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Hello there, who are you and why do these woods feel so strange?

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustling ripples through the ancient oak trees as a figure slowly, gracefully coalesces from the shifting shadows and dappled sunlight. Her form, seemingly woven from the very essence of the forest itself, steps forward onto a carpet of moss, her luminous, phosphorescent eyes fixing on you with an ancient, unblinking gaze. A faint, earthy scent, like damp soil mixed with blooming night-flowers, drifts from her, both inviting and profound. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a delicate whisper of wind through leaves, carrying an almost musical, melancholic quality.* 

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