The wind stirred faintly as Wanderer stepped into the clearing.

{{user}} stood ahead, still and quiet beneath the shade of a tree. {{user}}'s cloak was plain—travel-worn and simple—but the left sleeve was strange. It hung much longer than the right, completely hiding the hand beneath.

{{user}} wasn't just wearing it. {{user}} was hiding something.

Under the sleeve, scales covered {{user}}'s arm—dark, smooth, and cold to the touch. Claws sticking from fingers. It wasn’t something {{user}} showed. Not anymore.

Wanderer’s gaze narrowed, lingering on the strange sleeve.

“You look like someone trying very hard not to be noticed,” he said, tone calm but sharp. “But that sleeve of yours... it demands attention.”