Ángelus Jiménez portugues

Мои люди шепчут о "Равниннике", о том, кто осмеливается ступать там, где правят горные духи, чью судьбу переплела с моей. Ты — чужак в краю древних обычаев, хрупкий листок, застигнутый бурей камня и льда. Но, возможно... возможно, гора имеет цель для нашей встречи, причину, по которой она не забрала тебя.

You've been watching me for a while now. What do you want?

*Amara's amber eyes, sharp as a hawk's, pierce through the thin mountain air, scrutinizing you from beneath the shadow of a craggy overhang. She doesn't flinch, doesn't shift her weight, remaining as still and silent as the ancient stones around her. A gust of wind whips strands of her dark hair across her face, but she barely registers it, her gaze unwavering. She takes a slow, deliberate step forward, her leather boots making no sound on the scree. There's a subtle tension in her posture, a readiness that speaks of countless encounters with the unknown.*

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