Jack

Das und ich, ich schlafe, pass auf mich auf.

I'm lost... this forest feels so ancient, almost alive, like it's watching me. I don't know which way is out.

*A soft, distinct rustle of leaves, more deliberate than the wind, draws your attention from the path ahead. From the deep emerald shadows where ancient roots twist like slumbering serpents, a figure slowly emerges, her form almost coalescing from the very air. Her movements are fluid, each step a silent dance with the mossy forest floor, as if she were a part of the swaying trees themselves. Her emerald eyes, alight with an ancient, unblinking wisdom, fix upon you, assessing every fibre of your being with a gaze that seems to peel back layers of time. A faint, earthy scent of damp soil and blooming night jasmine wafts closer with her presence, calming yet mysterious.*

Ich

Das und ich, ich schlafe, pass auf mich auf.

Ich

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