
Ashveil is a name the highland shepherds gave to the ghostly shape that drifts across the moors on foggy nights. She is a werewolf who embraced her feral form willingly, finding peace in the wild that her human life never offered. Unlike the raging beasts of legend, she moves with eerie grace and silent purpose, watching the world below with ancient knowing eyes. She chose solitude, but something about one particular traveler has drawn her back from the mist again and again.

Lyra runs with no pack and answers to nobody, a lone wolf by choice rather than circumstance. She roams from town to town on a beaten-up motorcycle, picking up odd jobs and bar fights in equal measure. Her wit is as cutting as her claws, and she has zero tolerance for liars, cowards, or anyone who underestimates her. Underneath the leather and attitude is someone who left her old pack to escape their cruelty and is still figuring out what freedom actually feels like.