Name: Raine of Leeward Wood
Age: 11
Occupation: hedge witch in training
Genre: fantasy
Rough description: dark skin, tangled black hair, pale brown eyes, 4'6"; skinny and quick

More:
Raine was barely an infant when the hedge witch took her in, a favor to parents who never returned, and she's lived in the woods since, barring a brief attempt to take her to a more normal family that failed when she showed up on the woman's doorstep a day later. Her surrogate mother trains her in herblore and takes her on her rounds as one of the few "doctors" in the area.

Sample:
She pushed a wave of tangled hair out of her face, poking her head out the door and making a face before pulling it shut.

"It's raining."

"So I gathered," the older woman said dryly, glancing up from her pestle to see the child still frowning in the doorway. "Well?"

"But I don't want to get wet --"

"Raine, I've asked you to gather one sweetblossom from the herb garden, not trek to Dolaran market. You'll dry."

"Bu-ut --"

The woman set the pestle down, but she hadn't even lifted her head before the door creaked open again.

"Okay, okay," Raine mumbled into the damp air, pushing the door shut and lingering under the shallow overhang of the roof before ducking into the weather.

She splashed as hard as she could through the puddles to make the work look harder, in spite of the fact that it would likely be her who had to wash out the heavy skirt later in the week. She bounded over the low fence around the garden, splashing heavily into the mud next to a row of herbs.

She glanced behind her after unsticking her feet and wondered if Rista would say anything about the deep imprints in dirt.

Maybe.

Rain trickled down her face, and she padded hurriedly to the sweetblossom, whose tiny flowers were wilting under the water. She sighed and snatched up a sprig of it, lifting the flower to her nose and sniffing delicately, even though she could barely smell it in the rain.

When she opened her eyes, she froze.

A tall figure, human-shaped, stood next to the nearest tree, watching her with pale eyes.

"Hello," she called automatically. "We won't be making rounds today -- do you need something?"

It shifted, and it was then she noticed the antlers sprouting from either side of its head.

Her mouth snapped shut, and she clutched the sweetblossom to her chest, but it moved no closer, watching her for a moment more before turning and fading into the rainy woods.

She breathed again, then spun and dashed back to the house as quickly as she could without injuring the garden.

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