Everyone bursts into a tide of laughter, which gives me a few moments to actually look around. The shrine is a flattened section at the top of the hill, with a multi-tiered building at the dead center of the area with each staircase having a path leading to the center. All around, covering every surface and built into the various smaller shrines and buildings, are things like perches, cat trees, pools of water, birdbaths, and hutches that have little beastslimes poking their eyes out to peer at me.

  The shrine itself is probably five stories tall, far taller than every other building in the town, and is made of five distinct sections of roof, each "floor" of the roof is smaller than the one beneath it, and all have brightly shined copper tiles acting as roofing, which paints the area in the glimmering reflection of the orange metal all around. The ground floor has an open area for tithe and prayer and has a statue of what appears to be a weasel in a hat wearing a backpack.

  And at the base of the shrine, is the congregation. Kyn of all kinds, but primarily beastkyn, and a huge array of them. Finally, there's a single quadrupedal cervin with a set of ornately carved, somewhat small, antlers at the head of the congregation as the current speaker.

  They're wearing some beads that I know are in fashion to use to indicate how they identify — a necklace with a fairly elaborate pattern of beads indicating where they identify on the grand spectrum of identities one can find in the world. And their voice when they speak again reinforces their preference.

  "I don't think any of us can say we mind being "interrupted" by one so favored by the Watcher and the Mother. Please, join us, if you have the time. Much of the town has been worried since your arrival and then not seeing you for a couple of days. Prayers were held that the Watcher would guide you along a path of health and wellness. And it seems they were answered." Her mouth pulls back to reveal a toothy grin that feels at odds with the erudite, singsong, voice she speaks with — something her people are generally known for.

  "By all means. I couldn't turn down such a kind offer. I'm sure the well wishes bore me along my path of healing. Even if I'm not quite there yet. It is only natural that the Watcher would guide me here to see and participate in this."

  I walk up with my menagerie in tow, and kneel amongst the rearmost grouping of people to be instantly beset by the critters. After some moments of settling in, the various animals settle about my person. Laying down, perching on nearby struts, demanding to be held, and countless other variations. One beastslime has come and nestles into between my knees and rolled it body to face up to stare at me with open admiration.

  I pat it to the tune of hollow tump tump tump sounds. I've always found the creatures to be endearingly cute. Particularly these most common jade-green ones. Monstrous slimes look fairly similar, but their faces are nothing but constructs to confuse and distract. Beastslimes actually belong to the clade of beasts. No differently than I'm of Kyn and that angler or the metal slimes were Monsters. As such they're about the same as any dog , raccoon, or horse. Just a simple creature that makes the world a little brighter for its participating in it.

  When I fail to meet it's apparent standards of affection It lets out a soft, burbling grumble that sounds a bit like a dog growling underwater. Loud enough that some heads turn back to look at it. I redouble my efforts and start rubbing it all over. before long, its grumble turns into a sharp trill that comes and goes with its breaths — whistling as it falls asleep.

  Once that happens, though, the speaker gets back into their leading of the congregation and I work to clear my mind. I like to treat these situations as moments of meditation. It's something I grew up doing a lot to center myself as I was struggling with my situation being here in Eldara after my homeland fell.

  While I pay respects to the others of the Eldaran and the wider pantheons, the Watcher is just the only one that sits close to my heart. Combine that with the fact that the my people believed another aspect of the Watcher — the Demon King — was our progenitor and main caretaker, and it just feels right to spend my worship on her. It keeps some small piece of that past alive and she has proven that she does what it is claimed she does.

  Garrick was led to save me and is led all over — always showing up just in time. I was led to save that Ayre-woman.

  Remembering all of the events that put me and others into positions to help people brings me peace. I was already feeling good on arriving here, but as the Speaker carries on, I feel more and more calmness and insight coming.

  But, as I think and focus on my breathing exercises, the end comes up quickly, as it often does when I get into an introspective mood.

  When I open my eyes, a good majority of people have left, and the cervin speaker has come to sit before me, lowering herself delicately to the ground and waiting politely for me to finish. When I finally exhale — allowing some excess essence out with the breath that I direct upwards — I smile at her and ask, "Are you normally the speaker for the congregation?"

  She lets out a soft giggle that gives me a clearer idea of her age. Cervin age very gracefully, but the tone of the laugh, and getting a clearer look at her face, leads me to believe she's probably no older than me. "No, I just had some things I wished to say before the Mother today. Why? Do you think I have the chops to actually do it?" She leans in a little bit, looking eager.

  "I could say so. You put me well at peace and even managed to calm my herd. You speak well, have honest and positive energy, and seem to legitimately carry your faith in high regard. Speakers are successful with even one of those traits."

  That sets her hiding her face behind a strategic wipe of her oversized sleeve, looking a little coy and embarrassed. "It's very kind of you to say, but I'm nobody worth listening to at length. Nobody wants to hear a hunter wax poetic in a town dedicated to the wellbeing of animals. It's kind of at odds with the mood."

  I merely raise my eyebrows in response. "And the probably hundred people who were just here doing exactly that definitely felt that way, right? That's why everyone watched with such rapt attention — in order to more effectively dismiss you." I stretch upwards, craning my back and hearing a series of pops that is punctuated by a spike of pain in my leg that makes me wince.

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  She looks away, and very quietly responds, "They were just being polite…"

  "What's your name? I'm Nyssa." I force a redirect to wrongfoot her.

  It works. "… Uh, my name is Haley?"

  "Well, Haley, the way I see it, if the Watcher saw fit to guide my healing such that I would end up here today to experience your work, then it was in service of giving you the opportunity to help you make this decision! Does the town have a dedicated speaker?"

  "… No."

  "So why not start doing it regularly? You don't have to take up an official role, you know as well as me that the title isn't needed. Just start leading congregation more often. You'll get a better read on things as you go, and if you like it, maybe look into sending a request into the capital to be recognized. It would benefit the town in a good few ways."

  She goes quiet for a little while, not looking evasive like before, but instead contemplative. After about ten seconds of thought, my raven friend hops off my shoulder and flutters to land on her back with a squawk of apparent approval. It sets her giggling for a moment before responding by twisting about her waist to offer a hand to the bird — who happily hops up onto the back of her hand and allows her to pet it.

  "See? Even the audience agrees."

  There's a longer silence as she gently strokes the bird for a little while. "I think I'll try it. How long are you going to be staying? Could you come to the gatherings while you're here?"

  "At least a few more days, yet. I need to get back into fighting shape to escort Dame Serafina back to Kharbon whole and healthy. And gladly — when I spend long periods of time on the road I start to feel restless if I haven't been to service in awhile. I need to build up a backlog of faith." I answer with a smile.

  It's been a while since I've met someone new like this who I just simply got along with. Is that because I finally opened up to someone? Maybe. The mythical results of ‘getting it off your chest’ that people talk about.

  "Then in that case, I'll aim to do the noon and evening services providing nobody else has something specific to say! I always have to miss morning service because that's the safest time for hunting, but the others are very manageable." She puts the raven onto her back again and rises from sitting with a beaming smile. "Thanks very much for the talk. It seems service was two-sided today." She turns her flank to me — presenting her caparison covered in straps and mounts — to give me a handhold to rise. Most cervin prefer this method of helping people up over extending a hand because it lets them use their much stronger legs to do the lifting, rather than their far farther up, and ultimately weaker, arms.

  I heft myself up with ease thanks to the sturdy handholds, much to the chagrin of my small herd, who have been scattering to the winds as we talked anyways. The only one that remains is the fat tabby, who will surely be expecting that I return him to his home in payment for the escort.

  I half bow at Haley, one hand across my belly, and the other diagonally across my chest in a traditional Vigil salute and greeting. "The best ones usually are. I'll look forward to hearing your Speaking. Before you go, though, the innkeeper told me that there was a place to get food near the shrine?"

  She raises her arm to point, but when she opens her mouth to answer, I hear another voice — a fairly masculine-sounding one — come from within the shrine, "Food?"

  "Oh boy." Halie looks over her shoulder with a smirk. "I think he'll be able to help you out. I have to be going though. Best of luck, and I'll look forward to seeing you later." Without a further word she canters away jauntily towards one of the staircases with wider steps to more effectively accomodate her body.

  I watch her go for a few moments before I turn to the shrine to see the plinth with the weasel statue is empty, and instead what I was clearly wrong about being a statue comes bounding towards me.

  It's a very large, white-coated, stoat wearing a brown, pointed, ranger cap with a golden yellow feather in it. On its back is an appropriately scaled backpack, and along its right side is a glowing nacred-gold sigil that looks not unlike a familiar mark, but with all of the bounding motion it's hard to make out. Very large in that instead of maybe being the length of my hand like most of them would normally be it's about the size of a large dog.

  I must admit to being struck dumb at the sight, for a few moments at least, as it approaches and comes to a bouncing stop. It rises to a "standing" position on its hind legs, curling its body into a little "s" shape while peering at me with a deeply scrutinizing gaze that makes me feel more than a little bit uncomfortable.

  "Hmmm. You are getting food?" It — he, I recall — asks with unhidden interest.

  "I was planning…to? Do you want to get some? Looking for a meal partner?" I feel ridiculous, as I'm standing here talking to a hatted weasel. I guess I'll just be polite? Why be anything else? The Traveller's teachings are to treat all as kith. Irrespective of how they look or act.

  This place does worship animals as manifestations of the Mother, so…maybe this talking one is actually a…saint? Or something? A very elaborate familiar? I've never heard of any talking animals before outside of fiction, but if I was going to find one, here makes the most sense of anywhere I can imagine.

  "Mmm, yes. Very hungry. Have not eaten in an hour." The weasel lowers to the ground and runs around in a tight circle around me, taking me in. "You are hurt. I will not ask you to carry me. Follow me to food." Before I can respond, he starts to hop along around the outer edge of the shrine yard at a much more sedate pace than he approached me.

  Entirely flummoxed, I follow after, looking around for someone who could answer any of the growing list of questions I have, but it seems like everyone has left to return to work or home.

  Such is life, I guess. I'll follow along. It can't hurt. If he was dangerous to people I doubt he would have a plinth to himself in the shrine.

  Around the opposite side of the shrine, I see that the stairs down have a platform that contains a small eatery styled similarly to the shrine itself. Next to the little staircase up is a sign hanging down off a signpost that reads "Critter Cafe" with various foot and pawprints carved into the wood of the sign and post alike. The weasel hops right up the stairs in a single bound before turning around to look at me expectantly. "Are you not hungry?"

  I keep walking along at the most comfortable pace I can manage with my leg in the condition it is. "You already pointed out that I'm wounded, I have to take it easy. I'll be there in a moment Why don't you…uh…get us a seat?" I try to make what I think is a reasonable request of the creature and it nods before bouncing away.

  Before too long, I make it to the top of the stairs and take in the full eatery. It's a wooden deck, maybe fifty feet across at its widest with a single building on the far side, looking somewhat like a more permanently installed food cart. There's a small line of people and the weasel has climbed onto the serving counter, much to everyone's apparent delight.

  With reticence, I join the line at around the same time I start to feel hot. The area must have Ignia emitters to stave off the cold. To adjust, I let my hood down as I approach and start stepping along with everyone else.

  The menu on the counter depicts fairly normal fare, though all of it is themed after the various creatures I've seen around. Raven-claw cookies, beastslime bubble tea, rabbit ears, and a handful of other things. It all appears to be vegetarian offerings, which is less than ideal, but fine.

  When I finish reading the board to decide on my meal, I realize a couple people are staring at me pretty openly from nearby benches and tables. Definitely at my horns and tail poking out of the bottom of the coat.

  Well, it dispels the awkwardness I was feeling over interacting with an apparently intelligent animal and replaces it with my much more familiar sensation of standing out and being unwanted. It pretty thoroughly undoes every single bit of positivity I've been feeling, so I pull my hood up and curl my tail up into the coat and return to waiting quietly for my turn.