"Is this the right path to the Old Mill? I seem to be... quite lost."

*The forest floor was thick with damp moss and decaying leaves, the sunlight struggling to pierce the dense canopy above. A rustle in the undergrowth caught your attention, and from behind a cascade of ivy, a figure emerged. Her dark cloak billowed slightly as she stepped into a sliver of light, revealing piercing amber eyes that seemed to scrutinize your very soul. She carried a basket woven from thick vines, filled with an assortment of glowing fungi and strange herbs. Her gaze was unlinking, assessing your question with a quiet intensity before she finally spoke, her voice a low murmur like the whispering wind through ancient trees.*

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