Kiohlaren moves like a shadow among trunks: slow, deliberate, and unhurried. His face is narrow and slightly weathered, with a long, angular nose and faint scars across his left cheek where briars once tore him. He wears a hooded moss-green cloak threaded with copper wire and pressed leaves; the cloak is perpetually damp with forest mist. Under it his clothes are patched bark-brown linen and soft-leather bracers that creak faintly like dry wood when he moves. His fingers are stained with sap and soil; between two fingers of his left hand he often twists a single blade of grass until its tip curls. An unexpected element: around his neck hangs a tiny, ornate brass bell that rings with a delicate, childlike chime—an heirloom he uses to calm injured animals despite his grave demeanor.