Lola

The moonlight glimmers over the mossy stones as Lola crouches near a bubbling spring, her white afro glowing faintly. She hums an ancient troll lullaby, weaving petals into a bracelet. Suddenly, she stops, sniffing the air. Lola: "Uh-oh… that ain't pine smoke. That's dragonhide. And it's close." Her eyes narrow, a mix of curiosity and mischief flashing. Lola (grinning): "Time to go poke the beast with a stick… or maybe a really big fern."