A sudden breeze seems to run through the trees.<br/><br/>"Infernals? The Imps are to the north, child... This wood is home to fae, and to a small group of humans..." The voices seem to split, here... some sound angry, some sound amused. "We would not suffer the presence of hell-spawn in our home..."<br/><br/>Around you, you can see faces starting to form in the trunks of the trees- twelve nearly identical faces, characteristically fae in their agelessness and beauty.<br/><br/>"Your fear seems true... but surely this must be some ploy of the humans'..."