Lost Creek Hollow And an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope

They'd settled on either side of a clearing for the night.  It had passed uneventfully, which was nice -- no larger predators trying to gnaw off their tails in the early hours of the morning or anything.  A good sign, surely.  The pack would probably be arriving sometime in the next twelve hours or so depending on how much they were being slackers, so @Terance and Treason would have to get moving if they were going to get more of the border marked before the rest showed up.

Mornings had gotten quieter as summer had shifted to fall, and though there were distant twittering from particularly stubborn birds that hung around, the wolves hadn't made too much of a fuss on their end of things to start the day.  Sure, there was some yawning and stretching and such things, but not too much in the way of actual conversation thus far.

Or at least there wouldn't be until Treason's wandering thoughts wandered in a direction that to her made perfect sense, but surely to Terance it would seem rather out of place.  And so she asked, rather simply, Was Moonspear a cult?