Tattoos scythed down his form like inky blades, an intricate web of tribal black rivers over his tanned skin. Dark, choppy hair fell over his closed eyes. His brow creased slightly and he bowed his head.
He sat there silent, cross-legged with an air of concentration around him. This was his clearing. A sturdy shelter and a small fire lay to his left, his hunting gear at his side. He was an outlaw, hiding away from the kingdom. In the past four years, he had become a part of the vast forest he'd made his home. He had learnt how to read it, and how to live from it and with it.
And today... today something was different. It wasn't especially unsettling - he was confident that whatever it was, he could handle it. It felt like a human arrival, though whoever it was, was like no human he had ever met before. Having spent the last few years mostly alone, he wasn't so sure of his social skills. Not that he had had many of those before anyway.
His eyes snapped open suddenly. He had been searching for this new disturbance, and now he knew where it was. To the east. His lean figure rose and sloped into his shelter where he slipped on a loose shirt and a leather jerkin. His hunting gear followed behind and hovered, waiting for him. Turning, he brought them forward, picking out a Bowie knife and his bow and a quiver of arrows. The rest, he waved away into the corner. He smiled slightly at his wasteful use of telekinesis as he shrugged the bow on.
Grabbing a flask of water, he set off in the direction of this new thing at a determined pace. He didn't want to be stuck way out east in the dark away from his clearing.