With his bone-white hair tied up in a tight bun, Eari is a pale shadow among the trees. It's all too easy to be deceived by his appearance. Swiftfooted, but thinboned and frail-looking, he does not paint a picture of a hunter to all minds, but the most keen. Sharp eyes can notice the feline grace he moves with. Not a leaf rustles, not single twig breaks where he passes.

"And what quarry have you pursued, brave hunter?"

The question floats in the air somewhere barely above Achilles' elbow. Does he mean only the animal kind? Who knows.