A mountain village emerged from the rocky terrain like a crude masterpiece, its haphazard structures clinging to the slopes as if seeking refuge from the elements. Wooden huts, weathered and worn, dotted the landscape in irregular patterns. The air carried a scent of burning wood and the distant murmur of mountain streams.
Aaron surveyed the village, his eyes absorbing the details with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. The villagers, clad in rough-hewn garments, moved about their tasks with a stoic determination. It was a place untouched by the conveniences of the outside world, a microcosm carved into the unforgiving heart of the mountain.
As he approached, the villagers regarded Aaron and Seraphina with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The chief, adorned with simple beads and feathers, stepped forward, his eyes reflecting a lifetime etched by mountain winds and rugged terrain.
