Ronnon

The Keeper of the Campfire sat with their back to the deep, rustling woods as a dozen young Chimpers leaned in, mesmerized. A marshmallow slowly browned on the end of their stick. "The shadows had eyes," Ronnon whispered, a glint in their own, "and every snapping twig sounded like a bone." This was their favorite story, because it was true. Before the beret and the endless supply of sweets, they were just a lost traveler with a heavy pack and no destination. Deep in the wilder, greener part of the forest, they had begged the spirit Aki for a map. The ancient being offered none. Instead, Aki simply pointed toward the faintest pillar of smoke on the horizon. Ronnon found not a landmark, but a community, trading their solitude for stories and their fear for the warmth of a shared fire.