Blackfoot Forest To that stranger's door

she shrinks back and away, knowing her folly swiftly. apology grows and dies on her lips, and instead, she offers, carefully.  "I could help."  tongue flicks out to lick her lips, in her nervousness her gaze misses her intended mark, finding the woman's shoulder instead of carefully seeking out her head through the clearer patches of her vision. "I am Adra - I know herbs."  it is a strength she holds close to her heart, sometimes imagining the tiny blooms or spiked leaves she thinks she remembers.