wishes of happiness and prosperity

He was confident, now, that the might of Neverwinter Forest would grow. Their number was strengthening despite the cold season (or perhaps because of), and Khotan was determined to ensure that they would become timeless legend. There were rituals that he had stored away in his memory, passed down through generations of his family's bloodline. Rituals of protection, of healing, of prosperity, and of hope. He was no spiritual leader, not like his grandfather or brothers—but with no other to perform the rituals, it was something he knew he must carry out on his own.

A swath of feathers lay before him; hawk, osprey, owl, dove. Intermingled were the rounded stones he had managed to find beneath the snow, pulling them loose from the frozen soil. Having arrived in the dead of winter, there were no herbs to augment the small ceremony—Khotan did not yet have stores of them, but he had faith that the great spirits would know his intent and protect this land.

He arranged them carefully into a pattern, with the stones at the center. The feathers expanded outward in a circle around them, each carrying their own meaning and prayer. For a moment, his warrior pride almost stopped him—but despite the singing in his blood, this place would never feel like home without the proper rituals. Khotan took a deep breath of the cold air and began to circle the pattern of feathers and stone with slow, purposeful steps. A low, rumbling chant escaped him, following the rhythm set by the steps of his paws.