Hideaway Strath they lifted up their eyes and beheld, a company come bearing balm and myrrh,

Behold, before him creeps a beast of excess, draped in shadow deeper than the weald. A burdened figure swaggers, ursine, from the depths. Silverlight chances across a broad, flat muzzle and gathers ruefully within familiar eyes. They shine, Gilead watching carefully, and he is temporarily thrown by how bright they are; twin suns, nearly so.
He tips his chin to subtly protect his throat while drawing attention with his voice, friendly enough, with a patience and a fortitude oft found in the devout. How fortuitous. My Lord has spoken to me, sending me to serve among your people. I am Gilead, I walk with the Dawn. Blessed be His light.
He does not know why the Lord would draw him through the darkness with whispers, especially to so shrouded a place, but he tries not to question Him.
The Saints - they are a devoted people? Your flock must be well protected with one such as you to shepherd them. False praise, but well spoken. Gilead must make a good impression.