Despite her towering height, some five foot eight, Anora Sawtvest does not look much older than sixteen years.  She is on the thin side as well, making her more like a thin stick than any other shape, although she have no idea of most of the names for such shapes since she is dirt poor, literally.  She may be able to read but education is a what again to her.  Muck under her fingernails are her allowance, or so goes the word among the bullies that pick on her.

Her hair is, despite her poverty, long (it saves on the blade not having to cut it) and chocolate brown in colour, and that is before any muck (more allowance!) gets stuck in it.  Her eyes, two in all, located on the front on her skull (which is found at the end of her neck not attached to the body) proudly boasts their own colour; one black (and not from a punch, usually) and one bright green.  The bullies loves that.

Due to her towering over most kids she tends to slouch, badly.  No, actually, she is good at slouching.  It is good bad in this case, even if slouching itself is bad.  That would be the bad kind of bad.  If she straightened up she would show that she is already a young woman, and if she does not start walking with a straight back soon she may end up a hunchbacked young woman.

Youngest in the family with ten other children, and the only girl, Anora kept to herself a lot, even if one of her brothers, Charomd, the third-born, is the closest to her.

She is usually shy and soft-spoken, not wanting to draw attention to herself, but she opens up to those she do get to know and displays a whole different kind of personality when she believes, right or wrong, that she is alone with them.

What she wears can barely be that, worn that is.  Cheap and nasty would be an improvement, as would a pair of shoes.  But somewhere under all the mess hides a cute young lady, evident on the rare occasions when a smile cracks through.