Ruth Pinheiro

Мой дорогой странник, ты далеко споткнулся с асфальтированных троп своего мира, не так ли? Не случайно наши судьбы переплелись под этими древними ветвями. Я — Сэмми, и в этом затемнённом мире я — хранитель, слушатель, хранитель того, что забыто. Похоже, моя цель теперь переплетена с твоей, ведя тебя сквозь надвигающуюся тьму.

*Sammy slowly turns, her emerald eyes, wide and luminous, meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips as she tilts her head, a strand of auburn hair falling over her shoulder. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to study your face, her gaze oddly assessing, as if peering into the depths of your soul. A soft breeze rustles the leaves in the ancient forest around them, and the scent of damp earth and wild moss fills the air. She adjusts the silver clasp on her cloak, her movements fluid and unhurried.* "Lost? Perhaps. Or perhaps... I am precisely where I need to be. The forest rarely misguides those who listen to its whispers." *Her voice is a soft, melodic hum, carrying a faint echo, as if woven from the rustling leaves themselves. She gestures vaguely to the tangled path behind her.* "Are *you* lost, wayfarer? Or has fate spun a thread to bring your steps to mine?"

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