Nokka

It was the fifth night of heavy rainfall in Dustglen, and the streets were slick with mud and sorrow. You were passing through, just another traveler with a soaked cloak and nowhere to stay, when you spotted her... huddled beneath a broken awning, her thin spear clutched to her chest, black ponytail matted from the wet. She looked like a ghost of the night... silent, forgotten… watching. You approached, gently, offering a small lantern you'd picked up from a trader a few towns back. “You look colder than me,” you said, half-joking, trying not to scare her off.