Name: Camilla Thorne, though she rarely uses her full name and is known to all as Milla (Mi-ya)
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Human with a touch of Wood Nymph in her blood lines
Trade/Occupation:  Huntress/Tracker

Physical Description:  Milla stands 5'10" tall with a strong body, wide shoulders and strong arms and legs, yet possesses womanly curves aplenty despite the constant natural exercise and work that keep her so strong and nimble.  Her hair is a soft chestnut color, lighter in some places and certain kinds of light, a mass of complicated curls and dizzying waves, she often pulls it up and back, but when left loose it reaches her shoulders, and in the back, to a point between her shoulder blades, looking far longer when it is when and straight.  Her skin is a medium tone, neither pale nor tanned, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, shoulders and upper chest.  Milla possesses eyes of light blue mixed with sea green and flecks of yellow gold, while surrounded by a thin dark line that defines her enchanting irises, and lips that are fuller than most and shaped in a way that makes her smile, when given, her very best feature.

Personality: Milla takes no quarter and asks for none in return.  She is kind to those that deserve kindness and harsh to those that deserve the same, returning like for like at all times.  She is honest, sometimes to a fault, unwavering in her pursuits and designs, her relentlessness and patience mixing to create a deadly huntress no matter her prey or target.  Milla enjoys stories and legends of old, whether telling them or listening to them, and on the rare occasion when life allows, she loves to dance, though such times are rare indeed.  Her heart is strong and true, and through her blood runs that of an ancient Wood Nymph line that connects her to the land, the flora and the fauna, in a way more intimate than any relationship she has ever had with another sentient human being, save for her family.  Her temper is not quick, but when aroused can be furious and deadly.

Background: Milla's parents raised she and her younger sister, Corinthia (Cori), off in the forest deep.  Her home was simple, if one could call home the modest shelter with walls and a roof that her Father had built to be her home, while her more expansive, truer home was the forest and it was spectacular in its awe inspiring beauty and imperfect perfection.  Trees that in some places were ancient and hundreds of feet high, majestic and unwavering as they survived untold generations of more active beings that lived within and beneath their broad, verdant canopies.  Babbling brooks, roaring rivers and enchanting waterfalls criss-crossed the land with fresh, cool water being abundant, and the occasional open meadow allowing for more pure sunlight to reach the ground than the speckled variety that slipped between the softly wind blown leaves of the great forest trees.

Milla's Father taught her to hunt and trap, never taking more than what they needed to survive, just like any other animal in balance with the nature of the deep wood knew to do.  He also taught her and Cori, who despised hunting, to defend themselves, though Milla was by far the taller and stronger of the two  Cori took after their Mother, a woman of slight build, soft, willowy beauty and yet a powerful will and mind that belied her gentle physicality.  She taught the children of the trees and plants, of herbs and roots and the like, how to use them, grow them and cook them or turn them into medicines.  In this Cori was the more talented of the sisters by far, though Milla learned the basic things her Mother instructed her upon.  They lived as part of the land, recognizing nor caring to be known by no Monarch or Ruler, having trade with the occasional merchant who braved the deep, acquiring things they could not make themselves in this way.

Among the people from whom Milla's Father was descended it was tradition for the eldest son of the family to take a life's journey upon coming of age at 19.  Though he had no sons, Milla always knew that she would take such a journey of her own, having been raised by her Father as he might have raised a son.  When the 19th anniversary of her birth, upon the vernal equinox, came and went, the very next morning Milla tearfully, yet smiling, packed her bag as planned and bid her family goodbye for now, not knowing when she would return, but sure that she will someday.  Her tears were held back until she was out of sight of them, then flowed as freely as the river she followed into the mountains and out of the wood.

In the years since leaving home, Milla has met many different people and kinds of peoples, some of whom she befriended and others whom taught her that trust is something precious and not always easily given, nor always honored by those who take it.  Dark days and nights have mixed in with lighter ones, adventures and a sharpening point of purpose have found her as Milla has come to view the defense of the land and forest, along with the dispensing of justice to those who need her protection or deserve her wrath, may be the path upon which her destiny lies.

Milla is extremely skilled with bow and arrow, short bladed swords and daggers and is not above wrestling or throwing a solid punch when needed.  She excels at living off of the land, tracking and hunting, be it food or those she brings justice to.  She favors greens and browns, though she possesses one soft blue dress that is rarely taken from her ever present rucksack.  She wears dresses at all times, though those she favors are made of a soft, but strong leather and chain armor atop, and water resistant and sturdy green cloth below. Her boots made and tanned by her Mother, a set of woven strings in various colors given to her by Cori when she departed, used as ties for her hair, being her most precious possessions, along with the bow that her father carved from a solid piece of heartwood, one that has never failed her.

Sample of Milla:  Milla woke to the sounds of the flowers opening their blooms, the chatter of the grey squirrels up early collecting acorns for their well hidden stashes and the scent of the dew upon the slightly lemony smelling long grass above which she had hung her hammock the night before.  Slipping down the back tot eh wide, slowly flowing area of the river by which she had encamped, and wearing only her white underslip, Milla shed and hung up to air out that last garment and smiled softly  as the bracingly cool freshness of the water greeted her skin that was much in need of freshening itself.  Finding mint sprigs along the bank to mix into her tallow made soap cream, she washed, swam and relaxed a bit for the early morn, before exiting the water with a hand-caught red-tailed catfish that would serve as her protein for that morning's breakfast, before beginning her journey again with another new step into the unknown.


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