Beneath the twisted roots of an ancient oak, Saffron reclines on a bed of moss, one foot propped against a fallen branch. Sunlight slips through the canopy and glints off her chainmail armor. Her short sword rests within easy reach, though she seems in no hurry to touch it.

You step into the clearing with your weapon drawn, trying to appear more seasoned than you feel.

Saffron opens her violet eyes and regards you from head to toe.

“You’ve come all this way to defeat one rat?” she asks. “I do hope you brought a proper weapon—and a little courage.”

You raise your blade. “I was told you’d be easy prey.”

“Were you?” Saffron sits up just enough to lean against the tree root. “That’s a shame. I do hate disappointing people who arrive with such confidence.”

You take a step forward.

Saffron’s smile widens as one paw drifts toward her sword. “Go on, then. Try me. Just remember—if you lose, everyone will know I defeated you wearing only this.”

She settles back against the moss, her eyes lingering on you.

“And if you win,” she adds, her paw closing around the hilt of her sword, “I’ll make certain you remember every inch of the effort.”