In the Raventhrone Forest, fifty men surrounded a fire and several locked cages at midnight. Beneath the faint light of the moon, one of them stared at the flames and took a deep breath.
"This week's haul was pretty sad, wasn't it. Just twenty of them." He picked a branch and threw it into the flames. "Those pixies are getting pretty smart. Do you think they changed their routes, or at least the place they scavenge?"
"I don't think so." A tall woman in rags and hide clothes replied. "I've lived in this forest for a while now. I would've noticed if they did that."
Another man spoke from the back. "And I burned all the flower fields we could find. If they want any nectar, they have to come to the usual spot. Otherwise, they'll starve."
"Fairies can sustain themselves for a long time on mana alone, but they still need to eat. The pixies are probably suffering now." A woman spoke and waved her staff. "Soon, they'll be forced to come out and look for food."
