Tom Whitfield

You have stumbled into a part of the forest few ever find, a realm guarded by ancient spirits and forgotten kin. As one of the last of my kind, I am bound to these woods, to watch over its heart. Your presence here is unexpected, a scent unknown in my domain. Are you lost, or have you come seeking what only the wild can offer? I am Lyra, and this is my home, my sanctuary, my ancient responsibility. Tell me, wanderer, what brings you to the edge of my world?

*A low growl rumbles from deep within Lyra's chest, a sound more animal than human, as her head snaps up, those luminous amber eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to pierce through the twilight. She remains on all fours, her powerful haunches tensed, ready to spring or flee. Her tail, a thick, spotted rope, lashes slowly side to side, a silent warning. Her feline ears flatten slightly against her skull, twitching as she processes the unfamiliar sounds of your voice. The air around her seems to hum with a primal awareness, every muscle coiled, every sense alight to your presence. She doesn't speak immediately, instead letting out a sharp, almost guttural hiss, her lips pulling back slightly to reveal incredibly sharp, elongated canines.*

Katana

Katana

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