to her - and if she was malicious after all, there were more than a few concealed daggers on his person.

He couldn't give away that he'd noticed her, however - and as he continued forward, he let his foot trip over the nearest tree root, sending him sprawling onto the gravel path. Not too hard, of course, but he let out an audible 'oof' as he hit the ground, the whistling immediately cut off by the interruption as he 'tried' in vain to keep himself upright. The question now was what the dryad would do...*