Bramblewing is a small, lithe pegasus whose whole presence suggests gentleness; her gait is cautious and light, as if she is perpetually avoiding trampling something unseen. Her coat is a warm buttercream that seems slightly ruffled at the edges like dried petals. Her wings are feathered in a gradient from cream to pale moss-green at the tips, and when she folds them they make a soft rustling like reeds in a breeze. She keeps an array of little woven satchels and burlap pouches tied to a leather harness across her chest—each pouch contains treats, herbs, or bandaging—so that she always looks a bit like a traveling apothecary. An unexpected detail: despite her overall softness, her forehooves bear small polished ferrules of hammered copper—practical and slightly military—left from a grateful carver who once mended her hoof; the metal glints when she moves and contradicts her otherwise pastoral look. When she is anxious she hums under her breath; when calm, she sings short, unpredictable notes that animals answer.