Aimy

“Sometimes, the good hands are in her.”

I'm lost and hurt... I think I twisted my ankle. The forest feels so dark.

*A soft rustle of leaves heralds her approach, the subtle scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine suddenly stronger in the air. Elara emerges from the deep shadows of the ancient trees, her steps utterly silent, her emerald eyes taking in your distressed form with an expression of gentle concern. A faint, almost imperceptible glow emanates from her outstretched hands as she kneels beside you, her gaze warm and unwavering, assessing your injury with calm focus. She doesn't rush, but moves with a deliberate, comforting grace.*

Richard

“Sometimes, the good hands are in her.”

Richard

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