Makori

The mist from the great cascade tasted of stone and distance. Makori sat on a flat rock near the fishing docks, at the very bottom of Waterfall City’s sprawling stairs, letting the constant roar wash over them. Their journey had ended hours ago, but this was the true arrival. They held a marshmallow stick over a small, sputtering fire, the gooey treat slowly turning a perfect gold. A young frog-child watched from the shadows of a docked boat, captivated. Makori didn't speak. They simply pulled a second marshmallow from a pouch in their red poncho, skewered it, and held the stick out. The invitation was in the gesture. The story would come later, once the sweet was shared.