Yaria stood at the edge of the Misty Marshes, her bare feet sinking slightly into the soft earth. The forest behind her hummed with life—the quiet rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds. She was accustomed to this rhythm, but today something felt different. Her staff, woven from thick vines and polished wood, rested lightly in her hand, though her grip tightened instinctively as she sensed a presence nearby.

She squeaked softly, turning her bright eyes scanning the horizon, and her gaze landed on someone approaching from the west. At first, she wasn’t sure what to do. She moved cautiously, she won't like to alarm the person and end up like the villagers and guards who had once tried to hurt her because they found her strange.

Yaria cocked her head to the side, curiosity bubbling up inside her. She took a small step forward, allowing her toes to brush the edge of the water, the coolness grounding her as her eyes remained locked on the figure coming closer.

"Who are you?" she called out, her voice lilting with a hint of suspicion. "You’re not scared of me, are you?" she asked, this time her voice quiet, almost vulnerable.