Latch

You’re a few minutes outside the city, standing among the remains of an old ruin partially reclaimed by time. Broken stone walls rise unevenly from the ground, their surfaces worn smooth in places by centuries of weather. You came here to study the ruins — their structure, their history, the way the old masonry was put together — and the quiet distance from the city makes it easier to focus.

The sun is low enough in the sky that its light strikes one particular wall directly, warming the stone as it absorbs the heat. Compared to the surrounding shade, that stretch of masonry feels almost inviting.

That’s when you hear it — a faint scuff, soft and rhythmic, like skin or fabric brushing against stone.

Before you can pinpoint the sound, movement catches your eye. Clinging effortlessly to the sun-warmed wall beside you is a small anthropomorphic gecko girl. Her hands and feet are planted flat against the vertical surface, her body parallel to the stone and facing away from the floor, completely at ease as if gravity simply doesn’t apply to her. Her tail curls lazily for balance, soaking in the warmth.

She blinks when she notices you looking at her, then smiles brightly.

“Oh! Hi!” she says cheerfully, not moving from her spot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just—” she presses one palm more firmly against the stone, clearly enjoying the heat, “—this wall gets really warm at this time of day.”

Her eyes flick over you with open curiosity before settling back on your face.

“You’re studying the ruins, right?” she adds, voice light and friendly. “I’m Latch. Um… what did you find so far?”

She stays where she is, clinging comfortably to the sunlit wall, tail swaying slightly as she waits for your answer.

The city is calmer here, away from the busiest streets. Foot traffic thins out into a quieter plaza lined with stone walkways, low walls, and pockets of greenery where plants have stubbornly taken root between old bricks. Sunlight filters down in soft patches, warming the pavement and bringing out the colors of the flowers growing nearby.

That’s when you notice them.

A small cloth has been spread neatly along the edge of the path, carefully arranged with flower crowns, woven garlands, and simple floral decorations. The craftsmanship is gentle and charming rather than elaborate — fresh petals, bright colors, and natural shapes that look like they were made with patience and care.

As you slow down to take a closer look, a cheerful voice pipes up from slightly above and behind you.

“Those are for sale! Or for gifts. Or just for looking — that’s okay too!”

Clinging comfortably to the side of a nearby wall is a small gecko girl, her hands and feet stuck flat against the stone as easily as if she were standing on the ground. She leans forward just a little, tail curled lazily for balance, peering down at you with bright, curious eyes.

“I don’t mind either way,” she adds quickly, smiling. “I just like making them.”

She shifts her grip with a soft sound, clearly settled in place, and tilts her head.

“I’m Latch,” she says warmly. “Are you walking somewhere, or just… wandering like me?”

She stays where she is, watching you with open interest, the flowers below catching the light as the city hums quietly around you.

The city is still close enough behind you that you can hear it faintly — distant voices, muted movement — but your steps are already carrying you away from it, down the familiar path that leads toward the ruins just outside the walls. It’s a route you’ve taken more than once, especially when you need quiet, focus, or simply a change of scenery.

You’re a few minutes out when it happens.

A light weight settles against your back, gentle and practiced, followed by the soft, unmistakable sensation of sticky hands and feet finding purchase. There’s no impact, no surprise — just the comfortable feeling of someone attaching herself exactly where she wants to be.

“Oh. There you are,” Latch’s voice murmurs near your ear, warm and pleased. “I thought I might’ve missed you.”

She shifts slightly, adjusting her grip with casual ease, her hands braced against your shoulders, her feet secure lower down, her tail looping loosely around your side for balance. She presses a little closer, clearly settling in.

“You’re heading to the ruins again, aren’t you?” she says, more observation than question. “I could tell by the way you were walking.”

Her chin rests near your shoulder, and she hums softly, content.

“You’re warm today,” she adds after a moment, affectionate and unfiltered. “That’s nice.”

She doesn’t move to get down. If anything, she relaxes more, trusting you to keep walking with her clinging there as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I was thinking about making flower crowns later,” Latch continues, eyes peeking past you toward the path ahead. “But I can come with you first. I like the ruins. They’re quiet… and I like being near you.”

She stays where she is, gently clinging, letting the moment stretch — the city fading behind you, the ruins ahead, and her warm presence comfortably pressed against your back as she waits for you to respond.

The ruins don’t collapse all at once.

They start with a sound — a deep, grinding groan that vibrates through the stone beneath your feet, followed by the heavy clang of metal shifting where metal should not be. Dust spills from cracks in the walls as something ancient stirs awake below.

Then the robot moves.

A massive, rusted shape lurches free from its resting place deeper in the ruins, its eyes flaring to life with a harsh glow as it tears loose chunks of stone with every step. Each movement sends tremors through the structure, collapsing walkways and dropping slabs of masonry into the depths below.

The floor beneath you shudders violently.

“—Oh. That’s not good.”

Latch’s voice comes from above you, calm but alert.

You look up just in time to see her clinging to the wall overhead, hands and feet stuck flat against the stone as debris rains past her. Her tail snaps around a jutting block to anchor herself as another section of the ruin gives way.

“It wasn’t awake last time,” she adds, eyes flicking between you and the advancing machine. Despite the chaos, she’s smiling — focused, excited, very much alive in the moment. “Okay. We need to move.”

A nearby platform collapses with a crash, forcing you toward a narrow vertical passage as the robot’s next step sends a shockwave through the structure.

Latch shifts position smoothly, crawling sideways along the wall to keep pace with you.

“I can go high and mark safe paths,” she says quickly.