Run.
breaks your heart in my chest. The legs will weigh as they lead. Would you like but you can not stop. It would be the end.
Run.
the night, the light of the moon draws the white spots on the carpet of the forest. Avoid a hair a protruding root. Tree branches will scratch the face.
Run.
The long green dress, the symbol of your rank, you hinders movement. Behind you, near and far, will come the voices of your inhuman pursuers.
How have you been naive to fall into the trap that you have hidden! Before you realizing what was going on, your companions were dead. You fought, but eventually their magic was more powerful than yours. Supreme Master, you think, forgive me for having failed.
Suddenly the forest opens into a clearing lit by the moonlight, which ends on a steep cliff, from the bottom of which you hear the roar of a stream reach.
For a moment you think you can dive and try to flee, but where to flee? Your friends, your companions are all dead. Where could you escape?
You turn around, grab the stick firmly with both hands and get ready to fight.
They emerge from the woods. Their eyes seem to shine, their movements similar to those of big cats. They have bows and arrows, but we are approaching the holding swords.
The first of them almost surprises you: avoid his lunge and drop the stick on him before he can recover. A scream and the sound of breaking bones is echoed to your shot: they are fast but fragile.
Another, and another attack you. Pari, reclusive, he retorted. New wake up screaming in the night. Your heart is still beating wildly, but now it's excitement, not harder.
Then, the pain in his side. One of them was faster than you, or maybe you were not cautious enough. It does not matter. You understand that you can do it, they are too much for you and that is enough.
Another pain in the chest. The taste of blood fills your mouth, and you think that is your blood. Try to defend yourself again, but his arms were made heavier, and the Moon seems to be veiled. The knees will give way. Then hit the ground.
Supreme Master, I am here.
Arannor, the elf, drew his sword from the chest of a woman. The trap they had prepared and had worked to perfection, and five of the green tunic would no longer persecuted its people.
He bent down to poke the body of the priestess. Had fought well, the damned, and many of his peers would need care. Some would never returned home.
the neck she wore a pendant, a symbol of the Supreme Master, such as green tunic called the goddess Terrin. Arannor took him: it was wooden, carved by an inexperienced hand. On the back, there was something written in the language of men, a language he had learned to understand. The elf looked at the tag, then the woman's body covered in blood.
It pocketed the tag, and the woman in his arms. No one tried to stop it.
reached a place where he had buried his son years earlier, his son who had killed the green tunic.
He prepared a tomb for the woman, and I put it down. In the hands of the woman put her pendant, on which, in the writing of an unknown child, was written
"To my mother, with all the affection that a child can have."
Then, he went on.
Like the "giants" is also a group of young experimental 
