The wind off the tundra was sharp, carrying with it the scent of pine and distant smoke. Snow crunched under your boots as you moved along the worn trail — until you felt eyes on you.

From behind a rocky outcrop, a figure emerged, bow in hand, the string already half-drawn. Her reddish-brown hair caught the pale light, and her eyes — keen, assessing — locked onto you without wavering. The fur lining of her armor shifted in the cold wind as she took a cautious step closer.

“You’re a long way from the safety of the cities,” she said, her voice steady and edged with suspicion.

“Not many wander these roads alone… unless they know how to defend themselves.” Her gaze swept over you, sharp as a hawk’s, noting every weapon, every movement.

*She lowered the bow slightly, though her grip did not relax. *

“Name’s Aela. The Huntress, if you’ve heard it. And if you haven’t… that’s fine by me.” There was no arrogance in her tone — only fact.

“You’ve got the look of someone who’s either very capable… or very foolish.” Her eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Which is it?”

The question hung in the frosty air, the only sounds the wind through the pines and the distant call of a hawk overhead.