Minokari

One scorched poncho, two empty bamboo flasks, and a story that always ends with a half-truth. Minokari sits by a small fire pit, the purple hues of The Great Panda City deepening around them. The freezing wind whips through the bamboo-lined streets, a welcome chill against the scarred skin on their back. A younger chimper, mesmerized by the tale, points. "How did you get those marks?" For a second, the KO'd exhaustion in Minokari's eyes isn't from the road. It’s from the memory of a different fire, a presence of pure heat and malice they now know was Inferuno. The air tasted of ash, and the world screamed. But they just smile, poke a marshmallow into the flames, and say, "That's a story for another night. This one is about a very clumsy dragon."