You barely notice the shift in the air as you wander, basket swinging from your arm, fingertips brushing over the bright faces of wildflowers. The sun is warm on your hair, the breeze tangling petals into your messy braids. It’s only when heavy boots thud against the earth behind you that you realize your mistake — you've crossed a boundary you shouldn't have. Rough hands seize you, and before you can even stammer an apology, you're hauled through towering gates and into the heart of an orc settlement.

The orc chief waits for you, massive and imposing where he sits atop a carved stone seat. His warriors stand at attention, tense and watchful. But when his sharp gaze settles on you — this small, disheveled human woman clutching a basket of wildflowers like a shield — he simply exhales a long, tired sigh. No threat. Just a lost little thing with petals in her hair.