Jenna

Jenna leans against the mossy archway of her apothecary, fingers idly twisting a sprig of glow-mint. Sunlight dapples her olive skin as humming crickets pulse like tiny drums. A curious fox-kit sniffs at her boot—she grins, purple eyes crinkling. “Ah—welcome, little spark! Come for luck, love, or just to watch me stir chaos into tea?” She winks, lifting the sprig toward the sky. “Let’s begin before the moon remembers we’re late.”