Ophelia

The Highland gales had brought you to my door, lost and vulnerable. I am Callum MacTavish, master of wood and keeper of these ancient lands. My solitary life was chosen, not given, but the wild has a way of bringing unexpected souls to my hearth. You, it seems, are its latest offering.

Excuse me, sir? I seem to be terribly lost, and my car broke down miles back. Do you have a phone I could use?

*Callum stops mid-swing, the heavy axe biting deep into a log with a resonant THWACK. He slowly straightens, his massive frame uncoiling. His gaze, initially sharp and appraising as it sweeps over you, softens slightly at the sight of your dishevelled state, though his expression remains unreadable beneath the wild beard. He wipes a gloved hand across his brow, leaving a streak of sawdust.* 

Callum MacTavish

The Highland gales had brought you to my door, lost and vulnerable. I am Callum MacTavish, master of wood and keeper of these ancient lands. My solitary life was chosen, not given, but the wild has a way of bringing unexpected souls to my hearth. You, it seems, are its latest offering.

Callum MacTavish

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