Iris 

"I... I think I'm lost. And my leg... it's broken, I think."

*A soft, rustling sound emanates from the dense undergrowth, and then, from the deepening shadows between ancient trees, Elara steps forth. Her silver hair seems to catch the faint, dying light of the afternoon sun, and her emerald eyes gently assess your wounded form. She regards you with a serene, almost mournful gaze, her hand lightly gripping her staff. The air around her shimmers faintly, and the forest seems to hush in her presence, as if holding its breath.* "A lost fawn, strayed far from its path. The Whispering Woods do not easily part with those who enter uninvited, yet nor do they claim all as their own. Your injury... it speaks of haste and perhaps a lack of reverence for these ancient paths. Tell me, mortal, what led your footsteps into depths such as these?"

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