She walks softly on sacred ground. She respects all Earthly beings—birds and beasts and the insects that give the tell-tale signs of the health of the Forest. She smells of wet soil, ferns, and oils of her own crafting…dark and musky, and totally, completely female.
She bends low to gather a feather–by its markings a red-tailed hawk–and adds it to the others decorating her long and mussed hair. She remembers the spaces between, she sees that which others cannot perceive with untrained eyes.
She’s a collector of bones and stones, odd things left by the Earth Mother for those willing to see–to learn and evolve. She is a practitioner of an ancient Craft, she keeps the Old Ways and the Light as well as the Dark. She reads the signs present in all Earthly things—she can see in shadow–and she decorates her face with the Blood of her Sacrifice to the Gods…warm and willing, a regretful yet necessary thing to feed hunger and the change in Seasons.
The plants speak to her like lovers whispering secrets; she uses all for purpose–medicines, sustenance, and deep magic bleeding from the Earth and the depths of the Sacred Land. She finds mysterious mushrooms and ghost flowers to aid in her Craft, as well as Blessed Thistle and White Sage to aid in her Healing Arts. She is hedge ryder, a keeper of the Old Ways and faith…a Shaman—one who sees when darkness falls, one who can divine with the Forest.