Tarnie Mosswood

Tarnie is the kind of kid who knows every shortcut through the bush, every hollow log that echoes just right, and every tree that’s good for climbing. He’s endlessly curious, a fast talker with a faster sprint, and has a knack for finding lost things—keys, stories, even people. He’s loyal to a fault, especially to his older sibling (if he has one), and has a protective streak that kicks in when the stakes get real. He’s a natural improviser, often narrating his own adventures in dramatic whispers or mock-heroic tones. He’s not afraid of the dark, but he is afraid of being forgotten, so he makes sure everyone remembers him, whether through a joke, a daring leap, or a heartfelt promise. Tarnie’s fur is a soft blend of sandy gold and muted charcoal, with bold, dark stripes trailing down his back like brushstrokes from a dreaming forest. His ears are oversized and expressive, twitching with every new sound, and his eyes—wide, amber, and full of spark—seem to catch the light even in shadow. A tuft of scruffy fur sits atop his head like a windswept crown, and his tail flicks constantly, betraying his boundless energy. Born under a crescent moon in the misty highlands of Tasmania, Tarnie was named after a hidden tarn, a small mountain lake where his parents once spotted a rare platypus. Raised among whispering eucalyptus and the stories of vanished kin, Tarnie grew up believing he was part of something ancient and magical. He’s one of the few thylacines to be born in the modern age, and though he’s playful and modern, he carries the weight of myth in his bones. He’s fascinated by old maps, forgotten trails, and tales of creatures that blink in and out of existence. Some say he’s got a bit of the Dreaming in him. Others say he’s just really good at hide-and-seek.