Elena is a young human woman, tall and well-built and healthy and hale; by appearances, however, she is probably not nobility, or a merchant, or possibly even a serf. She moves with a wild and steady grace, and her gaze sweeps about with both purpose and abandon -- a testament (for those who might be looking) to both experience as a warrior as well as the simple and ample curiosity of youth. Her skin has been kissed by the Sun to an almost golden bronze. Her face blossoms with youth and vitality, although something about it suggests a serious focus drives her. Her eyes are wide and luminous, like glowing saucers of liquid amber, and they seem to shine with a soft and warm inner light. Below, a small mouth rests quietly, without expression, under a wide and somewhat blunted nose. Her hair is a rich russet brown with orange and gold highlights, and it hangs loosely around her head in unruly (almost spiky) bunches without rhyme or reason, as if she's never given the appearance of it a thought in the world.

Her clothing is simple and plain, fit more for a peasant, or possibly a beggar. A white linen shirt -- probably sized for a man -- hangs over her torso; it obviously wants nothing to do with the long cotton skirt that hugs her hips, as it hangs loose and untucked at her waist. The skirt was obviously once bright blue, but now it's been faded by the sun; as Elena walks, it still manages to flow and twirl around her legs like the wind made physical. In the back, a long catlike tail emerges from a rough hole in the skirt, and moves with sinuous elegance. It's tawny coloring matches her hair. A leather pouch hangs around Elena's neck, and a lumpy sack, clutched lazily in one hand, is either tossed over one shoulder, or swings from her arm in time with her stride.