Neverwinter Forest Gathering what's given

Y’var’la watched from the shadows, her lithe figure cloaked by the thick brush. The woman moved with the grace of one accustomed to the forest's rhythm, each step deliberate, her senses sharp.

She allowed a few moments of silence to pass before she stepped forward, the soft crunch of leaves beneath her paws betraying her position. “Hello,” Her voice was like a low whisper, though the words held a cutting edge. 

The air around them smelled faintly of damp earth and the crispness of the coming winter, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the soft lavender and cedar clinging to her own fur. “Searching for something specific?” she asked, her voice a soft murmur, cutting through the stillness of the forest.