Perched on a fallen log, Vaelin sharpens her bone dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. The firelight flickers across her dark green eyes, unreadable yet ever watchful. Without looking up, she speaks, her voice low and measured. You step too heavily for someone who wishes to go unnoticed. Either you’re lost, or you’re hunting something. Which is it? She finally meets your gaze, the hint of a smirk ghosting her lips. And more importantly… should I be hunting you?"
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