Enishi

When the first amber leaf of autumn detaches from its branch, the storytellers in the clearing say Enishi is rehearsing a new tale for the harvest festival. They speak of a charming noble whose feather cape catches the firelight just so, their carved cane merely a prop for dramatic gestures. To them, the frog patch over Enishi's eye is the mark of a poet, not a brawler. Yet, those who trap in the wilder, greener fringes of the forest have seen that same cane crack the spine of a river beast with a single, brutal swing. They claim the patch covers not a wound, but a memory of a fight too fierce for festival songs. One child asked Enishi which story was true. They just smiled, a thousand wrinkles forming, and tapped their cane twice on the packed earth.