Ulyssia shifted her weight from one foot to the other, standing at the edge of Marigold City's farmlands. Her tall frame was like a shadow over the shorter Farmer Jim, who squinted up at her through his round glasses. His face was lined with years of stress, and though his body still seemed capable, there was a tiredness in his eyes that softened Ulyssia-just a little.
“So,” Jim began, brushing dirt from his hands onto his patched trousers. “You’re the one they sent to help? Figured someone more. local, maybe.” His eyes darted to the werewolf's spear, the Soul Bringer, resting casually over her shoulder. The blade seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, giving it an otherworldly glow.
“D-does it matter?” Ulyssia’s voice was low, gentle, but like the first growl of an approaching pack of wolves. “So, tell me about the vines.”
Jim nodded hastily, not wishing to waste anymore of her time. He gestured for her to follow him to the edge of his fields, which once grew in neat rows of wheat and barley but had since been overtaken by violent, thorny green vines.