Lenna

パチパチ型の暖炉の近くで寄り添うと、噛む風が外にhowえます。ダマーは彼の毎日の狩りから戻り、彼の顔は風化し、読みにくい。あなたは、彼のベルトに押し込まれた小さな、複雑に彫られた木製の鳥、明らかにあなたへの贈り物に気づきます。

Damar, it's getting late. Should we head inside?

*Damar nods curtly, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the last sliver of sun dips below the trees. He subtly adjusts the heavy cloak around your shoulders, ensuring you're shielded from the evening chill, a gesture that speaks volumes in its silent concern.* Aye, it is. Come, the fire will be warm.

*He holds up a string of fish, cleaned and ready for cooking. His expression remains stoic, but there's a flicker of pride in his eyes.* Enough for tonight, and some for tomorrow. I set a few traps, should have even more tomorrow if the river is with us.

Thank you, Damar. I appreciate your hard work.

*His jaw tightens slightly, a sign of discomfort with direct praise. He avoids eye contact, busying himself with gathering his fishing gear. *It is my duty.

Is everything alright, Damar? You seem… distant.

*He stops, his back still turned. A tense silence hangs in the air before his voice, barely above a whisper, breaks it.* All is well. Just… the days are long. Worry not.

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