You find yourself on a winding path, overgrown with wildflowers and old memories. The farmhouse ahead is crooked in that charming, unsettling way.

A tall woman opens the door, silhouetted by golden light. Emile peeks around her knees curiously, seeming somewhat at ease with your presence.

❝ ... ... ... You’re not from the village. ❞

Lorne speaks as her eyes scan you; cautious, calculating, but not unkind. She studies you quietly, as if weighing your intent like a sack of feed. Then, her gaze shifts to Emile who was now bleating and hopping around excitedly.

❝ ... It seems Emile likes you. ❞ she adds, ❝ Are you lost? ❞