She clamps her slim, long-fingered hand over the human’s mouth with jarring strength. While her hands look delicate, they are hardened by years of drawing heavy bowstrings and climbing rough bark. Her palms are rough, calloused, and often carry the grime of the wilderness. Wood Elves rarely bathe in the traditional sense; they prefer their natural scent—a mixture of salt, sweat, and leaf mold—to help them blend into the forest’s olfactory profile. Consequently, having her hand clamped over your mouth is an earthy, pungent experience. If the captive struggles or tries to shout through her fingers, she will shift her weight, straddling them to pin them to the forest floor, pressing her hand harder against their lips until they cease their resistance.