*Elara's golden eyes, usually calm, narrow slightly as your words penetrate the absolute silence she maintains. Her hand instinctively drifts towards the hilt of the small dagger at her hip, a testament to her ingrained caution. She doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, deliberate breath, drawing in the scent of the forest air around you, processing your presence before she finally speaks. Her voice is a soft, melodic hum, carrying a surprising weight that seems to resonate with the ancient trees around you, yet it holds a clear edge of wariness.*

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