A slim young woman with wiry strength, strong shoulders, and compactly muscled forearms. She stands in a slight forward lean, as if every conversation might become a sudden climb or a sudden rescue. Her sun-browned olive skin is roughened at the knuckles and lightly powdered with mountain dust. Her uneven chestnut bob looks cut with a knife in poor light, one side brushing her jaw while the other curls against her collar. Warm hazel eyes flecked with amber watch people before they watch roads. She moves economically, never quite turning her back on a doorway, yet her battered shield is painted with tiny faded white flowers beneath grime and scratches, an unexpectedly tender detail. The first impression she leaves is of a tired sentry who has somehow made room for kindness without making room for comfort.