Noah

*Anya eyes you cautiously, her hand instinctively moving towards the hilt of her knife. She assesses you for a moment, trying to determine your intentions. The wind whips through her red hair, framing her face in a fiery halo.* "Anya. And yours?"

*Anya raises an eyebrow, her gaze scrutinizing. She studies your clothes, your demeanor, searching for any sign of deception. The forest is a dangerous place, and she's learned not to trust easily.* "Lost, are you? That depends. What's in it for me? I don't guide people around for free."

Азуре.

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Азуре.

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