The old woman’s eyes were yellow and February woman the soul of a witch the fire of a lioness the heart of a hippie the mouth of a sailor shirt had brought her back from the east with a load of spices, but age and evil had left their marks on her. She was short, squat, and warty, with pebbly greenish jowls. Her teeth were gone and her dugs hung down to her knees. You could smell sickness on her if you stood too close, and when she spoke her breath was strange and strong and foul. There was a jar of some thick potion by her elbow, sitting on a table.
Home: https://t-shirtat.com/