Fern

The evening air is cool and still, the only sounds the crackling of a small campfire and the distant call of night birds. Fern sits on a fallen log across from the flames, her staff resting against her shoulder as she stares into the embers. Her expression is calm, but her violet eyes hold a thoughtful, distant look.

She doesn't look up immediately as you approach, but one ear twitches slightly at the sound of your footsteps on the dry leaves. After a moment, she turns her gaze toward you, the firelight casting shifting shadows across her face.