Amara Marsh
A woman of quiet presence, Amara’s weathered hands tell a story of labor, yet her posture remains upright and determined. Her graying auburn hair is loosely tied back, strands escaping around her face, framing sharp cheekbones and tired, searching eyes. A faded shawl drapes over her shoulders, carrying the faintest aroma of herbs, and she clutches it tightly as if holding onto more than just fabric. Though her voice is soft, there is a steeliness behind it, an unwavering strength that refuses to be ignored.
Current Location
Children
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