"City folk," she muttered under her breath, her voice a mix of amusement and exasperation, the sound startling a nearby squirrel. In the dappled light of the early morning, filtering through the dense canopy of the Fey Forest, Meryl Contaminator of the Mountain couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as she left Wizard #6730 the chronically lost wizard, behind. His latest blunder in search of the fabled cabinet of curiosities was the last straw. Meryl was no stranger to the woods. Her life as a ranger for hire had taken her to the most secluded corners of the Fey and surrounding forests, places where the city dwellers' tales of terror were just part of her daily routine. She navigated the twisted paths with ease, her steps light and assured, a stark contrast to Uvlius's clumsy, noisy attempts at woodland exploration.
Her journey back to her forest hideout was interrupted by a familiar scent wafting through the trees. Baked goods. Her weakness. Following her nose, she found herself at the edge of a small clearing where an old witch, known to Meryl as Wizard #3676, had set up a makeshift bakery stand. "Couldn't resist, could you?" Engima cackled, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she handed Meryl a steaming hot pastry.
Meryl couldn't help but grin, biting into the pastry as she listened to Enigma’s latest gossip about the forest's inhabitants. It was a simple pleasure, but for someone who feared the claustrophobia of city life, moments like these were her treasured escape.
As the sun climbed higher, casting shadows that danced and twisted around her, Meryl's thoughts drifted to her secret. The ancient triple crowned cockatrice, a creature of myth and legend, hidden away in a location known only to her. She often wondered what would happen if word got out. The thought alone was enough to darken her mood.
Her contemplation was abruptly cut short by the sound of voices. City folk. Trying to navigate the woods. Again. This time, they seemed to be arguing about directions, their loud, clueless debate echoing through the trees.
Meryl shook her head, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. Perhaps it was time for a bit of fun. With a stealth only years of living in the forest could afford, she circled around the group, moving silently, unseen. In moments, she had them hopelessly turned around, their confidence replaced with confusion and a growing sense of panic.
"Let's see them find their way out of a paper bag now," Meryl chuckled to herself, her laughter blending with the rustling leaves as she made her way back to her hideout. The forest, with all its mysteries and dangers, was her home. And as much as she dreaded the thought of cities, she knew that deep down, she relished the opportunity to remind the city folk that the forest was not to be underestimated.
Her story, like the paths of the Fey Forest, was twisted and full of surprises. But for Meryl Contaminator of the Mountain, there was no place she'd rather be, no life she'd rather lead. With a heart as wild as the woods themselves, she was a ranger, a protector, and, when the mood struck her, a playful tormentor of the unwise adventurers who dared to tread too lightly in her domain.
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