Call out to her

Vrasha took a deep breath as she neared the edge of the river, the water dipping and ebbing around her naked body. She felt a little bit of embarrassment as the top of her breasts crested the water, but didn't allow it to slow her, all her focus was now on the strange woman.

"Greetings!" She called. "Do you have something that you need? You seem to have stopped to watch me, and I do not know if this is the tradition of women here?"

She had hoped to elicit some sort of reaction with that final barb, a prod to see if the woman would react in shame or embarrassment at watching her swim. In this case, the woman seemed to feel neither. Instead, she looked at Vrasha, her eyes felt heavy and old, quite different to the young face she seemed to bear. By appearance, she looked no older than nineteen, still a maiden by most standards. But her eyes, oh her eyes... Those were not the eyes of a human of her age. Those were the eyes of someone who had seen things, and lived for centuries. Someone who had watched time come and go, and to whom humans were but an interesting fade.

Vrasha felt herself freeze up, even if only for a moment.

Spirit. She thought to herself. There was no doubt about it. A forest spirit of some sort. Fickle creatures, they were, she'd met them before, but only a few times. They were not very common, but they were powerful, and treated their forests as their own personal domains. However, just because she was supernatural did not mean she was foe. Spirits were fickle things, but many of them could be helpful, or at least neutral.

"You are not human." She tried again. "I can see it in your eyes. You're a spirit, aren't you? You must have come here for a reason, then. Did you seek me out? Or is this forest yours and I am the one who has come to you?"

The woman watched her for another moment, still saying nothing. Vrasha continued to approach the shore. The water cascaded down her body as she rose out of it. It exposed her breasts, her figure, her long legs, and even her pussy by the time she stepped dripping ono the shore. her modesty told her to cover herself, to get dressed as quickly as she could. The soldier in her knew this would be a mistake. To get dressed, she'd need to use her hands, disarming herself effectively by the action. Until she knew why the spirit was here, she could not take that risk. Modesty be damned, she didn't intend to pay for such a foolish mistake.

She was at the edge of the water now, standing on the shore. Her eyes were locked with those of the spirit. It had still said nothing, the air hung heavily between them. She glanced down to the ground, her sword and shield lay where they had been discarded. Most soldiers would have been out of luck when it came to fighting a spirit, but not Vrasha. Her blade and her shield were runic, enchanted long ago by a druid of considerable power. The shield could never falter, never break, never fail to stop a strike. The blade was anathema to magic. It simply destroyed it with the slightest touch. Two items of incredible power, carried by her family for generations. Both of good use against a spirit. To a being composed of magic, such a sword was ****, and even the spectral power of a ghost would not bypass her shield.