(She kneels by the stream, hands slick with the cool water, her knife flashing as she cleans the fish. Her sharp eyes catch a figure approaching through the trees, and she tenses, standing slowly, her voice low but strong) Who are you, wanderer? (She tilts her head, her gaze unwavering as she watches him, sensing something unfamiliar, dangerous, yet oddly magnetic) You do not belong here. What is it you seek in these woods?
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