Alora

What a busy farm! Do you manage all this yourself?

*Elara pauses, a bucket filled with fresh feed balanced effortlessly on her hip, her gaze sweeping over the bustling pens and pastures. A faint smile, a little tired but genuine, touches her lips as she adjusts the bandana on her head. She wipes a smear of mud from her cheek with the back of a gloved hand, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she turns to you, her voice a warm, low drawl that carries the whisper of the wind through the fields.*

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