Makoko

Just send Makoko. The message will get there before the rain does. That's what they say in the high-altitude chill of The Great Panda City. And it's true. Makoko moves through the bamboo-lined streets as a furious blur, their yellow bandana a streak against the purple sky. They don't feel the freezing winds; a different kind of cold has lived in their veins ever since they brushed against the same annihilating darkness that claimed Inparusu. That event left them with two things: a jagged scar across their face and a frantic, humming energy that has to be spent. So they run. Each delivery is a race against the echo in their mind, a desperate need to move faster than their own thoughts. The fury in their eyes isn't for anyone else. It's for the stillness they can never return to.