A compact, sinewy weasel the size of a loaf of bread. His fur is a mottled patchwork of soot-black and bone-white that scars into a subtle spiral over his left shoulder. The topcoat is coarse and slightly oily from nights spent in ruins; the underfur is unexpectedly soft. One ear has a tiny notch and a silver band woven into the fur at its base. His whiskers are long and whip-like, always twitching as if reading the air. When he moves he slides more than strides, body low to the ground with a kind of liquid, serpentine grace. Unexpectedly, his right forepaw is wrapped in a faded scrap of blue ribbon, tied in a neat bow he fiercely insists on keeping clean.