A gaunt man who moves like a cat that has learned to limp. His skin has the thin, translucent quality of someone who spends more nights than days awake. Scattered salt-white scars cross the left side of his face like an old script. He ties his dark hair back in a rough knot, leaving a few silver-streaked strands to fall over a brow that furrows even when he is listening. One unexpected element is a hand-carved wooden child's toy dangling from his belt, out of place among knives and pouches. When he stands still he seems to drink in light rather than cast a shadow; when he moves, dust swirls as if reluctant to stay on the path he crosses.