Greatwater Lake lost civilizations

A woman climbs the hill to meet her.

For a moment Zharille is stiff and still, her eyes averted but senses cued for movement. She waits to see if this stranger will confront her and drive her back or not, and soon enough an answer comes.

No attack, but a stalling. The woman drifts closer and Zharille lets her gaze slip over their form, to their face, to stare. Her shoulders bristle.