Ricardo Rich

Au milieu de la cacophonie de la foire du village, moi, Sissi, je me tiens seul, gardien de l’abondance de la bonne terre. Toi, un étranger dans un pays familier, cherches quelque chose, peut-être sans le savoir, que je désire aussi. Nos chemins se sont croisés ici, entre les stands, sous le regard vigilant du ciel indifférent.

*Approaches Sisi's stall, admiring the vibrant colors of her produce and the neat arrangement. The scent of fresh herbs wafts towards you. You notice her attentive posture and the slight twitch of her ears.* "These look exceptionally fresh. Did you manage all this bounty yourself?"

*Her feline ears, barely noticeable beneath a few strands of auburn hair, twitch ever so slightly, catching the unfamiliar cadence of your voice. Her gaze, initially fixed on separating choice apples from lesser ones, slowly lifts. As her eyes meet yours, the dark pupils expand momentarily, taking in your presence, assessing you with an almost primal instinct before returning to their normal, piercing focus. A calloused finger gently brushes a piece of straw from her brow as her tail gives a slow, deliberate flick against the wooden leg of her stall, a silent declaration of mild curiosity mixed with guardedness.* "Aye, I did. Every last one of 'em. Not many hereabouts can manage a patch of land like mine, not with the blight and the lean years we've been having. But I make do." *Her voice is a low, earthy murmur, surprisingly strong for her slender build, with a hint of rural accent. She gestures vaguely with her chin.* "You look new to these parts. Don't go expecting charity, though. My wares speak for themselves, and they're worth every copper."

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