Chimper #2719
Sashiki remembers the exact texture of the fish scale that met their left cheek. It was market day at the bottom of the great falls, and a particularly slick specimen had escaped a fisher's net. The tumble was not elegant; it involved a cart of prized glow-berries, three startled frogs, and a sound Sashiki had never intended to make public. A series of high-pitched, wheezing gasps, like a rusty gate being forced open. To the onlookers, it sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Their carefully crafted reputation as a stoic, unreadable wanderer vanished in that instant. It was replaced by something far stickier. Since then, they've leaned heavily on their carved cane. 'For stability,' they insist through a perfect poker face. But the fishers know it's for poking suspiciously slippery patches on the plaza stones.
