"Hiei is the toughest one by far, both cunning and ruthless. He will do anything to get what he wants."
-Botan

From the Four Winds
Chapter One: "Specter in the Shadows"

The world was green.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, attempting futilely to penetrate the dense haze of the forest. Instead, it lit the trees with a jade sheen, as though the legions of trees had once been constructed entirely out of bronze and copper, abandoned to time and the elements, only to be swathed in verdigris. It was an ancient city, the oaks like looming watchtowers, the bluish fog that lingered above the undergrowth like smoke from warming fires.

The world was green, and the world was shadows.

And there were strangers.

Four silhouettes had entered the fog, walking like specters in the murky green light. The foliage was so thick underneath that their footfall was silent; the only sound that of the distant howls of wind skimming the trees above.

She watched them, more curious than threatened. Strangers were all she could think of, but the word was strange within itself. She had never encountered strangers, not like these—beasts of all kinds, amassed with thick fur and razor claws and unquenchable appetites, she perpetually happened upon, but they were beings of the forest. No manner of creatures that resembled her reflection when peering into water had ever set foot inside this wooded realm.

Strangers.

Strange.

Her head cocked to the side, the curiosity augmenting and beginning to get the better of her, although her instincts warned that the four were possibly dangerous. The intruders, the strangers, continued further into the forest, and she slid from one tree to another, clinging to branches, to thick, twisted tree trunks, remaining in the shadows as a silent specter herself. She watched, intrigued, how the fog swirled about their ankles, how their shadows darkened the forest's shadows.

Then she heard their voices. Words, she thought, and listened. Strange. They spoke as they ventured forth, their tones hushed with caution, and she could see even from her high perch that the hairs on their necks and arms were raised. Their eyes flickered about their surroundings, and she was careful not to breach her tree's protective shadow.

They were not fools, she realized approvingly, but were wary of the forest.

She set her shoulders like theirs, stiff and ready, and listened to them.

Their sounds varied. She found herself favorable to the different pitches and timbres and how they seemed to harmonize, reminding her of all the birds that sang together only during the forest's quiet mornings.

The leader of the coven abruptly raised his voice, and she ducked her head beneath a large, olive-hued leaf, startled, and eyed him through a shaft of sunlight. She slid down the tree to attain a closer look, crouching behind a large shrubbery to watch them pass. Behind her makeshift mask, she peered through the tiny peek-hole of leaves to watch him come into view.

Strange, strange, stranger.

He wore green and a scrunched face. Scowl, she thought instantly. Another odd word, but it was fitting. Annoyed. His body was lean, shoulders squared, and walked through her forest's brambles with hands shoved insides the clothing he wore over his legs. The leader's scowl deepened, crinkling eyes that were dark and very aggressive, and she was given the impression that they had seen much more than she could ever imagine in her vast forest world.

And then, strangely, he rolled them.

She cocked her head to the side for a moment, then proceeded to roll her own eyes, curious and amused, wondering what the meaning was behind such an action.

The next in the group, however, she directly connected as the reason for the leader's eye rolling. Irritation, she mused, thinking that the leader disagreed with how heedlessly—dangerously—loud the second's voice carried throughout the forest.

Like their voices, their appearances were vastly different.

She almost palpably felt the second's exhaustion, observing the streaks of sweat that lined his rectangular face. His fists were clamped together, and once again the word irritation ran its strangeness through her mind. His features were nothing compared to the thick sweeps of hair that fell, with a tapering curl, into his eyes. Which was orange. Orange like the poisonous flowers that grew in the exiguous scattering of bogs around the woodland outskirts.

Intrigued once more, she pulled her attention to the next in line.

And was nearly blown away by the sudden onslaught of energy that emanated from him, a strange, all-together different energy that she had felt from the first two. This energy was stronger, much more controlled, but pulsated around him like an aura of pure, concentrated power. She edged closer, ducking when the leader turned his head in her direction.

This stranger, like the previous one, had hair that reminded her of the forest's flora, this time of the petals of the flower that hung in vibrant eruptions of red from innumerable tree vines. She felt a faint urge to reach out and touch the long mane, intrigued over the unruly but obedient way it fell across his forehead. He was not quite as tall as the first two, but his body was more sinuous, whose footfall, like his expression, seemed calculated. She shifted uncomfortably, not entirely due to his calm appearance, but by the innate sense that something much less composed dwelled inside of him.

His eyes were strange, too. Trustworthy, a shade of green that belonged only to the forest.

Glancing away, her eyes locked onto the last of the strangers.

And her curiosity spiked.

Instinct coursed hotly in her fingertips, alerting her of instantaneous, acute danger, and she shivered in response, involuntarily poising herself to either fight or flee. Holding a breath, she leaned closer, almost shaking the leaves of her shrub.

He was smaller than the rest, but his energy ran even more rampant, wilder than the redhead before him. It quaked around him, like the lightning storms that often struck the sky overhead, and once again she felt her fingertips burn hot with the utmost of unease. She breathed carefully, watching.

His face was a mask of detachment, smooth and sharp on his very angular face. He peered around the forest, brows low, just as calculating as the one before him. His silence, however, was different. Whereas the redhead seemed nearly serene, his silence was almost tangibly menacing, and it was evident that it was much preferred. His black attire had him fading into the forest's miasmic background, making him appear more of a specter than she was.

But when his eyes roamed near her shrub, her breath shuddering to a halt, she could see the assured, feral depth accumulated within them. And they were red. Crimson. Almost—but not quite—like fire and blood, like life and death. And as quickly as they came, they flashed away.

She edged closer once more, indiscreetly tempting fate. Strange, she thought again, suddenly wanting to test the word aloud. Biting her lips together from doing so, she peered through the flora to view upon the strange eyes.

The color stood out fiercely, especially within the midst of the subterranean smog—bright, an absolute yet deep dwelling red, and for all her recollecting she could not unite the color to anything she had ever seen within her woodland. Not the blood, thick and warm and undulating, from the beasts she killed for sustenance, not the exotic flora the forest blossomed, nor from the evenings she spent scaling the highest trees, swaying upon their crests, to look upon the scarlet hues of the falling sun.

Strange, strange.

Stranger.

It was the kind of color that the dark forest around her accepted, the color she wanted it to possess, to surround her. The kind of color that was almost not a color itself, but an entity, a living shade. He was dressed simply, but there was no color to him but the fathoms of red.

And within the next moment, again, those same eyes swept across her shrub.

She held her breath, watchful, heart beating with a kind of fear she never knew existed. But they flitted away, returning to their previous indifferent gaze, and she exhaled with deep relief. Soon, the group, at a safe distance from her shrub, passed by and trekked further into the heart of the forest, disappearing behind a cascading overhang of amaranthine-hued ivy.

With the strange pounding in her chest, she scaled a nearby tree. She smiled once catching sight of the intruders, furtively following their progress. And then more questions arose: why were they here, trekking through her spectral forest? Why start out silent and wary to speaking so foolishly loud to one another?

But more importantly: what were these strange creatures?

It was clear that they were dangerous, potential threats, emitting high levels of energy that she had never once encountered, but they tentatively walked amongst the trees, peering about as though they were within the midst of a hunt.

Her eyes narrowed. The only creatures that had crossed her path early in the day had been a pack of fissinus, omnivorous scaled beasts that roamed the forest. In the past she had killed a scavenger or two when they ventured too close to her dwelling, but more often than not the packs evaded her path if she evaded their own. They were savage and mainly infested the caves at the base of the forest's lone mountain, but were wary creatures due to their slow breeding cycles.

She was rather fond of these beasts, her jaw setting at the thought that these strangers might needlessly harm them. Once, many seasons ago, creatures with arms and legs much like her own, but with slimy amphibian flesh and faces, had hunted down the largest pack, slaughtering the newborn pups and riding the full-grown fissinus like mounted prey.

They had not been imperceptible to fire, she smiled grimly, fingernails digging angrily into tree bark at the memory. Their last breaths, screams of anguish riddled with the melting of flesh, echoed in her ears. Trespassers, she thought. Bad strangers.

The group stopped. She remained in the shadows, within the shield of leaves, watching them more closely than ever as they formed a loose circle. Their voices were much more hushed this time. Edging closer onto a branch, she ducked to remain crouched in a shroud of shadow, trying to listen to their odd pitches, trying to decipher if they had broached her woodland home for ill-intent or not.

A branch snapped.

It came from behind her, but far, far below. All the same, the group snapped their heads towards the direction of her tree. She stiffened with equal alarm, hitching her breath, but before she could move an arrow made entirely out of stone whistled past her head, piercing the airwaves towards the four strangers. It landed with a soft thud in front of the orange-haired creature, who shrieked with surprise.

She moved quickly, as silently as possible towards the trunk of her tree, but stopped when a pair of crimson eyes had pierced through the shadows and caught the movement.