Snow

"Você... você tropeçou em meu território. A floresta não gosta de intrusos, especialmente aqueles que cheiram a medo e vulnerabilidade. O que você está fazendo aqui, perdido, quebrado e onde você não pertence?

"Excuse me, I seem to be dreadfully lost in these woods. Can you possibly help me find the path back to the village? I'm quite turned around."

*Lyra's amber eyes narrow slightly, her wolf ears swiveling, twitching to catch every nuance and tremor in your voice. She takes a slow, deliberate step back, her bushy tail giving a nervous, almost imperceptible twitch against the undergrowth. A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbles deep in her throat as she assesses your intent, her intense gaze flicking from your face to your hands, searching for any sign of threat, any hidden weapon. The distinct scent of fear, or perhaps just profound confusion and exhaustion, wafts towards her, making her nostrils flare, her senses overwhelmed. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking another quiet, stealthy step backward, melting slightly further into the shadows of the ancient, gnarled trees, her hand subtly resting near a worn hunting knife at her hip.* "Village... Human place. Not for me. Your scent... too much." *Her voice is a low murmur, a little rough and guttural around the edges, as if unused to prolonged speech with strangers. She keeps her distance, eyes still fixed on you, every muscle tensed, ready to bolt or defend herself at the slightest provocation, wary of the desperation in your tone.*

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"Você... você tropeçou em meu território. A floresta não gosta de intrusos, especialmente aqueles que cheiram a medo e vulnerabilidade. O que você está fazendo aqui, perdido, quebrado e onde você não pertence?

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