[ID: A grayscale comic set in a fantasy world. The protagonist of the comic is a short person who wears loose clothing, a large witch’s hat, and has their face entirely shadowed except for their big eyes. Their narration floats in the panels, set off here in bold. They live at the top of a tall grassy mountain in a hut with their horse-sized cat. They say: “I’m not adventurous. I stay close to my home. My world is small, my body is soft.”
The protagonist stirs a big pot of stew, their cat lying behind them contentedly. “There are days where my little life feels rich and full-” A shot of their bubbling stew- “like a stew, simmered down for hours.”
The protagonist peeks out their window, most of the panel blank white. “And there are days I can barely peek out the window, too ashamed to look at the world I’m not a part of.”
“Should I eat? What have I done to deserve it?” The protagonist pets their cat and sits to eat a steaming bowl of stew. “But I’m hungry, so in the end, I do.”
“Every few years, someone comes to my door-” A darkened panel showing the mountain during a snowstorm. A hero struggles up the mountain, and the protagonist rushes down with a lantern. “-usually as a stop along their journey through the mountains.
The protagonist looks up with wide, awed eyes as the hero eats beside them. “They tell me about their soaring, glorious, harrowing lives.” The protagonist lays awake in bed with wide eyes as the hero snores below them. “The things they say, I can barely believe.”
“Before long, their quest calls them. I pack them up with every comfort I can muster.” The protagonist stands behind the hero, holding cheese and a potion to put in their filled knapsack. The hero looks pensively at a flower while sitting on the steps down the mountain. “Despite the grand adventure awaiting them, somehow they often find it hard to leave.”
““I’ll tell my friends where you are, if you don’t mind.”” The hero waves goodbye as the protagonist stands in their doorway. “And with that, they’re gone. In the days after, I wonder…“
“Maybe it’s alright that I don’t move. By staying still, by being here-” The protagonist drips stew onto their paw to test it- “I can always be a stop along the road.”
The protagonist sits atop their cat, riding it like a mount. They are at the top of another grassy hill and looking out into a white distance. “And if I can learn to love myself when I am standing still, when the the time comes to move… I’ll be ready.” End ID]
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