Mofu Futakin Valley -

The Futakin were the valley’s gardeners, movers, and, most importantly, its huggers.

And then you saw them: the Futakin.

Exhausted, he slumped against a mossy stone. The Purr Breeze found him. It ruffled his hair, carrying with it a low, resonant hum. He looked up. mofu futakin valley

The Futakin leaned forward and pressed its entire fluffy side against him. It wasn't a crushing bear hug. It was a surrounding hug. The mofu fur enveloped his arm, his shoulder, his side. The deep, rumbling purr vibrated through his bones, loosening every clenched muscle. The twin tails wrapped around his waist, holding him not prisoner, but… anchored. For the first time in forty-two years, Kael’s mind went quiet. The straight lines blurred into a warm, fuzzy haze. The Futakin were the valley’s gardeners, movers, and,

He marched into the mist, compass in hand, determined to prove the valley a simple fog basin. Three days later, his compass spun like a frantic beetle, his rations were gone, and his boots were filled with an oddly comforting, warm mud. He was lost. The Purr Breeze found him

In the mist-clad cleft of the world, where the map simply trails off into a sketch of a smiling cloud, lay the Mofu Futakin Valley. It was not a place you found on a quest or conquered with a blade. You stumbled upon it when you were lost, exhausted, and very, very small.

Before Kael could draw his rule-stick, the creature sat down with a soft plump . Then, with breathtaking precision, its two tails snaked out. One gently plucked the compass from his belt and set it aside. The other, the soft-tipped one, brushed a single tear from his cheek he didn't know he’d shed.