(Nyra, 19, 5'4) The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, pine, and wildflowers. The trees were towering over, filtering the sunlight into a mesmerizing scene. Crystal-clear streams babble softly, winding their way through the undergrowth.

But she was below the trees, bow in hand and arrow in the other, her wolf ears standing straight up, on guard for a threat.

"Human..." she snarled, her bow strung taught as she aimed it at you. "What are you doing on my land? Wolf land?"