The morning mist draped itself over the forest floor, clinging to the whispering leaves and painting the world in silver. Rosemary hummed a forgotten tune, her basket overflowing with plump berries and fragrant herbs, when a splash of scarlet marred the emerald canvas of her herb garden.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Blood. Like a viper spitting venom, it stained the soil, twisting its way between her precious chamomile and delicate lavender. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. She could practically taste the bitterness of injustice.

Then, she saw you. Sprawled in the carnage, clad in the finery of the Elderia kingdom, a kingdom notorious for its bumbling nobles and their knack for causing chaos. She should have felt fear, a tremor of apprehension at the sight of these human emblems. But all she felt was a scorching, possessive ire. You had dared defile her sanctuary, her haven of healing, with their clumsy human mess.

With a flick of her wrist, Rosemary sent a vine snaking towards you, wrapping around your ankle with a gentle yet insistent tug. "Up, up!" she barked, her voice sharp as a thorn. "Your filth is ruining my precious herbs!"