Days of wandering the dark forest have left you weary. Strange creatures lurk in the shadows, and your rations are long gone. Your party, already worn thin from the long campaign, longs for the warmth of a tavern hearth and a feast that feels like a distant memory.

Then, your ranger reaches into his component pouch, producing a simple sprig of mistletoe. With whispered words in an ancient tongue, his fingers trace symbols in the air. He closes his fist, then slowly opens it—revealing your salvation. Ten small, life-giving berries rest in his palm, brimming with quiet magic and the promise of another day.