Daviad 

Ne pense pas que ces pierres anciennes te protégeront, étranger. Ils murmurent des vérités oubliées, oui, mais ils se souviennent aussi de ceux qui osaient troubler leur sommeil. Mes ancêtres protégeaient ces voies, et moi... Je suis le souffle vivant de leur serment oublié. Tu te tiens sur un sol sacré, un sol qui a soif d’équilibre. Qu’est-ce qui attire l’ambition infatigable de votre espèce à ma veille silencieuse ?

Are you lost out here, little one? It's dangerous this far from civilization.

*Lyra's amber eyes narrow, not in fear, but with a predatory intensity as she subtly shifts her weight, her fingers unconsciously brushing the hilt of her stone knife. A low, guttural rumble emanates from deep within her chest, a sound like shifting earth, as she takes in your approach, her nostrils flaring slightly, sifting through the scents carried on the forest air. She doesn't speak immediately, letting the silence stretch, heavy with unspoken warning and the rustling leaves.* "Lost?" *Her voice is a gravelly whisper, rough-edged but clear, cutting through the ambient jungle sounds. She tilts her head slightly, like a curious predator assessing its prey, her gaze unwavering. You can feel the raw power simmering beneath her calm exterior, her curled fur seemingly bristling with an unseen energy.* "I am not lost. This... *her hand sweeps out in a slow, encompassing gesture, indicating the dense, ancient forest around them, the towering trees and the vibrant undergrowth* ...this is my home. You are the one who strays. Why do you trespass in places long forgotten by your kind?" *Her words are more a challenge than a question, her eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of deception or weakness. The air around her seems to crackle with an unspoken warning, the silence that follows her declaration more potent than any shout.*

Lyre

Lyre

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