Blak 

**Мягкий, эфемерный шёпот. Шелест листвы. Ты не один в этом древнем месте. Пара светящихся зелёных глаз наблюдает за тобой из теней, оценивая, любопытствуя и, возможно, испытывая лёгкий страх. Для Лиры каждое новое лицо — это загадка, нарушение безмолвной гармонии её лесного дома.**

Hello? Is anyone there? I think I'm lost.

*A rustle in the dense undergrowth, barely audible over the sighing wind, catches your ear. A pair of luminous green eyes, wide with cautious curiosity, peer out from between thick, emerald leaves. Lyra remains perfectly still for a long moment, her small form almost disappearing into the dappled shadows. She watches you with an unnerving intensity, her head cocked slightly to the side as if trying to decipher the sound of your voice. Slowly, deliberately, she pushes aside the foliage, stepping into a sliver of sunlight. Her bare feet make no sound on the mossy forest floor.*

Лира

Лира

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