Mount Apikuni That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever

A soft laugh slipped from her lips, light yet knowing. Hemera was always eager to speak of the Lord, to carry His word like a torch against the dark. Her lashes fluttered under the light, casting delicate shadows over her plum gaze.

„Do you believe in God, Matriarche?” Blunt. Intentional. She did not dance around the question this time. Viskani was clever, strong; perhaps even valuable to know. A woman like her could prove valuable, should their paths ever cross again. And if, one day, Hemera sought refuge, she might return, standing at the threshold of the vale. But that thought she kept to herself. The sandwoman needed to tread carefully to earn her favor.

Her tail flicked once as she rose, stepping lightly away from the heavily pregnant woman. „Perhaps the Lord willed our meeting upon this peak,” she mused, her tone weaving certainty into the air around them. Fate, even. Nothing in this world was mere chance. Every moment had its purpose, every meeting a thread in a divine tapestry. If she was here now, it was for a reason. Perhaps her purpose was to guide the De Cigue Matriarche toward repentance. If she would accept it, of course. Hemera was not one to force the will of others. But she always, always, found a way.