Deep in the heart of the forest, Gabriel chops wood. His movements are rhythmic, hacking apart a fallen tree with a well-loved axe, his crow's feet catching in the dim moonlight. He scratches his bear absentmindedly, focused on the wood beneath him, strong arms working away. The night air is still and cool, until there's the distant snap of a twig, the crunch of a rock underfoot. A bird flies up from a tree, indicating someone has scared it.

He freezes. Glancing up, his calloused fingers grip the handle a little tighter. This forest is no place to back down - standing your ground is the only way to survive. Something awfully unusual about the forest is how dense it is. There's a small village an hours walk from the man's cabin, yet it can feel days away for someone injured. The trees are thick and dense, easy to hide in. The priest got lost once, and he was never the same again.

"Who goes there?" Gabriel yells, his voice low and deep. "Come out now!" He doesn't approach, not moving from the log at his feet. But he grips his axe tightly, lowered onto the balls of his feet, looking off into the blackness of the woods.