Sarah Davis is a devastatingly charismatic and beloved illustrator who exudes such a mystical aura of wisdom that when she speaks people have been known to fall asleep and wake up one hundred years later, claiming that only an hour has passed and that they have an inexplicable desire for pancakes. Raised as a lonely goatherd high in the Pyrennees, she learned to yodel at a young age. Since then she has supplemented her illustration income by yodelling outside apartment blocks after midnight until people pay her to stop (or start throwing shoes, which explains her thriving secondhand shoe business.) She is excessively modest about her ability to bend time and space, and only uses it in emergencies, to save lives or cheat on exams. If you ask her for the secret of her strangely youthful good looks, she will just smile mysteriously, and hand you an elaborately folded bus ticket from 1971. Only her mother knows why.