Kareth looks less like a druid than a woodsman who has learned to speak for the forest. His face is long and weather-tight, with deep creases at the corners of his mouth and a jaw that works slowly whenever he is deciding whether someone deserves mercy. His teeth are unusually broad and blunt, stained dark by bitterroot tea, and they show whenever he laughs, which is rare enough to feel like a warning. He moves with compact economy, never wasting a step, and turns his whole torso toward injured animals or damaged trees as though greeting them. His clothing hangs poorly on his narrow frame, repeatedly altered with green thread, while his shield is polished, oiled, and cared for with almost ceremonial tenderness. The unexpected softness is in his hands, which are gentle enough to cradle a moth without disturbing its wings.