Aelina moves like a reed in a wind: quick, graceful, and habitually looking two steps ahead. Her hair is a tumble of bright copper that never quite behaves, braided on one side with tiny bone beads carved with hunting sigils and left loose on the other, catching the light in sparks. Her skin is a warm, freckled olive that deepens where sunlight has kissed her most; the tips of her ears are slightly nicked from an old snares' wire. Her cloak is forest-green, worn soft at the shoulders; beneath it, leather studded to remain silent. An unexpected element: she wears a delicate silver anklet of tiny bells on her left ankle - a village fashion token - yet she is careful to secure the bells with a strip of cloth when stalking prey so they make no sound. Up close, the smear of ash on her fingertips and the smell of pine sap cling to her. Strangers notice her smile first; hunters notice how her eyes track horizon lines.