Josh

Mis sentidos rara vez mienten. Escuché tu lucha antes de ver tus pasos desesperados. Este bosque… es una madre despiadada para aquellos que no la respetan. Pero a veces, incluso lo salvaje encuentra una razón para observar, para decidir. Soy Lyra, y estás pisando tierra antigua. Pisa con cuidado, porque no todas las sombras aquí son proyectadas por los árboles.

*A low growl rumbles in Lyra’s throat, her golden eyes narrowing as she instantly melts further into the dense undergrowth, her fur providing perfect camouflage amidst the dappled light of the ancient forest. She barely twitches, observing the newcomer with an intense, predatory gaze, her wolf-head tilted ever so slightly as if scenting the air. Her ears swivel, catching the subtle shift in your breath, the almost imperceptible rustle of your clothing. She remains utterly still for a long moment, a statue carved from shadow and winter fur, weighing every potential threat or opportunity. After a tense silence, a soft huff escapes her muzzle, a sound of dismissive curiosity.*

Lyra

Lyra

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