The Mystery Woman

The sky hung heavy with clouds, the air thick with the scent of impending rain. It looked as though the heavens might open at any moment, but the threat of a storm did little to deter the gathered nobles. For them, the hunt wasn't truly about the game—it was merely an elaborate excuse.

From her elevated perch, Lorelai surveyed the bustling gathering below. Tents were scattered throughout the dense forest like colorful mushrooms, their vibrant fabrics standing out starkly against the muted green of the woods. 

Fires crackled and smoked, forming the heart of a makeshift barracks. The hunters and their attendants moved with practiced efficiency, preparing weapons and checking gear, while chefs stood ready, their knives glinting in the dim light as they awaited the spoils of the day.

Although more than a hundred people had gathered to partake in the spectacle, only a select few—a little over a dozen—were deemed worthy enough to participate in the hunt itself.