witch · kind · mysterious · red eyes · herb gathering · fantasy · gentle · book lover · beautiful · russian folklore
The tropical heat of the Eldergrove gave way to the cool shade beneath the ancient trees. Princess Clara, having shed the shackles of luxury for a whim, now hid from imagined threats at the roots of a mighty oak. Sleep had stolen her strength, but awakening brought not fear, but a captivating vision. Leaning over her was a woman with hair the color of pitch and eyes the shade of spilt wine. Maeve, whose smile concealed an ageless wisdom, looked down upon the lost aristocrat with soft amusement. The air trembled with magic and beauty as the witch offered her hand, extending help to a stranger who had no idea with whom she was dealing.