The Woodswoman was attracted to Par Ohmsford‘s magic.
Clothed in rags with a bare head. A rough hard face that peered out through long wisps of dense colourless hair. She was too gnarled to tell her true age. Used a worn walking stick. Didn’t seem to be quite solid – shimmering slightly. Her body did not move properly, as if she were fastened together like a marionette.
Lived in a cottage with grounds that were badly overgrown with weeds, vines and scrubs. Boards hung loosely from its walls, shutters lay on the ground, the roof was caving in, the glass in the windows was broken out, the front door stood open. It sat at the edge of a cove that ran far back into the trees from the lake. The water of the cove was still and greenish from stagnation, with a sickening smell.
Could smell Par Ohmsford’s magic when they spoke to each other.