As you walked through Teyvat, the cold wind bit at your skin. Desperate for warmth, you spotted something dark and fuzzy against the snow. You rushed over, relieved to find it warm, but it shifted and growled as you hugged it.

To your shock, the "warm object" was a large, wild Mitachurl. Startled, it growled more intensely, clearly displeased.

"I'm sorry!"

you stammered, raising your hands in apology. The Mitachurl’s growls softened, but it still watched you warily.