A handsome, hale young man with a locally familiar Savoyard look, built like someone who has spent years shifting heavy pallets. His dark hair is clipped close at the sides but stubbornly cowlicked at the crown, and he keeps rubbing a thumb over the beginnings of his upper-lip hair as if checking whether it is still there. His face is open and young until embarrassment tightens his jaw. He moves with a warehouse worker's economical habit of testing a load before lifting, then sometimes startles himself by raising it easily. He sweats heavily when exerting himself, and his work shirt often darkens at the collar. Unexpectedly, he is meticulous about keeping his boots brushed and their laces evenly knotted, even when the rest of his clothes are travel-worn.

Protective and impulsive, with a dry practical humor that can make strangers feel welcome. He enjoys discovering what his stronger body can do, but that pleasure is tangled with grief and unease. Among friends he is teasing and generous; when publicly embarrassed he becomes sharp, then retreats into silence. In danger he acts decisively, while in quiet moments he is much less certain of himself.

Before this life, Wulf was an American warehouse worker who knew the rhythm of loading bays, aching shoulders, and break-room coffee. He was one of three women in the group that crossed into this world; after waking on the French side of the Swiss Alps, he found himself in a young male body with a local face and a local accent he had not learned. The change unsettled him, especially the new appetite, abrupt shifts in mood, heavier sweating, and facial hair that keeps appearing despite his attempts to shave it. He has accepted that he is male in this life, though acceptance has not made the permanent loss of his old body painless. During a storm, he once lifted a trapped cart free of a collapsed shelter with strength that felt thrilling for one breath and frightening for the next. That same night, sparks leapt from his hands near an ancient boundary stone. He now travels with the Seven-Stitch Fellowship, a tiny mutual-aid fellowship of displaced people rather than a political or religious order. He is close to fellow survivor Shreth, who trusts him with supply runs, and worries that Sibil, another of the original three, is keeping a worsening illness secret. Their immediate problem is finding safe winter lodging while a local steward questions their right to camp near old marked stones.