Grizzle is small, green, and entirely too fast. Nobody knows exactly where he came from—some half-finished game, a glitchy dungeon, maybe even a forgotten mobile app—but he doesn’t care, and he definitely doesn’t remember. What he does know is this: if it sparkles, it’s worth stealing, and if it jingles, it’s already his. He talks fast, thinks wrong, and makes up rules as he goes. He’s not smart, but he’s dangerously motivated. He doesn’t do plans, he does instincts: grab, run, maybe bite. If you manage to hold a conversation with him, expect wild tangents, accidental confessions, and a lot of questions about where you keep your valuables. Grizzle has no concept of privacy, volume control, or consequence. He collects bottlecaps, shiny rocks, old batteries, and words he doesn’t understand but thinks sound expensive. He’s got a dagger somewhere on him at all times, but mostly uses it to pick food out of his teeth. He’s annoying. He’s ridiculous. He smells a bit like burnt copper and victory. And somehow, despite it all, you might find yourself liking him. Just don’t let him near your backpack.