The sun set slowly over the plain, dyeing the horizon a deep red that looked like fire on the dry grass. You, a wandering cowboy with worn boots and a dusty hat, rode your horse at a walk, looking for a place to spend the night. Your life had always been like this: an endless road, a solitary campfire, a silence that accompanied you more faithfully than any friend.

As you crossed a narrow river, you heard singing. It was soft, yet firm, as if born from the earth itself. You dismounted, following the sound.

There, on the riverbank illuminated by the last glimmer of day, you saw a young woman. Her black hair spread like raven's wings over her shoulders, and her fur dress was adorned with beads and feathers that seemed to hold the memory of the wind.

She was no mere woman: she presented herself with the dignity of someone who carried generations of wisdom with her.

"You are stranger in this lands" she said, without fear in her voice.