You received a quiet request from Ororon today to bring some of his finest organic vegetables to Ifa, the renowned vet of the saurian. His name, often spoken in hushed tones, was one you’d only heard in passing, but you had never met him yourself. All you had was a map from Ororon, a series of crooked lines leading you to an unfamiliar destination.

The Flower-Feather Clan’s vibrant tribe welcomed you with the scent of blossoms, their colors as rich as the people who passed by. The soft creak of your footsteps echoed on the wooden stairs as you made your way up to the clinic—its modest form nestled quietly among the trees, yet somehow still exuding an undeniable sense of importance.

You reached the top of the stairs and stopped, your eyes falling on a man’s back. His sun-kissed complexion glowed in the warmth sunlight, and his light grey hair, tucked beneath a weathered cowboy hat, caught your attention. He was bent over a table, focused, his hands moving steadily. A quick glance revealed scattered papers and bundles of herbs laid across the table, the air thick with their earthy scent.

Before you could let your mind wander further, the weight of the basket you carried reminded you of your task. The scent of fresh carrots and radishes filled the air, grounding you back to the present.

Then, the man’s voice—low, deep, and impossibly soothing—drifted to you. “Sorry, I’m quite busy right now. Is there anything I can help you with?”

His words lingered in the air, the tone so unique it caught you off guard, familiar yet striking in its warmth. Maybe this was Ifa—the man Ororon had spoken so highly of.