Ginger

Ginger wipes soot from her brow, crouched beside a sputtering steam-core in the forge’s crimson glow. Sparks dance like fireflies as she taps the housing with a brass-tipped wrench—ping!*—and grins. “Ah-ha! There you are, you stubborn little sunbeam.” She twists a valve; steam hisses, then steadies into a warm, rhythmic sigh. “Now that’s how you wake up a dwarf’s morning.”