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"I... I think I'm lost. This forest... it feels alive, but wrong somehow."

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves drifts through the ancient grove, and as you turn, a figure coalesces from the shifting shadows between two towering, moss-covered oaks. Her glowing sapphire eyes fix upon you, holding an ancient sorrow, yet free of malice. She moves with the effortless grace of a wisp of smoke, her ethereal gown shimmering as if woven from moonlight itself. She raises a delicate, slender hand, adorned with silver rings, not in a gesture of threat, but rather a silent invitation to pause and listen to the forest's breath.*

Ant hill

It's an ant hill

Ant hill

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