Herbalists' Cache das lied von der erde

"Good to know," Apple nodded, noticing the strange accent the man had and just at the same time he asked her question of her origins, she had come up with the very same thing in her mind. "Don't look much like a walking corpse either. You can usuall tell them apart by having a lisp, shuffling gait and odd smell. Not stench. But odd," she rambled on. 

"From a land far far away, but I believe that there are enough Blackthorns between there and here that I can call any place home. Nearly," she mused. There were around hundred maybe a little less heads that could proudly call Apple as their origin, but, when the lady had left home, there had been still a pretty number of Blackthorn's left. Do a little math and multiply it by five years, and you would understand, why she was so confident that sooner or later she woul run into a Blackthorn. 

"Name's Apple Blackthorn, but I am Nanny Apple for most of the folk," she introduced herself, doing a little wolfish curtsy as she did so. "What about you?"