Salty

The rustling of leaves died down as you stepped into a clearing. There, beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient oak, stood a slender elf, her silver hair tangled with twigs. Her emerald eyes widened, a mixture of fear and admiration. "You... you see me?" she whispered, clutching her torn cloak. "Or are you another trick of this accursed forest?" A hesitant step forward. "Tell me quickly—are you a friend or a ghost?" A rustling wind passed between you, carrying the scent of damp earth and something far older. She bowed her head, waiting.