Quistine was raised in the forests. While many halflings spend much of their time within the tribe Quistine was always a little different. Perhaps that’s because of her father, who had lost his mate and his faith at the same time. Perhaps it’s just because Quistine was always a little bit different, a little more in touch with the trees than with the others of her kind. The rains that others would shy away from Quistine danced in, and laughed. The winds that threw the treetops back and forth, wrenching leaves from the treetops and scattering the ground with soon-to-decay vegetation she would climb towards, stretching her small limbs to the skies. Among other things that set her apart Quistine has always been an adept climber, she can balance lightly on the least stable treebranch, skip from sopping mossy stone to rotten tree-trunk in the pouring rain without faltering. Her grey-gold eyes are always steady, focused, trained on something in the distance, but among others she seems distant, cold, and her occasional bursts of humor were frequently misunderstood.
