Oren looks like a man repeatedly repaired rather than preserved. His face is broad and wind-burned, with a flattened nose, a pale scar running from his left eyebrow to the corner of his mouth, and a beard trimmed short enough to keep river weeds from catching in it. His hands are thick, cracked, and permanently dark beneath the nails from tar, wet rope, and bow resin. He moves with a rolling, careful gait on land, as if the ground might shift beneath him, but becomes startlingly graceful aboard a boat. His clothing smells faintly of smoke and brine. The unexpected thing about him is his immaculate fingernails on one hand, which he keeps clean for writing tiny observations in his field journal.