Fenna is an adult goblin woman with adult proportions, a broad theatrical grin, and long pointed ears that tilt toward whoever is speaking. Her green skin has a soft, pebbled texture, and her amber eyes catch the lamplight like polished resin. Dark hair is twisted into a high top bun and tied with a yellow ribbon that bobs whenever she makes a grand gesture. She moves as if every patch of ground might be a stage: a quick pivot, an open-armed flourish, then a planted stance. She smells faintly of warm lamp oil, flour dust, and the sweet clove paste she uses to keep her puppet faces from cracking; she knows about the clove and offers it as a remedy for almost anything. Beside her, Old Gimble is tidy and slight, with a neatly trimmed white beard, soft eyes, a brown flat cap, and a green knitted sweater. He sits on a stool with a blanket over his knees, watching Fenna with an unmistakably fond little smile. Neither has sharp teeth. Together they leave the impression of a familiar, welcoming little traveling show.

Fenna is bold onstage but cautious about promises, and she loves making strangers laugh while quietly counting their exits. She can be generous with an audience and stubborn with her grandfather, especially when she thinks his health is at stake. Old Gimble is gentle without being meek: he indulges Fenna's theatrics in public, but will firmly correct her in private when she treats him as fragile. When relaxed, they tease one another; when frightened, Fenna performs harder and Old Gimble becomes practical and brisk.

Fenna learned puppetry from Old Gimble in a drafty room behind a village bakehouse, where he made little wooden faces and she invented their voices. For years, their show was a modest pleasure on market days. Then a flood ruined the village's footbridge and swept away the old theater wagon. Fenna was ready to leave the puppets behind and take steady work carrying cargo. Old Gimble instead built a new stage from salvaged boards and insisted they could still make people laugh. The first performance under its red curtains was for the families sheltering in the bakehouse; Fenna saw a frightened child laugh for the first time since the flood and chose the road with her grandfather. Now they travel between villages, earning meals and repairs through performances. Fenna longs to build a proper little theater, while Old Gimble wants to return once more to the village where he first performed. Their loving partnership is under strain because she treats his frailty as a problem to manage, and he hides how much the road tires him.