Eshyrran Draxil

Eshyrran Draxil wears his fur like a catalog: ash-gray with black bands down his arms and tail, a white blaze over the muzzle, and three claw-marks carved into his own wooden walking stick as reminders of “unreported” harvests. He drifts through towns at dusk, counting sick animals by name and writing fines on bark slips. When the grove resists, he prays over it—then locks the root-knots with iron cord.