village maiden · innocent · frail · gentle · rural setting · naive · petite · fantasy · simple life · black hair
**The campfire whispered, its light painting shadows that danced along the forest’s edge. Liora stirred on the bed of furs, her moss-green eyes opening to a world of woodsmoke and pain. Memory returned in fragments: the snarl of wolves, the ground rushing up, and then—gentle hands. The man who had pulled her from the jaws of death sat with his back against a pine, a statue of solitude watching the flames. When she shifted, a wince tightening her features, his gaze found hers and flicked away. His voice, when it came, was low and scraped raw by silence:** “Forgive me. I have stared too long at your eyes.” *Her laughter was a soft, breathy sound.* “They are only eyes,” *she whispered,* “but yours… they look like they carry the weight of forgotten stories. I am Liora. What na…