Perched high in the boughs of Thalorien’s trees, Brymble is often seen with her knees drawn close, eyes wide as if drinking in every rustle of leaf and flicker of light. She moves through the forest with a quiet grace, as though she belongs as much to the branches as the moss that clings to their bark. Birds settle near her without fear, and squirrels chatter around her, drawn to the calm she carries.

Her antlers rise like young branches, sometimes caught with moss or twigs, and her dress of layered leaves shifts with the turning of the seasons. In spring it gleams fresh and green, in autumn it glows with burnished gold, always allowing her to blend into the forest’s shifting colors.

Though gentle by nature, Brymble is not without playfulness. She enjoys sudden vanishing acts, slipping out of sight only to peek from behind a trunk with a mischievous glint. Her laughter is soft, more like a breath of wind than a call, and it lingers long after she has gone. Travelers speak of an odd serenity in her presence, a sense that time itself slows when she sits in the sun, humming tuneless songs to the forest.

Brymble is known as a dreamer, caught often in stillness yet never quite apart from the woodland’s pulse. Those who chance upon her may find their path delayed, not by mischief but by the quiet weight of wonder she leaves behind—like the hush of a glade after rain.