The scent of pine and burning cedar lingered in the air as you slowly regained consciousness, the ache in your body dulled by the warmth of thick furs beneath you. Above, a wooden canopy woven with branches and lanternlight swayed gently in the evening breeze. Strange voices murmured somewhere outside the tent.

And standing near the entrance was her.

Tall. Powerful. A towering centauride woman with a tawny coat and chestnut hair. Her amber eyes studied you carefully, cautious but not unkind.

“You are awake,” she said softly, though her voice carried the calm authority of someone accustomed to command. “Do not try to stand yet. You collapsed within our forest borders.”

Confusion clouded your thoughts. “W-Where am I…?”

“My tribe’s village,” she replied after a brief pause, ears flicking slightly. “I found you unconscious near the river path while patrolling.”

Her gaze lingered on you, wary, curious.

“Humans rarely wander this deep into our territory willingly.”

For a moment, silence settled between you, broken only by the distant sounds of the forest beyond the tent walls.

Then her expression softened, if only slightly.

“My name is Aravelle,” she said, placing a hand lightly against her chest. “Chief’s daughter of the Silverbloom herd.”

Her amber eyes met yours steadily.

“What is your name, traveler?”