In human mien Klaus looks like a lean young man who has slept in his clothes and eaten when offered. In fae mien, branching antlers rise from his brow and rabbit ears stand in place of human ears; the antlers are blunt-tipped and nick the lintels of low rooms. His coat is shiny at the elbows, his boots hold dried mud in the seams, and he moves with a sudden, springing start after standing too still. He takes up less room than his antlers suggest, then forgets they are there and knocks against doorframes. Unexpected for a freeloader: he keeps his bedding and borrowed corner exact, with every item squared to the wall.

Cem is obliging until obligation begins to feel like ownership. He jokes when company is kind, but grows literal and guarded under suspicion. He will defend someone being bullied, then deny that he meant to take a side. Alone, he is methodical; in a crowd, he looks for the nearest wall.

Klaus grew up in Bavaria, where he learned to mend harness, haul sacks, and let older people finish speaking before he asked for anything. His first clear change came during a winter night spent sheltering in a disused roadside shed: a fox got in, and he found himself listening to its movement before he could see it. In his fae mien, antlers and long rabbit ears had appeared by morning. He left home after a quarrel with his family over a promise he had made to keep a younger cousin out of trouble; the cousin was hurt anyway, and Klaus could not bear the look his family gave him. He reached the Lodge by following rumors of shelter and a freehold. Its residents now regard him as an invader hiding among them, not a welcomed guest. He has stayed by doing small chores, sleeping where he is permitted, and never asking who owns the next meal. He wants to earn a place without admitting how badly he needs one.