A lean woman who moves like a cat in a well-worn caretaker's rhythm. Long black hair falls straight and heavy, the last third dipped a soft sea-blue that gleams where light catches it. Her face is a map of small white scars across the left cheek and a pale crescent scar along her forehead; her forearms are a lattice of thinner silvered lines from old burns and barbed wire. Skin shows the faint freckling of someone who shelters seedlings and children both. Her hands are callused but careful, nails trimmed and clean, and she wears a narrow silver band braided with green thread on her right thumb. When she walks she often rocks the small satchel at her hip, like a metronome, and when she speaks she unconsciously tucks a stray lock of blue-tipped hair behind her ear—then immediately pulls it back as if embarrassed. A faint scent of rosemary and beeswax follows her.