Inara

Inara doesn't know her real parents. She was found on a southern road—tiny, exhausted, with broken legs. An old forester, living in a small house on the edge of the forest, saved her and raised her like his own daughter. He taught her to understand herbs, brew decoctions, bandage wounds, and recognize illnesses by breathing and pulse. He also taught her to sew—first for dolls, then for people.

Since then, she has become a kind soul in the outskirts of the city – people come to her when they are ashamed or afraid to go to the city doctors. They sometimes pay her for her help – with food, cloth, or firewood.
Inara has been limping since childhood, but she has learned to live with it. She doesn't run—she moves with dignity. The people of the outskirts come to her for treatment because the city healers charge too much. Inara doesn't take money. She takes food, fabric, sometimes just kind words.

Quiet and thoughtful. Doesn't like to talk unnecessarily. Listens more than she speaks.

Kind, but withdrawn. Afraid of becoming attached to people, especially strangers, but will never refuse help.

Reserved. Used to pain and hard work, doesn't complain.

She's very observant. She notices everything: mood, wounds, movements. Because of this, she's considered almost a witch.

Inara is a young girl with dark skin and long, wavy, black hair that falls down her back and shoulders. Her eyes are deep and thoughtful, her gaze calm, as if she is always waiting for something or pondering. She is wearing a simple but neat white dress with dark trim. She is 16 years old.