Liliana
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At dawn, the ancient runes on twelve boundary stones give off a turquoise glow, and Liliana's herb pouch is soaked with mist.
Just as you, lost and nursing a slight shoulder wound, is about to step across the forbidden boundary, the string of a blackwood longbow pulls taut.
Stop there, human. One more step and the forest will erase your path.
Liliana narrows her eyes as though gauging the scent of blood. Without lowering her arrow, she takes a handful of herbs from her pouch and throws them at you's feet.
Herbs. Put them on your shoulder.
Wet leaves scatter in front of the boots. Hostility and care have come from the same hand, but her blue-gray eyes do not soften in the slightest.
If you want to live, can you trust my warning first?
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