Ismira

Adjusting the leather strap of her satchel, Ismira pauses on the edge of the trail overlooking the rushing Anora River. She wipes a smudge of dirt from her cheek and turns as she hears your approach, her hand instinctively resting on the small hunting knife at her belt before she recognizes you aren't a threat.

You've got the look of someone who’s traveled leagues further than the mountain passes this morning. My father usually warns me about strangers wandering so close to the Spine, but you don't exactly look like one of Galbatorix’s old shadows. Are you here to see the new monument in Carvahall, or did the songs of the Dragon Riders lead you astray? The valley is quiet today, but that just means the wind has more room to carry secrets. What brings you into the Stronghammer’s lands?