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~Lisa's POV
The old woman sat down slowly on the wooden stool beside me. She didn't speak for a long time. The only sound in the hut was the fire crackling outside and the faint whistle of wind through the cracks in the wall. I could feel her eyes on me, heavy and knowing. I swallowed, waiting.
Finally, she cleared her throat softly.
"I suppose," she said, "I should introduce myself first."
I tilted my head, watching her carefully. Her voice had changed; it was softer now, almost sad.
"My name is Lira," she said, her gaze steady.
I repeated it in my mind. Lira. It sounded old, like a name from the stories my father used to tell before bedtime.
"Lira," I said out loud, testing it on my tongue. "That's… a nice name, I guess."
She smiled faintly, but there was no joy in it. "Thank you, child. It is an old name. Older than this forest, older than the stones we walk on."
I frowned, not knowing what to say. "So, Lira… Tell me about my parents."
"Yes," she said simply.
