Big Salmon Lake Shinkō

The man spoke of his prayers and the reason for them. He believed that the strength Shiranui had shown was a gift from his God. The white wolf did not agree with such matters. He had not been born into his strength. He had traveled many winding paths, had sculpted his strength from the mold he had been given. Perhaps the God had granted him a body, yes, but it had not been God who had formed it to be what it was.

Nevertheless, Shiranui did not wish to cause distrust in his traveling companion. He frowned thoughtfully. The sway of his tail slowed to a stop. The red of his eyes drifted to the otters that he had caught, wondering what prayer would do for them after they were dead.

A small whine was issued.

Shiranui reclined to sit, waiting for the man to mutter his words so that they could eat.