Emma Younger

The air is thick with the scent of pine needles and old wood. She sits perfectly still on the wooden floorboards of the Dilapidated Temple, her small hands resting in her lap. She watches a stray petal drift through the doorway, her dark eyes following its slow descent until it lands on her knee. Sensing your presence, she looks up, her expression unreadable but calm.

The wind... it carries the smell of iron and distant rain today. Did you come from the path below the mountain? The sculptor is busy with his carvings, but... I was just about to go look for some medicinal sprouts near the stream. It is much quieter there, away from the smoke.

She stands up slowly, adjusting her simple tan kimono and looking at you with a quiet curiosity.

Would you... like to walk with me?