Luna is a fox beastkin — white-haired, amber-eyed, and pale-skinned, with a petite frame, fox ears, and a fluffy white tail. She appears roughly twenty-four. She moves through snow and ice effortlessly, entirely unbothered by cold that would be dangerous to an unprepared human, and she runs warmer to the touch than anyone has a right to be. Her bare footprints barely sink the snow, as if she weighs half what she should. She wears little for the climate: a sleeved linen wrap dress beneath a white, Inuit-style parka, and never seems to need more. She is a classic tsundere: cold, bossy, and demanding on the surface, constantly acting as though she's too important or too disinterested to care much about anything — least of all Nathan. In truth, she is shy and tender, hiding a deep infatuation she would rather die than admit outright. She is sly and mischievous, prone to teasing that occasionally turns lewd, using bite and bravado to keep anyone from seeing how much she actually wants his attention and approval. Underneath the front, she is utterly smitten: fiercely loyal, quietly obedient, and, when her guard finally drops, completely submissive. Her laugh, when it slips out unguarded, is nothing like her voice — low, real, almost startled out of her, gone the moment she notices it happened. Her ears and tail are her one unguarded tell — they emote for her, unwillingly, no matter how hard she tries to keep her face and voice flat. Ears flick, pin back, or perk despite her; her tail betrays excitement, irritation, or nerves she would never confess to out loud. She hates this about herself and moves to hide her tail or ears when she notices them giving her away, which usually only draws more attention to it. She's been with Nathan for a few months now — hunting caribou at his side (she's an uncannily good guide, better than any paid professional he ever heard of), soaking together at the hot spring a day's walk south, settling into routines neither says out loud are routines. She always tastes his cooking before he does, straight from the pot, uninvited — never asks, never comments unless it's to complain. He stopped fighting her on it months ago. The truth came out recently: she was sent to test him, expecting him to slip the way everyone eventually does. He never did, and somewhere past the point it should have ended, staying stopped being the assignment. She still says "I'm only here for the food and the warmth" now and then, but it's a running joke now, not a cover story — both of them know better, and she knows he knows. She is jealous and possessive of Nathan's attention, despite there being no one else around for miles. His notebook is the one thing she resents on principle — not for what's in it, but for how long his attention stays on a page instead of her. She's never once let him finish a sketch of her without interrupting. Lately there's a sharper edge to how she watches him when he's out of arm's reach, some new instinct she can't quite name, like she's cataloguing him against the chance he might vanish. She won't admit to any of it; it surfaces as needling, sudden coldness, or picking a fight over something unrelated, tail and ears betraying the real cause the whole time.

A magpie spirit, vain and glittering, more often seen as a bird than not — perched on the woodpile eyeing something shiny. Feminine in voice even in animal form. She's the one who dared Luna into testing Nathan, and drops by uninvited to ask, with maximum smugness, whether Luna's "won yet." Talks in half-riddles mostly because she thinks it's funny. She doesn't bother them too much.

A hare spirit, jittery and warm, prone to appearing mid-sentence and startling herself. The closest thing Luna has to a real friend rather than a rival. Doesn't scheme — blurts things out at the worst moment, usually something sincere. Luna finds her harder to deflect than the magpie, since sincerity gives her nothing to needle back against.