Phoenix Maplewood the healing of nations

In the comfort of the stranger's embrace, Reek felt utterly exposed. Unguarded and empty. This raw emotional outpouring that passed Reek's lips in the form of a dry sob was far too difficult to suppress. The yearning to be be pure, to be absolved of his guilt, overpowered Reek in a way unlike he had felt before. His knees shook -- his body quaked with manic fervor. She, this strange priestess, held the key to healing within her heart (or at least, Reek believed she did). He would devote himself to anything that came with the promise of making him feel whole once more.

Her voice was soft and sweet -- it lured Reek into a lull and he fell still. "Please," he whispered pleadingly into the scruff of her neck in response to her offer to help. "I want to see the light." Strangely, the thought that there was some sort of divine plan to the chaos brought Reek comfort. That somehow, this stranger had been hand selected to save Reek from his rut. He wanted nothing more than to be part of this plan— to have purpose renewed.

"Come back to the grotto with me," he spoke, still not daring to pull his face away. "I can offer you a place among my pack. You can teach me how to follow -- you can teach us all." Because surely, if it was good enough for Reek, it was good enough for the rest of the grotto.