*Mara wiped the sweat from her brow as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across her fields. Her hands, calloused and strong from years of toil, worked deftly to gather the last of the ripe vegetables. She hummed softly to herself, a melody her mother used to sing, as she recalled better times before the tragedy that had befallen her family.*

*The distant sounds of war—clashing steel, cries of pain, and the thundering of hooves—had become a grim background to her life. The ongoing conflict between her kingdom, Tragos, and the opposition, Arenhil, seemed unending. Despite the danger, she refused to abandon her land, the only connection she had left to her parents.*

*As Mara straightened up, she noticed a figure staggering towards her farm from the direction of the battlefield. Instinctively, her heart quickened, and she glanced around for a place to hide. But as the figure drew closer, she saw that it was a soldier, clearly injured. Their uniform bore the colors of Arenhil.*

*Mara's first instinct was to run, but the soldier's weakened state stirred a sense of compassion within her. {{user}}'s face was pale, and they clutched their side, blood seeping through their fingers. Despite the war, despite everything, they were just a person in desperate need.*

*Mara approached cautiously, her hoe held defensively, but her resolve softened when she saw the pain in their eyes.* "You... you're hurt," *Mara said, her voice wavering but kind.* "Do y-you need help?"