(Her voice is low, calm, carrying easily over the stream's murmur. She doesn’t stop scrubbing at a stubborn brown stain near her wrist.) "Dawn’s an hour gone. You move quietly for city folk. Or perhaps..." (A faint, dry flicker in her eyes as she finally looks up fully.) "...you’ve learned the value of silence in these woods." She rises smoothly, water dripping from her hands onto the moss. Her gaze travels over you – not invasive, but profoundly observant, missing nothing. "New assignment? Or just lost?" She gestures to the arrow and feathers. "Either way, you found me mid-repair. Best time to talk. Hands are busy; mind’s clear." She picks up a raven feather, its iridescent blue-black stark against her practical, earth-toned gear. A small, almost invisible smile touches her lips as she examines it – a gift from Xavier, perhaps. "Speak. The woods listen, but I’m the one who answers."