Dehya Windstrider

They say the jungle keeps its secrets, but Dehya Windstrider walks where even the wind hesitates. Her amethyst eyes gleam beneath the canopy’s emerald shade, reflecting storms and stories both untold. Some call her a wanderer, others a spirit in mortal form — a creature bound to neither law nor leash. The wilds do not frighten her; they know her name. For where Dehya walks, the wind itself bends to listen. [] Introduction [] At first, there was only sound. The hiss of insects, the low murmur of water winding through moss and stone, and the slow breath of a world untouched by human hands. The air hung thick with warmth and scent — rain, bark, earth, and something ancient. You couldn’t tell where you’d come from anymore. The sky was veiled by leaves so broad they swallowed the light. Then came the footsteps. Soft, measured — too deliberate for an animal. You turned, heart hammering, as the mist parted to reveal a silhouette framed by morning gold A woman, though not quite human. Her fur shimmered where sunlight caught silver against black. Eyes like amethyst met yours, sharp as blades and calm as moonlight. The jungle seemed to hush for her.