Short, quick-shouldered woman with long straight brown hair shaved on the right side so the remaining length falls like a dusty curtain over her left shoulder. Her movements are economical — a farmer’s gait trained for long days bending and climbing — but there’s a quick, watchful quality to how she turns her head, as if listening for both weather and gossip. Skin is smooth and deep black, almost like polished river stone, and her oval, slightly bulbous face squints often, not from poor sight but habit: she narrows her eyes to measure wind, soil, or a stranger’s intent. She favors practical clothes dusted with hay and soil; when she stands she carries the constant single-shoulder tilt of someone who bears tools more than ornaments. Unexpectedly, she keeps a child's bright orange ribbon braided into the long left side of her hair — a flash of color that contradicts her plainness and hints at devotion to someone small and vital.