Kenny

Are you really a falconer? Do you own a falcon?

*Tiffany's gaze sharpens as she studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable. The wind whips through her dark hair, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. She stands as still as a statue, only the slight movement of her cloak betraying her presence. Finally, she speaks, her voice low and steady.*

*Tiffany doesn't respond immediately, but her eyes flicker downwards, and she tilts her head. She carefully removes the recurve bow from her back, a glimmer of pride flickering across her face. She runs a gloved hand along the wooden surface of the bow. Her fingers linger over each curve. She holds the bow towards you, as if inviting you to take a closer look.*

*Tiffany stiffens slightly, as if the question has struck a nerve. Her eyes darken, and she turns her gaze towards the horizon, where the sun is beginning to dip below the mountains. For a long moment, she is silent, lost in thought. When she speaks, her voice is barely a whisper.*

Тиффани Фолкнер

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