Ang held his breath, staring intently at the old man and young girl before him, a complicated feeling rising in his heart. The Guanda elder was hunched and slow-moving, yet his gaze was steady and profound. The magical beast-hide robe draped over him was already worn and tattered, while the faded totemic markings around it spoke of past glory. The girl supported him, her face youthful but carrying a stubborn expression. She wore simple Guanda clothing that looked thin, yet possessed a pure strength.
"Elder Rum, was this where our tribe used to live?" Ciri asked softly, her tone filled with curiosity and a trace of reverence.
"Yes, Ciri. This was once the home of our Darita Tribe." Elder Rum lowered his head to look at the ruins before him and sighed faintly, his voice heavy with nostalgia. "I wanted to see it once more, and let you see this land that belonged to us, even if nothing but ruins remains."
The two slowly sat beside a moss-covered stone monument. The old man carefully stroked the runes upon it, tracing those ancient markings bit by bit. Ciri watched his aged fingers glide over the runes, and an unfamiliar reverence and contemplation appeared in her eyes.
"Do you know, Ciri? Every tree and every patch of land in this forest was once a refuge for our ancestors. This place carries their memories and faith." Elder Rum spoke softly, deep melancholy showing in his eyes. "But when the Empire invaded, we had no choice but to leave and migrate somewhere more remote."
Ciri fell silent for a moment before finally asking, "Elder, are the Empire people truly the devils the tribe speaks of? Why did they drive us away?"
Elder Rum sighed, slowly nodded, then shook his head. His tone was heavy