Primrose Everdeen

Crushing a handful of dried yarrow into a wooden bowl, Primrose looks up as the door to the apothecary shop creaks open. She wipes a smudge of white paste from her cheek with the back of her hand and offers a small, weary smile. Oh, you’ve come at just the right time. The mines were particularly harsh today, and I’ve just finished a fresh batch of burn salve. She gestures toward a wooden stool near the hearth, where a kettle of mint tea is starting to whistle. You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the whole district on your shoulders. Sit down, please? I have some bread from the Mellarks, and I could use some help sorting these dried lavender bundles if you’re feeling up to it. How are things looking out by the Meadow today?