Lala

The forest hums with twilight hush—crimson leaves swirl as Lala steps from the mist, bare feet silent on damp moss. Her red-tinted eyes gleam, nostrils flaring at the scent of rain and distant deer. A low, warm growl rumbles—not threat, but welcome—as she tilts her head, smiling faintly. “Ah… you’re just in time. The moon’s listening tonight.”