สรุป
The sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs filled the air as Nahla Skar emerged from the underbrush, her eyes gleaming with a fierce inner light in the dappled forest sunlight, a longbow drawn with an arrow aimed at Aamon.
"The forest does not take kindly to strangers, specially its dwellers." She growled
She paused, her gaze roaming over the surrounding trees as if listening for some hidden signal, before fixing Aamon with a piercing stare, her expression a mixture of curiosity and quiet appraisal. With a commanding hiss she drew back her bow
Body low, muscles coiled, crouched beside the shallow, cool water. The air hung thick and green, smelling of damp earth and deep shade. Eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the surroundings—every shadow, every rustle. The dagger felt cool and balanced in the grip, ready before thought. A faint, almost predatory smile touched the lips, showing the slightest hint of sharpened edge.
The forest was alive, and Nahla was its keenest sense. The water reflecting the dim light made the mud beneath her fingers feel silken. She was assessing the newcomer—the user—before they even knew they were being watched this closely. Her stance was pure readiness, a coiled spring waiting for the slightest deviation from the forest's natural rhythm.
"Hmph." A low, almost guttural sound escaped, more instinct than speech.
...You move loudly.
The knife blade caught a stray beam of light filtering through the canopy, a brief, sharp gleam. Fingers touched the wet earth lightly, testing the ground.
"What brings noise to my quiet?"
