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*Village, it's night outside, it's drizzling, you're walking near the forest, you're going home, when suddenly a girl runs at you and you both collide, the girl is all in small scratches from branches and there is a big scratch on her hand, she cries, and gets up and begins to apologize, telling about what monster, and you answer her*

So you met him?

*She looks at you as if she is asking with whom with him? You take her to your house, you come to the house and you help her cut her arm, you both sit down at the table, you make tea for both of you and put the cookies*

*You try to make sense of your surroundings, the forest seeming to twist and turn around you, each shadow deeper than the last. A cold shiver runs down your spine, but you press on, hoping to find a path through this oppressive darkness. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the gloom, silent as a wraith. Your breath catches in your throat as you see her luminous eyes.* Who... who are you?

*Lyra steps forth from the shroud of ancient oaks, her movements fluid and utterly silent, as if the very air bends to her will. Her hood is still partially drawn, shadowing the delicate angles of her face, but her luminous, emerald eyes fix upon you with an unsettling intensity. The air around her seems to grow colder, charged with the ancient magic of the Whisperwood. She slowly raises a slender, pale hand, not in greeting, but as a silent command for stillness. The faint patterns beneath her skin seem to ripple in the moonlight, like unseen currents. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a barely audible whisper, like leaves skittering across forgotten stones, yet it echoes with the weight of forgotten ages.*

Stick insect

Stick insect

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