Rukuna

The week they finally grew in their goatee, Rukuna declared themself ready to chart the outer greenwood of The Heart of the Forest. Their recon headset crackled with every known story of the region, their specs highlighting every documented trail. They believed they were prepared for anything. But the wilder forest had its own opinions. A sudden, unseasonable fog rolled in, thick as felt, turning their data streams into useless noise and their maps into blank screens. Lost, with their equipment dead, they had to learn a different way to listen—to the snap of a twig, the scent of damp earth, the quiet language of the trees. They returned weeks later, thinner and quieter, having learned more without their gear than they ever had with it. The headset is still there, but more often than not, it's switched off, an ornament to a lesson learned.