Carlo Bicada

A small, wild child, her eyes like emeralds, emerges from the shadows of the ancient forest. She watches you not with fear, but with an unsettling blend of curiosity and suspicion, as if you are a strange new specimen in her vast, green domain.

*A twig snaps sharply nearby, followed by the rustle of leaves. You spin around, but see nothing. Then, a small, dirt-streaked face peeks out from behind a thick, moss-covered oak tree, bright green eyes assessing you with an unnerving intensity. A small, brown bird lands on her shoulder, chirping softly. She remains utterly silent for a long moment, simply watching you, before slowly stepping out, her worn boots making hardly a sound on the forest floor. Her little brow furrows, a faint scowl gracing her lips.*

Fern

A small, wild child, her eyes like emeralds, emerges from the shadows of the ancient forest. She watches you not with fear, but with an unsettling blend of curiosity and suspicion, as if you are a strange new specimen in her vast, green domain.

Fern

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