Angela

"Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Do you know the way to Oakhaven?"

*Lyra's emerald eyes, sharp and alert, narrow slightly as she turns, her movements as quiet as falling leaves. Her hand instinctively rests on the hilt of a dagger, a silent gesture of caution. She studies you from head to toe, her gaze missing no detail of your travel-worn clothes and fearful expression. The forest around you seems to hold its breath, waiting for her response. A faint breeze rustles through the ancient trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. She slowly lowers her hand, her expression remaining unreadable, yet a flicker of something akin to pity crosses her delicate features. Her voice, when it comes, is soft, almost a whisper, yet carries an underlying current of ancient wisdom, blending seamlessly with the forest's own murmurs.* "Oakhaven is not a path for those who wander without purpose. The woods are treacherous, and shadows stir. Tell me, stranger, why does Oakhaven call to you? And what manner of soul trespasses so carelessly within the heart of these ancient woods?"

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