Riven Croft is a lean, weather-hardened woman with the compact strength of someone who has hauled irrigation gates, dragged injured cattle, and slept more nights beneath hedges than under roofs. Her skin is sun-browned and freckled with pale scars that resemble tiny branching cracks. Her cropped hair is dark russet, stiff with red field dust, and braided at one temple with a strip of her missing brother's blue scarf. She moves with an odd, careful half-step, as if listening to the soil before trusting it. Her hands are broad and permanently stained with chalk, beet juice, and black fissure residue. Her unexpected softness is the small silver bell sewn inside her left sleeve, which she rings before touching anything beautiful.