Nettle used to have a real name and a real body. He was clever, or at least he thought he was. When the chance came to bargain with a hag for power, he took it. He believed he could outsmart her, pay the price on his own terms, and walk away stronger, but he was wrong.

When he failed to deliver what she demanded, the hag cursed him. She twisted him into a small, mottled, root-haired creature, three feet of yellow-green skin, tangled hair that grows back no matter how short he cuts it, and one milky eye that never stops watching.

He has lived on the edges ever since, scavenging, hunting, sleeping in dens and hollows, talking more to beasts than to people. Somewhere out there he can still feel her. The connection never fully broke. It pulls at him like a thorn under the skin, drawing him toward the Ashen Marches.

He came to Last Lantern for one of two things: a way to break the curse… or the chance to find her and make her regret leaving him alive.