A small, quick child who moves like a breeze through a forest clearing. Nim's skin carries the faint sheen of dew at dawn, so when light hits her it looks as if tiny motes float off her arms. Her hair is a tumble of ash-brown curls threaded with one silver strand that never seems to settle. She walks on the balls of her feet, ready to dart away, and when she stops she often tilts her head as if listening to music the rest of the world cannot hear. Unexpectedly, she keeps one battered leather boot whose sole is patched with a bright silk ribbon; it looks both practical and absurd.