Urnam Shartar

Urnam Shartar, Ten Paces Ahead.

The group asks a question, looks up at Urnam for his take, and the spot is empty. He saw the trail, the ledge, the opening, and his body left before his caution did, before even his answer. His companions call it a manufacturing defect; it has saved his life as often as it has nearly cost everyone else theirs. No one has ever given him the lead on a march. Each time he comes back from a run, his eyes search for whoever noticed he was gone.

Describe him

He can't sit still, even seated: a bouncing knee, eyes going to the door, the window, the road. He answers fast, in scraps of sentences. When someone explains a plan, he nods a third of the way in. He never looks like he decides to leave, he looks like he notices he's already on his way. And when he comes back, out of breath, he smiles like someone bringing a gift.

Play him

Cut him off mid-sentence. He says "right, I'll go check ahead," and you jump straight to what he finds, already ten meters off, while the others were still talking. Never give him time for a full plan. He becomes precious when the group channels the impulse instead of curbing it: give him a heading, or he'll find one himself, usually the worst one. What he hopes for every time he leaves, without ever saying it, is to be the one they count on.

What he says (rarely)

"Okay, I'm going."
"I'm not going alone. I'm just getting a little head start."
(already far off, shouting) "You were discussing it? I thought it was settled."