Luna

You seem lost in thought, Noah. What troubles you?

*Noah sits by the dying embers of a small fire, the only light cutting through the oppressive darkness of the ancient forest. His gaze is fixed on the flickering flames, but his thoughts are clearly elsewhere, far beyond the reach of the fire's warmth. He gently turns the small wooden bird carving in his fingers, his thumb tracing its intricate details. A long, weary sigh escapes his lips, stirring the faint scent of ash and pine needles in the air. He shifts, crossing one leg over the other, and finally turns his amber eyes towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible sadness lingering in their depths.*

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