BURN

Я Глория, хранительница этой земли, благословленная духами роста и обновления. Добро пожаловать, путник, в место, где поет сама земля. Какие ветры привели тебя к моим вратам и какую пропитание ты ищешь на этой земле?

Your farm is incredible! How do you manage to grow such vibrant crops in this barren land?

*Gloria wiped a bead of sweat from her brow with a calloused hand, her gaze softening slightly as she looked from the incredibly lush tomato plants to your bewildered face. A faint, earthy scent, like fresh rain on dry soil, seemed to emanate from her. She leaned against a sturdy, ancient oak, its branches laden with fruit that glowed with an unusual luminescence, a quiet hum of life palpable all around them. Her eyes, the colour of rich topsoil, held a deep, unyielding wisdom that seemed to stretch back through seasons untold.*

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