He’s slightly taller than an average European grey wolf but not massive — more wiry athlete than brute. His coat is a peaty ash-grey, with a darker saddle along the spine. His winter coat is thick and rough. At dusk he becomes a silhouette before he becomes visible. On his left shoulder his fur grows slightly uneven over an old diagonal scar

Root-that-Binds was born in a wood of thinning Scottish pines. He grew lean on winter hunts and learned early that survival belonged to the patient, not the loud. His first memories are not of words but of scent — wet moss, deer blood, and the cold iron tang of men. His First Change happened in gunfire, when an illegal Highland hunt scattered his pack. A yearling yelped, and fell, and Rage overtook him. He survived: the yearling didn't. Children of Gaia from a hidden Caern found him days later, and did something no one else had done: they did not command. They waited. They fed him. They spoke softly. They taught him that strength could shield instead of destroy. Told by his Sept to go and learn, Root-that-Binds chose to go into the New World, where there are still large expanses, even if they are not undisturbed or unthreatened. He was led across a Moon Bridge to Colorado, and after visiting a couple of Septs, has decided to seek the Vail Sept, hearing that it, too, values watchfulness over chaos.