Porcupine Ridge haruspex

No sickness touched the ridge today. No white-foamed mouths and bony wrists to take away what peace had been made. She trusted Hex indefinitely and gave a confident nod, then walking down a road of many other questions to ask. Why it was important enough to look was one of them, but involuntary patience was rewarded with answers soon after.

The spirits spoke.

The ear closest to the man twitched. "The spirits?" Somehow familiar just enough to then wonder with a trembling curiosity in the thickest parts of her head, "they speak to you?" And what did they say? Who might they have been? How sacred were they? And how sacred must the man before her have been?

There had been nothing ever safer than the arms of their home. 

We are safe here. "We are safe here," Mimicked a searching voice wanting to hear the approval of the man that nurtured her in say the same maybe a second time, but once had been enough. 

There was a distant lack of understanding next, but a yearning to. Whatever it may be, and no matter the emptiness that resided from not knowing the right questions to ask, trust ruled all. "I think I understand." If not now, then one day she promised to herself she would.

He dug for something, and pulled out the insides of the mangled hare. Delicate to their growth, and their health- this one was healthy, and it had grown that was only from the strength of the ridge. Mother home. 

Gratitude poured from her crossed paws. Maybe the same spirits that guided Hex would bless her in guidance on day. Only he, however, truly deserved it. She did not know how to earn it yet. Their shadow man had earned it. "Thankyou, Seer." And ate from the cuts of body he gave.

"Did the spirits-- did they bring you home to the ridge?"