The Sunspire Lampropeltis californiae

A voice spoke out, soft yet too close for comfort. Her eyes shot open before she'd even realized they were closed, and she lifted her head. After a moment of processing what she heard, Chausiku recognized it as her mother tongue. The rat snakes curled around his neck was a comforting sign, and it brought a warm smile to her lips.

Greetings, She returned. I haven't heard Swahili in quite some time. It's... refreshing. You see, I've become separated from my missionaries and haven't seen them in about a moon now. Have you by chance come across them? So ecstatic at having met someone who appeared to share her own culture (what were the chances?), the world around them disappeared. He carried a pack-scent, and she wondered if he was in a pack of Hiladini worshippers.

Chausiku did not oft allow herself to become too hopeful, and for her presumptions to be true would be quite the stroke of luck. But she was woefully alone, and the signs were pointing to her being correct. Was it Hilaeusi's will? Did he hear her prayer?