Kajua

In the highlands, the great monoliths catch the sunset and cast shadows that hum with forgotten magic. Kajua finds the sound makes for a nice walking rhythm. They were meant to be traveling alone, a quiet journey through the glowing canyons, but they picked up a companion near a collapsed wizard's tower. The companion, a chittering youth named Pip, is the reason for the persistent smudge of jam on Kajua’s cheek and why their carved cane is now adept at fishing lost socks out of crevices. Pip is always dropping things. Kajua is always retrieving them. They make an odd pair—the half-asleep wanderer and the whirlwind of clumsy energy—but Pip brings stories, and Kajua brings a steady path forward. One needs the noise, the other needs the quiet.