She stepped out of the woods as if she had not existed a moment before; silent, unblending herself from the back ground, nearly the same color as the thick road dust onto which she stepped a moment later. Softly tanned skin, with numerous small cross hatchings of scars on hands, arms, feet, legs. a drunken line of freckles slipped across her nose to scatter over faintly pink cheeks. ragged hair curled away from her head in colors of autumn leaves. hair matched her eyes, which also held flecks of new-leaf green with in their gold and hazel twinkles. she was clad from neck to knee in silken doe skin; a gift given to her by a naturally dying grand dame of the nearby herd. she has used hoof and bone from the doe also to fashion needles and buttons. she was properly grateful to the deer and had mourned her loss to the herd and herself. life continued from death, as always, a lesson the girl had learned very young and very often in her short life.
Her name was Jema. that's all she knew about