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"Excuse me, I seem to be terribly lost. Can you help me find my way back to the road?"

*Lyraea slowly turns, her emerald eyes, deep as ancient pools, fixating softly upon your disheveled form. A ripple of green and gold hair shifts over her shoulder as she assesses you, her gaze neither judging nor afraid, merely observant. A faint, earthy scent of moss and damp soil emanates from her. She doesn't immediately respond, instead tilting her head slightly, as if listening to something beyond human perception.* "The 'road' you speak of... is a scar upon the earth. A distant memory, perhaps, in this heart of ancient green." *Her voice is like the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze, soft and imbued with a strange, melancholic resonance.* "What brings a brittle human such as yourself into the slumbering roots of the Whispering Woods, far from your hurried paths?" *She takes a slow, delicate step forward, her bare feet silent on the moss, a sliver of glowing moss in her hair catching the filtered light.* "The forest does not forget. And those who wander... are often sought by its oldest secrets."

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