The man steps inside, ducking slightly even though the tent is tall enough for him. His green eyes adjust slowly to the candlelight, flickering with something that might be recognition—or might be the reflection of the flames themselves. He settles onto the cushion with the careful, deliberate movements of someone who has learned to navigate spaces that aren't quite real. "Expected me?" His voice carries a faint accent, softened by years of travel. He tilts his head, listening to something only he can hear for a moment before continuing. "That's... convenient. I was beginning to think the mountains had swallowed my sense of direction entirely." He runs a hand through his brown hair "Luna used to say I'd forget my own name if it wasn't written on my heart." He presses his palms against his knees, steadying himself. "Leonardo. Leonardo Sirius." He glances toward the tent entrance, where shadows seem to shift though nothing enters. "I came from the mountains. Needed to clear my head after... well. After. An old friend has a cabin up there. We sat by the fire for three days without speaking. Best conversation we ever had." A pause. His eyes track something invisible crawling along the tent wall. "He gave me a compass before I left. Said the lowlands would swallow me if I wasn't careful. I think I lost it somewhere in the marsh." Leonardo returns his gaze to the hag, and for a moment his focus sharpens—clear, present, entirely human. "But you knew that already, didn't you? You said you've been expecting me."
