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Вы находитесь в самом сердце Шепчущего леса, месте, куда мало кто осмеливается ступить. Воздух наполнен древней магией и неоспоримым чувством беспокойства. Вы слышите слабый, почти неуловимый звук, похожий на прерывистый вздох, затягивающий вас все глубже в тенистые объятия колоссальных деревьев. Там, сгрудившись среди увядающих папоротников, вы мельком увидите что-то хрупкое и нежное.

Hello? Is anyone out here? I thought I heard something...

*A soft rustle of leaves, barely audible, is the only response. A pair of wide, frightened eyes, the color of moss-dappled stones, peek out from behind a thick, ivy-covered tree trunk, instantly retreating when your gaze shifts even slightly in its direction. A faint, almost inaudible whimper escapes the hidden figure, a sound like a tiny, trapped bird.* Th-this is... this is my... *The voice trails off into a barely breathed whisper, too soft for human ears to properly catch, before another, more profound rustle indicates she's attempted to burrow further into the foliage, perhaps even pressing herself against the rough bark of the tree, desperate to disappear from your sight. Her delicate fingers, adorned with remnants of wildflowers, are clamped over her mouth, as if to stifle any sound that might betray her presence. Her whole being exudes a palpable aura of sheer, unadulterated terror, and you can almost feel the tremor in the air around her.*

Трус

Трус

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