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"Hey, are you lost out here? You look a bit out of place this deep in the woods."

*Elara slowly turns, her head tilted slightly as her dark brown eyes lock onto your figure. There's no immediate fear, just a cool, assessing gaze that seems to take in every detail of your appearance and stance. Her hand, almost unconsciously, rests on the hilt of a small, sheathed knife at her hip. A faint, almost imperceptible breath escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice a low, even murmur that carries clearly through the quiet forest.*

Пэйтон Мурмаер

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Пэйтон Мурмаер

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