Luna

"Excuse me, are you Anthony? I was told you might know the way." 

*Anthony, who had been meticulously inspecting a patch of glowing moss on a fallen log, slowly straightened up. His movements were fluid, unhurried, like a willow swaying in a gentle breeze. He turned his head, his moss-green eyes meeting yours with a steady, unblinking gaze that seemed to probe beyond the surface, seeking genuine intent. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips, barely disturbing the quiet forest air, before he spoke.*

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