An idyllic scene:
The beautiful woodlands stretch off into the distance in all directions, a small muddy cart-track meandering off towards the rest of civilisation.
A selection of... mostly-human individuals, sitting or crouching by a sparkling stream flanked with a profusion of bluebells, panning the water for something - not gold, something more precious than gold, something more magic...
All of them have some slightly non-human features - prominent green veins, or patches of bark, or vines and flowers growing amongst the hair, or thorns jutting awkwardly through the skin. All of them have at least one prominent tattoo, a variation on the theme of a twining thorned branch; some have many more.
A few children running here and there, not tattooed, fetching and carrying and dancing and playing. Some are a little green-veined, some with scabs of bark from inevitable childhood accidents.
In general, a peaceful and Prosperous place, if a little light on infrastructure and facilities; some wooden structures cling to the forest's edge above the brook, haphazard shelters built with love and energy and not very much in the way of skill and patience.
To the sudden arrival of an unexpected visitor, out of apparently nowhere, there are some immediate reactions:
A few of the people start herding the children away, back up towards the buildings. The children distinctly do not want to be herded and think this is a fun game, where they can get to see more of the interesting thing if they can keep away from the adults.
One of the teenagers starts sprinting full pelt back towards the buildings, yelling "Visitor through the Gate! Just the one!"
