Under the sun dappled grassy emerald hill that over looked a vast sea of golden field of wheat strolled a father, a son, and a mother.

It was a picnic day for them. The mother on her left hand was a basket of steamy brown loaves slapped with slippery butter sprinkled with salt.

Alongside were red plump tomatoes, crunchy carrots, roasted juicy red meat and sweet munchy apples. Meanwhile her right hand held a steel black helmet with strips of gold like designs outlining its visor, it was perfect suited for her plated black armor she wore today.

They were going out, she said, so being in full armor is not weird  for being outside their city walls on such a sunny and open occasion.

This picnic wasn't in a pleasant start. The mother was irritated on her husband's insistence that a simple casual clothing of shirt, trousers and leather boots was enough. He only brought a dagger unlike the mother who brought a two handed sword.

While his left hand gripped two wooden swords he also brought two wine skins for this picnic, one filled with ale and one filled with ‘adventurer's’ drink; their son's favorite. Furthermore, their son was eager and made all attempts to dash away from his mother's firm grip on him. It was his first time in years to leave the town walls and finally frolic on an airy open blissful freedom that is the outside.

    Soon enough, they settled on top of the hill under the parasol of a lone tall shady tree. Once they arrived the father tied the ecstatic son's waist to the trunk while the mother looked around the hilly terrain holding her sword as she surveyed their surrounding.

The father placed a blanket and began preparing for a meal before they start training their son. The father cut the steamy bread barehanded, the mother cut the red plump tomato and sliced the juicy meat into strips while the son, lacking mobility, took the wooden sword and attacked his father who was responsible of his restrictions.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Dodging every swing his son made he soon made three pair of sandwiches that he stuffed to his son's mouth while ruffling his hair as he sat him down and told him they will start once they finished eating. The son, still energetic and full climbed up the tree instead.

The family ate under the tree while the winds swings freely as they enjoy their picnic peacefully. It was a once in a life time experience for them.

The father held his wife's hand that was constantly on the look out while the other hand was on her sword.

It was a peaceful day for the three. Only the mother was worried a monster might pop out from the forest which was a kilometer away from them.

Yet the mother and father failed to look above the tree where a little mantis monster who was motions and in deep concentration. Eyes cold as ice, face unflinching and body perfectly camouflage on tree top. She perched and had her small sharp scythes up and ready to strike any bird that would land and rest.

Only the boy noticed this girly monster as he climbed up the tree. He could hear her belly silently grumble as no bird has been perching this tree since morning. The boy then tried to poke the mantis with his wooden sword but the mantis was still as a statue and uncaring for the boy who was just a hindrance for her next meal.

The boy didn't relent though as he squirmed himself beside the mantis and swayed his sandwich in front of mantis monster in front of her eyes.

She still didn't respond until her nose sniffed the brown pastry goodness and the hint roasted meat and butter perfumed her nose that a small drool slipped out of her mouth and began chomping in small bites like a squirrel at first but soon began stuffing her mouth further.

The boy didn't move and just looked at the girl with widen eyes and beating heart as he saw her face when finishing off the sandwich. While the ma this looked at this white haired boy thinking maybe being together with him would get her more food like this.

“Pretty.”

His eyes sparkled at her.

“Elfien!!!”

Screamed the mother.

A slash split the branch in a crack.