Cedar Sweep like carillon bells, the house of Augustus rings

If there was one thing living as quietly as she did had taught her, it was that it was easy to goad others into filling her silences. The air filled with the woman’s explanation, and Passerine nodded her way through it.

I don’t follow it. Truly. Not how I’m “supposed to”. Was her offering to the beginning of the conversation, one side of her lips twitching up over a fang in a half smile. Many gods to appeal to was an attractive notion to a woman stifled, and if she tried to think further back, she perhaps could see a past where she had worshipped as many as the birds who filled the trees around her first and last home. The mention of conquest made her stomach sink leaden in her trunk, but the feeling was dashed when the rest of the sentence registered to her ears.

I have enough slights in the eye of their god to burst into flames a thousand times. After all, no matter how many times they told her otherwise, murder was a cardinal sin. Even when committed for a god she had never seen as hers, more warden of her prison. Perhaps that inspired her daring, even as her heart beat faster the longer she entertained the idea.

Your pack. It’s here? Was the woman a native of this land? Or had she travelled away and ended up here, same as Passerine?