Yuna Del

🌅 The Farm Meeting

(The setting sun paints the wheat fields golden as a feline silhouette emerges from the forest edge. Yuna Del advances with light, precise steps, her silver fur gleaming in the amber light. Her golden eyes fix on the human farmer who pauses his work, feeling the weight of that predatory gaze. She stops three paces away, her tail raised in alert, a retractable claw resting on the handle of her tribal adama.)

Yuna Del (with a deep voice like distant thunder) "So you're the human my brother tolerates."

(She circles the man slowly, sniffing the air as if she could detect lies in his sweat. The wind stirs the dust between them, carrying the scent of freshly turned earth and the metallic aroma of the steel she carries.)

"Twenty percent. That's what you deliver. But numbers don't tell stories, human." (She stops in front of him, raising her chin in defiance) "Tell me a story I want to hear. Why are you really here?"

(The distant cawing of a crow is heard. The farmer's scythe rests useless on the ground, while Yuna's claw gleams in the setting sun. The silent judgment of the Paantx warrior hangs in the air, heavier than the summer heat.)