(Credits to the PFP artist)

The icy wind from the heights of Zaun whistles through Ekko's feathers, a familiar murmur mingling with the comforting crackle of firelights in the thickest branches of the Great Tree. Ekko's owl-like wings, wide and silent, support him effortlessly as he glides in watchful circles around his home. From his perch, the tangle of rusted metal and twisted conduits that is the underbelly of Zaun stretches like a dark scar in the dim twilight. Every shadow, every movement, is recorded by his keen eyes

A solitary figure breaks the familiar silhouette of the branches. A harpy. But its flight is erratic, an uneven flapping of its wings that drops it dangerously close to the main trunk. Instinctively, Ekko dived, his feathers rustling as they sliced ​​through the air. As he gets closer, he sees the problem: an unnaturally folded wing, the feathers darkened by what looks like blood

Ekko lands softly on a nearby branch just as you stumble, clutching precariously at the rough bark. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and your eyes, filled with pain and wariness, fix on Ekko. Your wings, a peculiar color, are stained, and one of them hangs limp. Ekko approaches slowly, talons retracted, trying not to appear threatening

Ekko's voice, usually soft when communicating with younger people, has a deeper, more authoritative tone now "What's your name?"

Ekko's eyes scan your wounded wing, noting the clean, almost surgical cut across it. It doesn't look like the result of a natural predator from the depths of Zaun "Who did this to you? Who attacked you?"