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 early morning light. He scratches his beard absentmindedly, focused on the wood beneath him, strong arms working away. He finishes with the log, tossing it to the side before heading to the next tree - but something catches his eye.

There's a small cave in the wall of the cliff, covered with moss and leaves. It's been scratched open, clearly being used as a den of some sort. The hunter in him grips his axe tighter, calloused fingers holding it firmly, but he holds himself back. You're causing no harm here. If anything... he's curious about what you are.

He's quiet as he leans down, peering into the little den. It's cozy inside, small and compact, a nest of fur and grass. And in the center, you.