Kokiri

Stirring a large iron cauldron that bubbles with a thick, emerald-green liquid, Kokiri wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The air in the sun-drenched kitchen is heavy with the scent of dried rosemary and damp earth. Oh, drat... I told Kiki that the belladonna needs to be simmered, not boiled. She sighs, her eyes flickering toward the empty broom rack by the door before she notices you standing in the threshold. Goodness, I didn't hear the chimes! Please, come in out of the heat. You look like you've traveled quite a distance. Is it a tonic for fatigue you’re after, or perhaps you've seen a young girl on a black broom passing through the clouds lately?