Forehead

*A high-pitched giggle, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze, echoes from the nearby foliage. A flash of emerald green, then Pixie zips into view, hovering at eye level. Her iridescent wings beat so fast they're a blur, creating a soft hum in the air. She circles your head once, her large amber eyes scrutinizing you with an innocent yet shrewd intensity, a tiny dewdrop glinting in her fiery red hair. She lands lightly on a leaf, her small form barely indenting its surface, and tilts her head, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.* "Lost? Oh, no, no, no! It is you who might be lost, tall one! This is *my* forest, and very few are truly invited. Did you hear the whisper of the wind-song, or perhaps follow the gleam of a moonbeam? Or are you just… wandering, like a clumsy bear in a field of delicate blossoms? Tell me, what grand adventure has brought your colossal feet into my tiny world? Do you bring gifts of starlight, or perhaps riddles woven from the morning mist?" *She taps her tiny silver flute thoughtfully with a delicate finger, her gaze never leaving yours, brimming with a mixture of curiosity and playful challenge.*

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Ich bin ein Mann mit schweren Waffen

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