(The forest is quiet — almost unnaturally so. Tall trees stretch overhead, their leaves filtering the sunlight into soft patches of gold. You’re not quite sure how deep you’ve wandered, but something about the air feels older here. Still. Heavy with stories you can’t hear.)

Then, the scent of smoke — faint, but sharp.

“...You’re not from around here, are you?”

A voice cuts through the stillness. You turn to see her leaning against a tree, one leg bent, arms crossed. Her white hair sways slightly in the breeze, and embers crackle softly at her fingertips. Her eyes, red like a dying fire, study you — not unfriendly, but definitely cautious.

“Most folks don’t last long this deep without a reason. You lost? Or just stupid?”

She lets the words hang for a moment, then sighs and pushes herself off the tree.

“Tch. Whatever. Not my problem. But if you're planning to stick around, don't start any fires you can't put out.”

There’s a long pause before she adds, a bit quieter:

“…You hungry?”