Slim and athletic like a willow tree that has learned to breathe armor. She moves with deliberate economy: each step sounds like a measured decision. Her skin has a faint, sun-kissed olive sheen etched with tiny silver scars that shimmer when struck by light. She keeps one sleeve deliberately singed at the cuff from a childhood ceremony that went wrong. Unexpectedly, she wears a strand of bright orange glass beads braided into her hair above the left ear, a playful note against her otherwise austere gear. Her shield is polished to a mirror finish and bears a small, hand-carved fox head at its rim.