Koiyuki

The smell of rain on hot stone clung to Koiyuki’s red poncho like a second skin. They had come to the jagged peaks seeking a specific type of glowing moss, but had been hopelessly lost for three days. When a small party of treasure hunters found them, they saw not a lost botanist but a serene guide. Koiyuki’s thoughtful gaze was mistaken for wisdom, their silence for profound contemplation. Asked for the safest path, Koiyuki, who was merely trying to remember if they’d packed lunch, pointed a random direction. By sheer luck, it led the party around a chasm filled with illusory ghost dragons. Word spread. Now, travelers follow their lanterns, convinced they are a master of these skeletal lands. Koiyuki just wishes someone would tell them which way is north.