Kairou

The constant mist from the falls settled on their fur, a cool dampness Kairou had known their whole life. They were a veteran warrior, their grey bandana a familiar sight during playful spars near the great fish statue. But the embers that smoldered on their back spoke of a past forged in fire, not water. It was a story they never told until they met a net-mender from the lower levels, whose quiet hands moved with a different kind of grace. The mender didn't ask about battles fought. They simply traced the edge of the heat one day and said it felt like a banked hearth. In their company, Kairou’s fierce energy softened from a blaze into a warm, protective glow. Kairou still wears the bandana, but the wildest glint in their eyes is now reserved for the one who saw a home in their fire.