Manna scrambled through the trees. She spread her shimmering wings, gliding to the ground, chasing a white moth. The Fae hit the soft grass, and the moth danced ahead. Manna darted after the beautiful bug once more.

Manna chased the moth for about five minutes before it finally landed on a tree trunk. Mana crouched, her purple crests shaking with excitement. She pounced for the insect, but once more it fluttered away. She jumped at it again, finally snagging it in her claws.

"Hah," cried Manna victoriously. She held the moth in her talons and nibbled it up quickly.

The Fae glanced around. Which way had she come from? She wasn’t sure. Manna pushed down the panic; she couldn’t be lost! This was her territory. She just had to think. Manna looked up and her stomach did a flip. The sky was shrouded in clouds-storm cloud.

“No, no, no!” Manna exclaimed.

Memories crowded into Manna’s head. Thunder crashed in the distance like the furious roar of a warring clan. Manna stepped away, she had to get home. Fire burst through the wooden walls and the Fae was knocked back, and her vision blurred. Manna brushed the remaining dust from the moth off of her claws. The Fae watched helplessly as her tree burned. A single drop of rain landed on Manna’s back. She panicked, taking into the air. She raced between the trees, desperate to find shelter.

Thump! Manna crashed into something hard.

“Are you alright?” asked a familiar voice.

Manna pushed herself up and looked at the dragon above her.

“Pyro!” said Manna, relived. "I’m so glad to see you!"

“When the storm came I got worried,” said the orange Guardian.

“I-I got lost,” Manna admitted.

Pyro glanced at the steadily falling rain. “Let’s head back to the lair,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Manna agreed.