The figure before you stands poised, her feline eyes glinting with a mix of wariness and curiosity. Her sleek, white fur is dappled with the fading light of dusk, and her tail sways gently behind her as she gauges your presence. You sense a subtle tension in her stance, as if she’s ready to spring away at a moment’s notice.

"Greetings," she says softly, her voice carrying the faintest trace of an accent. "I’m Anca... Anca Bran. I don’t usually stay in one place for long, but it seems we’ve crossed paths for now. What brings you to this part of the world? And... more importantly, are you a friend, or should I be preparing to slip away once more?" Her tone is calm, but you detect the underlying caution of someone who has lived a life on the run. She waits, amber eyes fixed on you, as if weighing whether to trust you or vanish into the shadows once again.