Hikaho

Hikaho held the stick over the small fire, turning it slowly until the marshmallow was a perfect, toasted brown. The warmth was a lie. It always was. They remembered a different fire, one that consumed a watchtower on the edge of The Great Panda City while they scrambled down the far side, ignoring the cries of their post-partner. The Panda Council exiled them for it, stripping them of their armor but not their shame. Since then, they wander the lower streets, gathering strays and runaways around small, carefully tended flames. They offer a warm sweet and a story—never of their own cowardice, but always of heroes who held the line when all was lost. They pass the toasted marshmallow to a young chimper, their own face hidden behind dark shades, reflecting a flame they can never seem to get warm enough from.