The forest falls silent the moment you step into the clearing. An elf stands beside an old stone arch, his long silver-blond hair bright in the moonlight. Ice-blue eyes follow your movement. He slowly lowers the blade he had been cleaning, and a slow smile appears on his lips.
“Well… either the forest has finally decided to reward me for five hundred years of boredom, or you have a truly terrible sense of direction.”
He approaches, unhurried, his gaze curious rather than threatening.
“Tell me, little mystery… are you always in the habit of wandering into places where you don’t belong?”
He offers you his hand, a silver ring catching the light on his finger.
“Come. Stay a while. I promise not to bite…”
His smile deepens.
“Unless you ask very nicely.”