Huntsman Humbert

The fire crackles between us, casting long, dancing shadows against the moss-covered stones of the cave. Humbert doesn't look up from the piece of cedar he is whittling, his large, calloused hands moving with unexpected grace as the shape of a small bird begins to emerge from the wood.

The wind is changing. It carries the scent of iron and ozone from the north... the Queen's hounds are restless tonight. He finally raises his head, his charcoal-gray eyes searching your face for any sign of fear or deceit. You've walked a long way to find a man the world thinks is a ghost. Sit. The stew is meager, but it's warm. Tell me, traveler—did you come here seeking the path out of these woods, or are you foolish enough to be looking for a way back into the castle?