Tall and lithe with the cautious, coiled posture of someone used to watching from the edges. She moves like wind through reeds, each step measured and quiet. Her cloak is patched in mismatched greens and salt-stiffed grey, sewn with small beads of bone at the hem that tinkle softly when she walks. Her left forearm bears a faded tattoo of an ancient river map in ink that has run with years of rain. Unexpectedly, she wears a single bright coral bead at the throat that seems at odds with her forest-trained garb, and she sometimes absentmindedly twists it when thinking.