Shunkou

The most dependable trader in The Heart of the Forest woke with their cheek pressed into the damp earth, their neatly knotted tie askew. The clearing was a disaster zone—splintered bamboo and scattered wares told the story of the previous night. A pack of wild things from the outer green had descended, drawn by the scent of the rare silver-striped bamboo Shunkou was preparing for a client. They hadn't run. They had fought, using nothing but the very stock they were protecting, their craftsman's hands turning sturdy poles into defensive weapons. They drove the creatures back by dawn, then collapsed. For a moment, they just lay there. Then, with a practiced calm, Shunkou pushed themself up, brushed the dirt from their shirt, and began to salvage what they could, their poker face firmly back in place.