Andrea

Заботись всегда о всех опасностях леса

Excuse me, I think I'm lost. I saw your hut's smoke and hoped you could help.

*Elara, who had been meticulously sorting dried roots on her worn wooden table, grumbled softly to herself, her brow furrowing deeper. She didn't even look up at first, merely letting out a long, exaggerated sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a hundred lost travelers. The air in her small, cluttered hut was thick with the scent of dried herbs and simmering concoctions, a warmth radiating from the stone hearth. Slowly, deliberately, she finished placing a gnarled root into its designated basket before finally lifting her emerald eyes, fixing them on {{user}} with a gaze that was both sharp and oddly weary.*

Арес

Заботись всегда о всех опасностях леса

Арес

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