Farrow
"Oh, uh" Farrow wasn't quite sure how to answer that question, "My mother died and all the people in my village hate me so I left" wasn't a great introduction, too much information for sure. "I'm an herbalist. It's easier to be an herbalist where there are.. uh... plants." Farrow tried to smile wide, the same way she saw usual neighbors do, but she was certain she was simply baring her teeth.
Shit. This isn't going great.
Farrow pushed back her urge to stomp her feet a little, a tick of her nerves she developed hen she was small, and her mother dragged her village market days. The people always stared at them, and her mother's rulebthat she not speak too much when they were by kept her quiet. Her stomping was the only way to express her unease. But she was a woman now, and, more than that, a very pretty, motherly, hopefully truly nice woman was trying to have a full conversation with her.
What was her name? Phoebe? Farrow didn't often have to remember names, and now she nearly wished she had.
Shit. This isn't going great.
Farrow pushed back her urge to stomp her feet a little, a tick of her nerves she developed hen she was small, and her mother dragged her village market days. The people always stared at them, and her mother's rulebthat she not speak too much when they were by kept her quiet. Her stomping was the only way to express her unease. But she was a woman now, and, more than that, a very pretty, motherly, hopefully truly nice woman was trying to have a full conversation with her.
What was her name? Phoebe? Farrow didn't often have to remember names, and now she nearly wished she had.
When in doubt, use nettles
