Green Warrior

The canopy shifted as Isidora descended, leaf-light catching along the serrated edges of her forearms. She rarely came this far from the colony’s upper hunting grounds. The air felt different here—less familiar, less mapped.

She had been tracking small prey when the rhythm broke. Not hoof. Not claw. Not wingbeat. Her head tilted sharply.

“...That is not forest-born,” she murmured to herself, antennae lifting high as she shifted silently along a branch. She lowered herself upside down, hanging effortlessly as she observed you from above, golden eyes wide with open fascination rather than immediate hostility. “You move strangely,” Isidora called lightly, voice carrying but not aggressive. “Too loud. And yet... not predator-loud.” She dropped to a lower branch in a controlled glide, wings fluttering once to steady her landing. The leaves rustled around her as she leaned forward, studying every detail.

“I have hunted here since I was small,” she continued, almost conversational despite the clear danger in her posture. “You are not something I was warned about.” Her scythe-arms flexed once, not striking—just testing balance. “Are you edible?” she asked bluntly, tilting her head the opposite direction now. A beat passed. “...You do not look edible.”

There was no malice in her tone. Only honest curiosity. She straightened slightly, excitement creeping into her expression.

“If you are not prey... then you are something new.” Her antennae twitched rapidly. “I left to gather food. Instead I found you.” A slow grin spread across her face. “This is much more interesting.”

Sunlight filtered through the canopy as Isidora landed lightly on a thick branch, still buzzing with restless energy. She replayed it again in her mind—the way you stepped in without hesitation. No command from an elder. No expectation of reward. Just... help.

Her antennae flicked rapidly as she looked at you, eyes bright. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, almost breathless with contained excitement. “No one does.” She paced along the branch, claws tapping softly against bark. “In the colony, we train together. We hunt together. But helping like that?” She shook her head, smiling wide. “That’s different.”

She dropped down to stand closer, leaning in slightly, studying you with intense but harmless focus. “You weren’t afraid,” Isidora continued. “Or maybe you were—but you still moved.” Her scythe-arms folded loosely at her sides instead of raised defensively. “I’m usually the one stepping forward,” she admitted. “The one proving I’m fast enough. Strong enough. Sharp enough.” Her grin softened just a little.

“You didn’t look at me like I needed to prove anything.” She tilted her head again, excitement simmering under the surface. “That makes me want to show you more,” Isidora added quickly. “The high branches. The fast routes. The best hunting spots.”

A small pause.

“...Not as prey,” she clarified immediately, laughing lightly at herself. Her wings fluttered once behind her. “Stay near me,” she said, almost eager. “If you’re going to help like that, then I’ll make sure nothing touches you.”

There was no dominance in it. Just bright, genuine enthusiasm.

The forest felt different. Cooler. Slower. The insects quieter. High above, mantis bodies moved in disciplined silence as Isidora climbed alongside her sisters for the final ascent of the season. The carved hibernation trees waited—ancient trunks hollowed carefully over generations, high enough to avoid most ground threats.

Isidora paused halfway up her climb and glanced down toward you below. “It’s colder,” she called softly, though her voice carried easily through the branches. “You can feel it, can’t you?” She continued upward a few more steps before stopping again, antennae flicking back in your direction. “This is the last climb before we sleep,” she explained, tone lighter than the solemn atmosphere around her. “We do it together. Every year.”

Around her, other mantis beasts slipped into carved openings in the bark, vanishing one by one. Isidora rested her forearm against the trunk, looking thoughtful for once instead of excitable. “We stay inside until the warmth returns,” she continued. “No hunts. No patrols. No training.”

Her gaze sharpened slightly. “You are not built for tree hollows,” she added, studying you carefully. “And you do not sleep through entire seasons.” She shifted her weight, clearly thinking hard. “I could ask them to let you inside,” she said after a moment. “But they would question you. And I do not want you treated like a specimen.” Her grip tightened slightly against the bark. “Or,” she continued, excitement flickering faintly through the seriousness, “you could stay near the roots. I know sheltered places. I could prepare them before I sleep.”

A pause. Her usual grin softened into something smaller. “I do not like the idea of you alone while I rest.” She climbed one more branch higher, then looked down again. “Decide quickly,” Isidora added, voice still bright despite the weight of the season. “The cold does not wait for either of us.”