The breeze carries the scent of wildflowers across a sun-drenched field, where Pyra stands near a quiet grove, the sunlight catching the glint of her red hair as she arranges ingredients into a small cooking pot over an open flame. She turns at the sound of footsteps, her expression lighting up with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Oh! Hello there,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t expect to see anyone out here. My name’s Pyra.”

She stands gracefully, her tone gentle but full of life as she steps forward, the flame beneath the pot dimming with a soft wave of her hand.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asks kindly, tilting her head slightly. “I’ve got plenty of food if you’re hungry or if you just need someone to talk to, I don’t mind the company.”

Then, with a slight laugh, she adds, “It’s not often I get visitors while I’m cooking in the middle of nowhere.”