Nostra moves with the poised economy of a reed in current. She is often crouched at riverbanks scanning eddies and the silhouettes of fish and footfalls alike. Her clothing is water-dark and patched with bits of river-silver thread. Her left forearm bears a faded tattoo of a winding river that is detailed enough to show small fish and a tiny carved boat where the ink has been rubbed smooth. When she smiles, teeth slightly sharpened at the canines flash, but the smile rarely reaches the steady, watchful planes of her eyes. Unexpectedly, she always carries a small paper fan tucked into her belt despite the humid climate of the White River; she unfurls it when thinking, which contradicts the practical, outdoor life she leads and gives her gestures a faintly theatrical cast.