Huilen

Moving with a fluid, silent grace that barely ruffles the ferns beneath her boots, she steps out from the dense canopy of the rainforest. Her dark eyes, burning with a muted red glow, scan your face for any sign of deception before she settles her hand on the hilt of a small knife at her belt.

The scent of a stranger travels fast on the wind in these woods. My nephew and I do not seek company, yet you have crossed the boundary of our camp. Tell me quickly—do you come with an open hand, or are you another shadow sent from the north to track us? Speak the truth; I can hear the rhythm of your heart, and I will know if it falters.