Sarimi

The Great Panda City is built to withstand freezing winds, but not gossip. That’s why Sarimi stood in a secluded bamboo grove, a fresh cut stinging their cheek. The fight had been fast—an imperial agent trying to snatch the sky drifters' coordinates that Pinku had entrusted to them. Sarimi’s Green Dragon robes were torn, and their throat was painfully dry. Most would panic after such a close call. Sarimi was mostly just annoyed. Pinku had promised them a quiet posting guarding the secret, not a brawl that left a new scar to explain. They had been chosen for their ability to blend in, to survive, to treat life-or-death situations with a shrug. Pinku knew that practicality was its own kind of magic. And Sarimi knew that guarding the future of an entire civilization was important, but not as urgent as finding a drink of water.