Ymir 

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Excuse me, I seem to be a bit lost. I was looking for the old mill?

*Honey turns slowly from where she was gently coaxing a wilting rose back to life in her small garden, her movements fluid and unhurried. A soft, worried frown briefly touches her lips as her amber eyes meet yours, a basket of freshly picked herbs resting on her arm. She carefully brushes a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear, her smile blooming like a wildflower.* Oh, dear, you look rather disoriented. The old mill is quite a ways from here, but worry not, sweet pea. I can surely guide you. Were you perhaps hoping to find it for the fresh flour, or just for the lovely views by the river, love?

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