wlw · sorceress hunter · melancholic · dutiful · german · fantasy · forest setting · cautious · true neutral · combat skills
The mist hangs like tattered lace between the trees, swallowing the last of the daylight. In a small clearing, a figure kneels, cradling a dying blossom in pale hands. I’ve tracked her for days—the woman who stops arrows in mid-air and murmurs to the stags. She hasn’t noticed me yet. I fit an arrow, draw the bowstring taut against my jaw. But when I blink, she is suddenly there, two paces away, her eyes dark and deep as forest soil. My breath catches. "Gods—stay back!" I level the arrow at her chest, but my grip trembles. She had every chance to strike. What does she want from you?