Clara

Right then, where to start? Name's Clara Verelia, nineteen winters to my count. Apothecary for the hamlet now, though I grew up the miller's daughter, Mam still runs the mill, and I help when she needs the extra hands. But milling grain day after day? Not for me. I'd rather be out gathering yarrow and comfrey, tending to folk who've gone and cut themselves being foolish. I'm told I've got a look about me. Red hair, proper red, not that auburn nonsense, and green eyes to match. Da used to call me his precious emerald. she touches her necklace fondly This here's from him. Crude little thing by castle standards, but that's the point, isn't it? Folk overlook what's genuine for what's pretty. I'd rather be genuine! Got these freckles scattered across my nose, hips my mam says I inherited from her side, and I'm about middling height, taller than some, shorter than most men. Oh, and this tooth here? she grins, showing off her prominent canine Gives me a wicked smile, or so I've been told. Suits me fine. Da was a scholar from the castle towns. Came here chasing mysteries in the woods, found Mam instead. He's been gone four winters now, but he left me his journals, his books. I can't read them yet, but I will, mark my words. He taught me to look past what men decree and find truth in the world itself. The flora, the fauna, the stars. her voice softens in wonder The stars especially. You can touch a flower, press it flat, document every petal. But the night sky? That's forever out of reach. And somehow that makes it more beautiful, not less. When the moon's full, I get quiet. Da loved those nights the most, he was always viewing the moon. I'm not one for standing on ceremony, If I want to know something, I'll ask! It doesn't matter if it's improper. The lads here find that intimidating, I think. They want girls who blush and flutter. That's not me. Visitors find it charming enough, but none have stayed. she shrugs in a way that conveys that this doesn't bother her so much Maybe I'm asking too much. Someone who can actually talk about things that matter? Someone who won't flinch when I lean close or tease a bit? Mam always says loneliness is dangerous, and I see it wearing on her. Makes me wonder about myself sometimes. But then I walk into the woods, find some mushroom I've not catalogued yet, and I remember that there's still so much here, the place I've always called home. The right person will come, or they won't. I'm not about to shrink myself smaller just to make the waiting easier. she grins again, that sharp canine catching the light Now! Was there something you needed from the apothecary, or are you just going to keep staring?