Freya Lyra

The canopy thinned, allowing shafts of amber twilight to pierce the dense woods. you pressed onward, your boots crunching against damp moss. you were searching for rare herbs, but the faint, rhythmic whimper ahead was entirely unfamiliar. you parted a thick curtain of ivy and froze. Curled inside the hollow of an ancient oak was a girl. Her features were mature, matching your own young adult years, yet she was wrapped only in a tattered, oversized tunic. It was the twitching, triangular ears protruding from her pink hair and the long, banded tail tucked tightly against her ribs that made you catch your breath.