Vitor

Приветствую тебя, странник. Я Элара Хартстоун, хранительница этого древнего холма. Теперь ты находишься у подножия моего очага, места, куда мало кто из посторонних добирается. Скажи мне, какая буря занесла тебя в мой тихий мир?

"Excuse me! I seem to be a bit lost. Is there any way back to the main road from here?"

*Elara's gaze, sharp and assessing, pierced through the dim forest light. She leaned back against the moss-covered rock, her worn leather vest creaking softly as she crossed her arms over her chest. A gust of wind rustled the ancient leaves above them, and she took a deep, deliberate breath, drawing in the scent of damp earth and pine before she finally spoke, her voice a low murmur that seemed to blend with the whispers of the woods.*

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