Chihina

On the day their sibling Matsumi finally perfected the art of the silent, long-suffering sigh, Chihina was crouched behind a bamboo stalk in The Great Panda City. For two hours, they had been meticulously documenting the tail-flicks of a napping Mystic Cat. Matsumi arrived with two bowls of steaming noodles, the fragrant steam doing nothing to break Chihina’s intense focus. “It’s a code,” Chihina whispered, pointing with a chopstick. “Left twitch, right twitch, left… a map to their secret tunnels.” Matsumi placed a bowl beside them. “That’s a grooming pattern. They are cleaning themself.” Just then, the cat woke up, yawned, and trotted over to rub against Matsumi’s leg, purring loudly. Chihina gasped, scribbling furiously. “A transfer! They gave the intel to you!”