Hannah Miller

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BORN: All Hallows' Eve, 1702

BIRTHPLACE: Salem Village in the Mortal Realm

PLACE OF IMPORTANCE IN THE ROYAL FAMILY: Firstborn daughter to Melora, second in line for the witch's throne, granddaughter of Queen Shy-Ryn

HEIGHT: 5'2"

WEIGHT: 98 LBS.

CURRENT LOCATION:	Outside the magical walls of Sanctuary near Saylym and Talon's home
PROFESSION:	Part owner of the Sugar-N-Spice Bakery in Sanctuary
FAMILIAR:	Something Sage has so far failed to present to her
FAVORITE SONG:	"A Hard Day's Night" by The Beatles
QUOTE FROM WITCH'S HEART:	"I didn't kill anything. What's a Mojave Green?"
FAVORITE CHUCKLE:	Hannah snickered. Hmm, guess he was still pretty rigid all over. "I'm merely trying to help with the rigor mortis." His right eyelid twitched. His lavender colored gaze grew wide. Horror whipped across his face. "Rigor mortis?" "Yep, you know that thing that happens after something dies?" "My dick is not dead!" He glared at her, his eyes flaring with anger. Nope. Mr. Lucky there isn't likely to develop dropsie anytime soon--not that I care. He can turn purple, shrivel up, and fall off, but that poor Mojave Green is probably in need of extreme unction right now. You killed it."
MOTTO:	Any day's a good day for finding a Mojave Green.
HOBBY:	Playing the DVD of "The Wizard of Oz" for Dinka.
FAVORITE WAKEN:	Sage
FACT:	Originally, Hannah was to be Prince Stry's Heroine.

FAVORITE SCENE:
From Witch's Heart

She whipped away from him, but didn't get far. He pushed her against the counter, pinning her in place with his lower body. Hannah raked her hand down his face. Her fingers tangled in his eye patch and she jerked it off his eye with a snap!

Sage smothered a groan. Oh, man. He was going to catch hell for certain. He didn't think this quick-tempered illumrof--he'd mistakenly thought a fragile human--would appreciate his game of fake injuries the way the witches did.

He puffed out a breath. Damn, she'd fastened her gaze on the patch like she held a poisonous spider in her open palm.

She shuddered. "Oh, yuck!"

She stared at the black silk and froze right where she stood. The color slowly drained from her face. "Oh--uh, didn't mean 'yuck'. I'm sure it's not yucky, just, oh, dear..."

"Hannah, look at me."

She shook her head wildly. "No. If I do that, I'll be looking straight into an icky, empty eye socket. I'll barf for sure."

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