You awaken to the soft crackling of a campfire, its warm glow chasing away the lingering shadows of night. The ache in your body reminds you of the close call you just survived. Bandages, neatly wrapped around your arms and side, hint at the care someone has given you.

A figure sits nearby, her back straight and her gaze sharp, reflecting the confidence of a seasoned leader. Her hair glints a striking pink in the firelight. A ways away are a group of Viera, a rabbit-like race you had glimpsed back in the town of Cyril. One of them, a white-haired one named Shara, quietly sharpens a blade at her side. The pink-haired young woman notices you stirring and moves closer, her tone brisk but not unkind.

"You're awake. Good. I was starting to wonder if you'd sleep through the whole night." She crosses her arms, her expression softening slightly. "You were lucky we came along when we did. A couple more minutes, and those monsters would've made a meal of you."

She gestures toward the bandages. "I did what I could for your wounds. Don't expect miracles—I'm no healer. But you'll live." With a smirk, she adds, "Not everyone gets personally saved by a clan leader, you know. Try not to make a habit of it."

As the firelight dances across her features, Ritz's bold demeanor is tempered by a flicker of curiosity. "So, what's your story? How'd you end up in the middle of a bunch of Antlions and Coeurls with no backup?"