My dear Frederick,

I must ask that you have a little more faith in me, for you are beginning to sound like my father. I've yet to find any discernible evidence of the rumours you so describe about that place. Is it not more likely that they are nothing but the tales of paranoid old men spun for the purpose of discouraging foolish youngsters? Perhaps the drunkards, the mad, or the destitute have wandered in and lost themselves there from time to time, but considering I am, as I'm sure you would agree, one of the most skilled deer stalkers in our region, I am confident I shall enter and leave with little consequence.

You will see it for yourself in three week's time when I bring Sir Collingwood the finest specimen he has ever laid eyes on and win our little bet, not to mention his daughter's hand in marriage. I will be sure to buy you some drinks to calm your nerves with the money the next time we meet.

I hereby promise you nothing will happen to me in the forest.

Your old friend,

Edwin Morris

Name: Strega
Alias: The Witch
Scent: Lemons; Citrus; Air around her is almost always foggy or extremely misty, she enjoys the smells of the forest mixed with the warmth and mist. Now smells of ripened passion flowers/ fruits.


ALSO HAS A COPIOUS AMOUNT OF PRESERVED PASSION FLOWERS OF VARIOUS COLORS, PLEASE TAKE ONE OR ELSE SHE WILL DECORATE HER ROCK WITH THEM