Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

That day, there was a lot of blood. Maybe enough for an entire village to drink from. It was impossible to know if there was really enough, without seeing anything. In any case, there was blood.

Yet he was not dead. He had already died, but not this time. This time, he was alive, again. On the other hand, he was in pain, so much pain, and felt just as alone. No one was waiting for him. No one, except a cowardly traitor who had sided with his brother. The air smelled of death. It could only be him.

He could not find his crown. It was his crown that allowed him to see. He was deprived of that sense. He remembered his brother's face, a monstrous face. He remembered the feeling of blood, flowing from his face to his hands. No matter how much he waved his arms in all directions and called out again and again, his crown would not come back to him.

He could no longer see anything. He no longer had a crown. Thus was the fate to which his mistakes had condemned him; he would never see again, never again.

- Would you look at that! That steak is huge!

Another day at the Lamb’s community camp, spent living a quiet little life as if nothing had happened. Leshy, former god of chaos, sowing terror and misery on a territory that none other than his followers dared to tread, now sows only spices on meat and vegetables, or leaves of who-knows-what herbs on a glass of homemade alcohol. When he is not busy serving the Lamb – which should already be enough to make him suffer his wrath – he is content to wander underground, to annoy the most naive followers or to teach pranks to children. Most of the time, however, he must work if only to really occupy his mind.

It is so frustrating to go from the Emperor of DarkWood to… This thing. This miserable little thing cooking miserable little steaks for miserable little followers. And the Lamb sees all this. He looks at it all, from the top of his supposed pedestal, with a smile that makes you want to break his teeth one by one. It is very likely that it amuses him, for him to be smiling so much. After all, it is the Lamb who killed him twice, it is the Lamb who seeks to reunite the former bishops, it is the Lamb who should be served as food to this strange spider at the edge of the Silk Craddle. It is the Lamb who should pay.

Today, Leshy is in charge of the kitchen. He is supposed to prepare meals for common mortals who sometimes gorge themselves almost as much as his sister (not as much, though, that would be an unprecedented record). He would like to fight, to let fools who think they are strong taste his crown, to do what he does best! Instead, here he is reduced to the rank of occasional cook, unable even to see what he is grilling - in this case, a piece of meat that could not bore him more. It smells very good, and will surely taste very good, like all the other pieces of meat he has already cooked since his resurrection.

Hearing a very faint sound of flapping wings, Leshy follows it with an instinctive nod of his head. He knows that it is a butterfly, judging by the weakness of the wing flapping and by its speed. It’s a small and frivolous butterfly, but not the kind to get caught in a spider’s web easily. A perfect appetizer. Yet Leshy can no longer say “This butterfly is beautiful, I’m going to eat it.” He can only eat the source of his second greatest frustration: the meals he prepares in front of this grill where he is forced to stand.

-Hey, dude, the steak! The steak!

Surprised, Leshy suddenly notices the smoke surrounding his head: the steak he was supposed to grill has indeed grilled well, well, to the point of catching fire. From the fleshy flames, a thick smelly smoke is released that quickly reaches the nostrils of the mossy worm. Finally understanding what is happening, he then deals several violent blows with his spatula to the piece of meat, almost as dark as a block of coal now, finally extinguishing the flames after a short struggle. On the other hand, no need to be still gifted with sight to make the most logical deductions: this steak is no longer good for anyone, even the hungriest of unfortunates.

-Argh, it's not possible to be so clumsy! complains his customer. A whole steak, good for the garbage!

Disappointed with himself, Leshy lowers his head, then facing his bitter culinary failure.

“Unable to see, and even cook,” he thinks. “Have I really become this weak?”

The disappointed follower leaves, grumbling, how from now on he will have to make do with berry gruel, because of him. Leshy could tell him the truth, force him to cook his steak by himself, or even shove the ash-filled meat into his mouth to give him a good reason to keep quiet; but for once he is not in a state. For once, he is exhausted by everything that is happening to him. These last few days, he has been unable to do anything; his mind is polluted by a constant reminder of what was stolen from him. You are blind, Leshy! You can do nothing without your eyes, Leshy! You no longer have your crown to compensate, Leshy! You will never be able to fully appreciate camellias again, Leshy! You will never see-

-Here! A gift for you!

Thinking he was alone until then, Leshy suddenly raises his head. Trying to figure out who is there and what can be "offered" to him, he sniffs the surroundings. He does not recognize the scent of the follower, although it is vaguely familiar, on the other hand he knows perfectly well the scent of the object under his nose, a scent that he particularly appreciates: a camellia flower.

Perplexed, he grabs the flower with a delicacy that he rarely shows, and breathes in its scent again: it is indeed a camellia flower, freshly picked from his field with care. Its petals are fragile, enough to be crushed by a simple grip, but nevertheless full of life, judging by their soft texture like cotton. The flower probably grew to the East of the fields, taking advantage of the sunrises to gorge itself on its rays.

- You’ve served me here and at the bar several times, the attentive stranger states. I wanted to thank you for your work, and the Lamb told me you liked camellias. I picked it myself!

Leshy takes his time to feel the scent and sweetness of the camellia, as if he’ll forget everything the moment he lets go of this precious little flower. However, he usually pays little attention to the flowers that come from the camp—the ones from Darkwood are much more robust and smell much better. This flower stands out from the ones growing at the camp, but the former god of chaos can’t explain it. All he can notice that’s different is a surprising but pleasant warmth.
He also feels hairs clinging to the stem of the flower, fine and soft, carrying their own scent: the stranger who gave him the plant is apparently a feline. Come to think of it, the only feline among the followers - not counting Narinder - is a cat, who arrived a few months ago. It must be him who is standing right in front of Leshy.

-I have to go take care of the fields, he explains. Would... Would you like to come? I could teach you how to pick the most beautiful flowers.

Completely disconcerted by this sudden invitation, Leshy hesitates.
This is the very first time he has had a truly calm interaction with a follower, without being forced to by the Lamb. Moreover, this follower already seems to like him despite the little contact they have had. He may think that this tomcat admires him, if only a little. Maybe it's a chance to finally meet someone, or find a partner in chaos, but...

- No, it's fine, Leshy says. I have to cook. Go away.

- Oh, that's too bad! Oh well, I bid you goodbye, then!

Leshy's very first discussion partner leaves, leaving him to listen to the sound of his footsteps before leaning over the flower again.

It still smells as good. It's still as delicate. Not at all, it was pampered all along its growth and chosen with the greatest care; it's a gift tainted of kindness. However, he doesn't say what kind of person is the one who gave it: friend or foe? Predator or prey? Chaos advocate or peace lover? Nothing seems to indicate the feline's intentions.

Besides, he called him by his name. Who would dare call him by his name, if not to challenge him? Is he not as intimidating anymore?

Leshy then notices that despite his confusion, he doesn't take it out on anything or anyone; he's even particularly calm, or if one can dare say it, appeased. Not so long ago, he would have gone to fight with the first person he came across; It seems that with time, he's becoming less and less aggressive. One day, he'll find someone more aggressive than him. One day, this someone will push him to the ground and give him the fatal blow. This idea is terrifying. Actually, no, not that much, because that's not the right word.

This idea is realistic.

It's already happened.

A smile that makes you want to break his teeth one by one.

Suddenly he opens his mouth wide and tears the flower as if he has a personal grudge against her. So small, yet the pieces that don't end up at the bottom of Leshy's belly fly everywhere, sometimes falling on the grill and meeting the same fate as the failed steak.

Eaten up by a new source of frustration, Leshy finally calms down, and clenches his fists; nothing remains of the flower. He scrapes between his teeth to detach a remnant of petals, thinking back to the curious invitation he received earlier, then an idea comes to him.

-Eh, why not, after all?

There is now nothing left of the flower that was offered to him, except for the ashes of a few petals that had unfortunately ended up in the flames of the grill. They no longer give off the sweet floral scent that is their own - just a burnt smell. Yet, Leshy regrets having eaten this flower - it was delicious, as sweet as a treat, that is not the problem. But he devoured it far too quickly and brutally; now he wants another one. Another flower, just as sweet and fragrant, that he can enjoy for longer, savor to the end. Another flower that he will take the time to savor just like one savors a good glass of wine.

As long as the taste of the flower masks this unbearable bitterness.

There must be some in the fields. Besides, the Lamb has set aside two spaces to grow flowers in order to use them as medicine or at the bar. The weather is good at the moment, a good time for camellias. The Lamb even brought new followers a few days ago, which means more people to make sure they grow well every day, are well watered, get as much sun as possible.

After all, who could blame Leshy for going to steal one or two? The followers working in the fields? He will only have to sneak underground and pick the flowers by the root. Heket? He will just have to buy his silence with the produce of the other fields, perhaps a large piece of meat if this one meets a less dire fate. Narinder, well, is too busy following the Lamb like a slave to pay attention.
No one will see him and he will be able to eat as many flowers as he wants. A feast within anyone's reach, as long as that anyone knows how to dig to hide underground.

This is the case of Leshy, an expert in underground galleries, who feels his stomach rumbling like thunder. By dint of cooking for the idiots around him, he sometimes forgets to fill his own stomach.
This might even be an opportunity to spy on this strange feline to find out more about his intentions - he will only have to pretend to have changed his mind about the strange invitation, if they cross paths.

His plan well-crafted, Leshy therefore goes underground, eager to throw his frustration, and his teeth, on the first roots that come through.

The camellia field is not very far from the kitchens, especially if you go through the earth. Leshy understands in an instant that he has reached his destination; the earth is fresh and airy, somewhat damp, dotted with fine roots. The flowers have just been watered and the earth is still loose; it is even easier than expected, he only has to reach out to get his fill.

That is what he does without waiting; his mouth already watering, he grabs a bunch of wires close enough to the surface, so as not to break them. As he is about to grab his snack, he is surprised by something that suddenly pulls them out of the earth, therefore out of his reach. There are people in the fields today. Too bad, he digs further.

Finding another bunch of roots, this time seeming thicker, he prepares to try his luck again. This time the flowers are not pulled to the surface, and he grabs the roots, almost managing to bring his precious flowers to him; however, someone manages to hit him with a shovel, right on the top of his skull.

Leshy doesn't even have time to cry out in pain before a hand manages to dig enough earth to grab his head, and pull him out entirely: not particularly content with seeing him, it's Narinder.

The latter growls in his throat as if lightning was going to strike them. Leshy, knowing his smell and his expressions like the back of his hand, recognizes him immediately.

- What are you doing here?! You're not hanging around behind the Lamb anymore? he shouts. Do you want to earn enough to buy yourself some dignity?!

No answer. It is no secret within the community that unless he has been drinking, is spending time with the Lamb, or has been drinking in the Lamb’s presence, Narinder is not a talkative one. You have to tease him long enough to get a few words out of him, which are rarely words of love—and teasing people he doesn’t like is almost a passion of Leshy’s.

- Maybe you should buy yourself a sense of discussion first! he says, to add to the sting. Can you imagine if Shamura was here with us ? Now, let me go.

- No, Narinder replies. You’re going to leave the field fallow.

- A miracle, oh deities of the Old Faith, this traitor has finally spoken, from his mouth moldy with his own rot! Who would have the audacity to believe in such an event?!

Narinder will have spoken only once; Grabbing his younger brother by the back of the neck in a firm grip, he carries him to the edge of the field before throwing him to the ground. Knowing the strength of his elder brother, he has no choice but to walk away, tail between his legs, not without calling him a bunch of less than complimentary curses. In fact, he could raise his hand to Narinder, but in this weakened form and on an empty stomach, he has no illusions about the outcome of the fight – at least not this time.

It was a short, yet rather violent argument, and despite that the mossy worm can’t help but think that he has lost. He has always been a sore loser. With no dice to crush or cards to make confetti with this time, he simply walks away, grumbling and ignoring the incessant gurgling of his stomach. Losing to Narinder is probably the only thing worse than losing to the Lamb. Either way, both are equally infuriating.

Now he is frustrated for two reasons: his hunger and his defeat. Nothing has been going right lately. There was a time when his crown was enough to solve these problems, but it ended up as a trophy on a stone column. He, in the meantime, is hiding behind a large tree that the followers have not yet cut down. Maybe in this story, he is the ridiculous trophy, a perpetual reminder of a lost fight.

Leshy's stomach rumbles again, louder than before. A small flower will no longer be enough to satisfy his hunger, he needs a real meal, and fast. As he holds his belly, he sighs.

- I guess I've already been replaced in the kitchen, he thinks. I'm gonna take a bowl of soup, and then I'll go right back to my bed.

- Leshy?

- Wha- Aaah!

Leshy jumps and turns his head abruptly. He didn't hear anyone following him, much less approaching. As for the smell, he wasn't really paying attention. In any case, he recognizes the scent of the follower next to him: the cat, the same cat as earlier.
Trying not to lose prestence, Leshy adopts a relaxed pose.

-You're discreet, aren't you, he says to the feline. What do you want?

- Well, I saw how much you liked camellias, so I tried to...

Sensing his interlocutor's hesitation, Leshy takes the time to sniff and listen. He then notices a sweet floral scent, stronger than before however; camellias, freshly picked like the one he tasted earlier, but this time there are several. It is a bouquet, a harmonious bouquet of camellias wrapped in a large leaf. The feline hands it to him, his hand slightly trembling.

No longer able to contain his hunger or his irritation, the former crown bearer snatches the bouquet from his paws with much more confidence and begins to devour it too. Petals and stems fly everywhere, but Leshy catches them or comes to swallow them straight from the ground. How good it is to finally let off steam! How refreshing these flowers are! They would have made a great alcohol, but no matter! How well this snack falls! And what a delightful snack, too!

This subtle bouquet of camellias didn’t last long – now it’s resting deep down in Leshy's stomack, who seems to have somewhat relieved his hunger for the moment. Having admired the scene, the cat lets out a soft laugh.

- And to think that I bothered to do a good dressing ! he says jokingly.

- The aesthetic aspect is not what interests me the most, you get why. On the other hand, there’s something else that makes me curious.

- What is it?

Leshy gets up, trying to look confident – ​​something complicated with the remains of the flower around his mouth.

- You've been awfully formal with me since we met earlier, he points out, wiping himself with a movement of arm. Why that, and why this offering?

- Well, I didn't really see this gift as an offering, the feline then admits with a hint of embarrassment. I was thinking more of a pretext to approach you.

- Approach me? Leshy repeats. I don't feel like fighting, I've had my fill, for once.

- I didn't come to fight! In fact, I...

He then takes a deep breath, as if he wanted to confess everything in one breath, and finally lets it out.

- My name is Nao, I joined the camp a few months ago and I'm trying to make real friends! Could you help me?

Chapter Text

-My name is Nao, I joined the camp a few months ago and I'm trying to make real friends! Could you help me?

Leshy is, so to speak, confused by such a request. This is the type of demand that is usually asked to the Lamb or Narinder; although in this specific case, it's perhaps better that Narinder is not in charge.
The former bishop is quick to question Nao about this.

- Friends? You need my help to make friends? he says without really believing it.

- Not really "need", but yes, answers the cat. Actually, I... Uh, I...

Finally, the explanation comes by itself; Nao's voice suddenly trembles, his breath cuts itself off, and he begins to stutter while nothing in particular is happening. Maybe Leshy is intimidating him, all things considered. Unless he’s just a generally fearful person.

- Where did you learn my name?

- The Lamb told me so. But forget it! he shouts. I don’t want to bother you!

- You stay here, Leshy orders. You’re not bothering me. Actually, I find you rather interesting.

- Interesting…?

The corners of Leshy’s mouth stretch, revealing his fangs in the form of a mischievous smile, which he addresses to Nao with a hint of pretention. With a nonchalant air, he stretches.

- I need to think about your case for a bit, the mossy worm announces. It shouldn’t take very long. In the meantime, feel free to live your quiet little life!

- Oh… Very well. See you later then.

Why such a sad tone, suddenly? Did he take this answer as a refusal?
But before Leshy can question him a little more, his scent disappears from the surroundings. He’s a quick one. He sighs, and tramples on a flower remnant; he’ll have to figure out his little investigation.

“The runaway type, huh?” he says to himself. “Good, then let me hunt you down!”

During two days, Leshy then begins to follow Nao. Nothing that is up to a real "hunt" as he had claimed earlier, but he still monitors, quite closely, the behavior of the cat that attracts his curiosity more and more.

During these two days, Leshy takes advantage of every moment when he recognizes his scent, to follow the places where he goes within the camp, what he does there, but also and especially with whom he speaks. Nothing intrusive, just enough to know him a little better. He seems to have one and only person with whom he is very comfortable, makes jokes and does not stutter in the least. In their presence, he beams of joy of life and kindness, as if he had known them forever.
However, with the other followers, he is even more hesitant than with Leshy. He stutters twice as much, if only he doesn’t run away from conversation, if only he’s bold enough to approach someone. He doesn’t seem like a group leader, or a loner, he’s just bad at building relationships. So he helps with farming, takes care of the camellias, sometimes goes to play with the children, attends sermons without flinching. Failing to assert himself, he seems content with an average daily life.

For Leshy, this "average daily life" is like a real open wound.
Although it presents a semblance of peace, it is only illusory: impossible for someone like this cat to be happy, when the result of his efforts is so meager. If the mossy worm comes to his aid, perhaps he will be grateful to him and agree to assist him in some of his tricks.
In short, it is the perfect opportunity to show off a little!

A time comes when Nao has to take care of the vegetable growth. The Lamb has, apparently, planned a cabbage soup for this evening. It is the kind of comforting and filling dish, but unfortunately also sees its smell infect the camp in every single corner.
Thinking himself as discreet as always, Leshy waits for the perfect opportunity, hidden behind the stock crates, watching for the feline's scent to catch him if he gets tired of picking cabbages - it would be understandable. However, he is not as invisible as he thinks, and quickly gets noticed.

- Hello, Leshy!

- Wh- argh!

Surprised that he has been called when he thought he was completely hidden, Leshy jumps and falls on his back. After a moment where he remained lying on the ground without much presence, he feels a vegetable, with a firm but tender texture, touch the tip of his claws.

- Sorry, mumbles a voice that is starting to sound familiar. Hold on tight!

- You're definitely full of surprises, aren't you!

Preferring to get up with the grace of a drunkard than to rely on a cabbage, the mossy worm quickly stands up on her two legs, not without nearly falling a second time, and pretends that nothing happened.

- So... I guess you're not here to pick up dinner, Nao says hesitantly. What are you doing here?

- Um, actually...

Crumbs. He hadn’t planned on arguing, so now he realizes that his pre-prepared excuse wasn’t credible in the slightest. However, he doesn’t have any others, so it’s time for him to improvise to save face, and come what may.
Then an idea comes to him that might make his quest for information easier.
He puts on his most confident aura—which admittedly doesn’t convince many people—and gives Nao his widest smile.

- I... have thought about your proposal! He says. You asked me for help talking to the wei- to the people, didn't you ?!

- Uh... Yes? The feline answers, trying to decipher the intentions of his potential mentor, while shaking his head to look around him.

- Well, rejoice, because I grant you this privilege! You become my apprentice from now on, and from tomorrow, I will teach you to submit people to your will!

- Well, that's great, but...

Nao seems skeptical. Leshy then waits for an answer, not understanding why he doesn't jump for joy following this announcement.

- I thought that... That you didn't want to, Nao admits. What made you change your mind?

- I never said such a thing, the former bishop says. I told you I wanted to think about it a little! It's done now!

- Oh, but, what you said back then, it was genuine ?

- Well yes! What interest do I have in lying in this situation?

- It's incredible! Thank you!!

Nao suddenly seems possessed by an immense joy that he can't control. Realizing suddenly that others can witness it, he immediately covers his mouth.

- I... Sorry... Oh, how embarrassing...

- Then we'll start with that, declares Leshy. You have to learn to scream, to make yourself heard in every sense of the word!

Not far from there, in a certain soberly decorated red tent, located not so far from the fields, a certain crown bearer keeps watch, seeming to be amused by the situation.

- Hey, Nari, come and see this! Asks the Lamb.

- I'm warning you, if it's followers courting each other again, I am NOT interested, says Narinder, busy cheating boredom by embroidering on a silk fabric.

- Why, no, no ! It's Leshy, he's-

Hearing the name of his younger brother was enough for him; Narinder drops his artistic work and jumps up, joining the Lamb at his improvised observation post. Ears pricked, he looks for Leshy, before seeing him deep in conversation with Nao.

- I can't believe my eyes, he declares. He's behaving so well ! What kind of witchcraft provoked this?

- You see?! The Red Crown Bearer says. I knew my advice would be useful to Nao! And besides, he can talk to someone like Leshy! I'm so proud of him!

- Wait, wait, we're talking about Leshy here. You know as well as I do that this is just the calm before the storm.

- Nari, please. He's no longer a threat! He still thinks you, Aym, and Baal are one and the same person!

- I'll never get tired of this thing, Narinder replies before snickering.

- And you dare to laugh?

- What do you mean?

The Lamb takes a step back, and plants his gaze in Narinder's as if he were planting a dagger in his chest.

- Lower your tone. It's your fault. It's all your fault. Leshy is confusing you guys because he's blind and you smell almost the same. I can laugh about it, I can afford to find this situation a little funny. But you're the one who made Leshy blind, you're the reason everyone is here. We don't laugh at other people's misfortune when we've caused it.

He pauses, in a morbid silence, as if to let Narinder assimilate everything that is said to him. The usual gentleness of his voice is stained with a past rage which traces still remain.

- Well, except in my case, in a way. I can afford to laugh at all the times when you're hungry, all the times when you're thirsty, all the times when you miss your family when today, the only thing they want is for you to suffer. Because as for me, I only survived, I only took revenge as I had the right to, I make you purely and simply pay, for everything that happened. Pay for these moments that I lived until my sacrifice, and that I also lived as a punishment.

The Lamb turns again towards the scene he was observing, looking thoughtful, finishing all the same his sermon towards the former god of death without less resentment :

- Except that some, here, did not deserve their punishments.

- Well, I have to get back to the fields, if we want everyone to have a share tonight! Nao announces.

- Remember to leave me the biggest portion to thank me! Leshy says in an attempt at a joke.

- Actually, I had another idea to thank you...

- An idea?

- Well, actually... The wind has been blowing hard in recent months, which has spread pollen everywhere, and...

Nao, as if to be a little more discreet, approaches Leshy until they are almost stuck together. Fortunately for the worm, the smell of his new apprentice has not been contaminated by that of the cabbages.

Whispering, while hiding his face from an outside view with his hand, the feline continues:

- There is a corner, near the edge of the camp, where wild camellias have started to grow! I have a bit of extra time left, what if we go together?

More camellias? What if this wonderful camellia, offered by Nao two days ago, came from this area? What if there were others, and this area was full of camellias that are easy to steal?
Leshy's response is not long in coming: he accepts, and orders his friend to take him right away to discover these wonderful little flowers.

The said "corner" is not as hidden as the feline's discretion would have one believe; barely two minutes' walk from the fields, in an airy and cool space where the forest wind blows, he stops and kneels on the ground.

- Here we are, he says in a soft and calm voice. I've been here almost every day since the buds came out of the ground, but you're the first one I've told about it!"

Curious and hasty, Leshy throws himself on the ground and sniffs the small plants. It does indeed smell of camellias, but the scent is not as strong, and not as subtle. Intrigued, the mossy worm then runs his hand, delicately, over the flowers.

The petals are thicker but seem more brittle. They are also less soft - where those of Nao's offering were comparable to silk, here the texture is closer to that of cotton. The pollen is less odorous, and the stem is more robust.
In short, nothing to do with what Leshy thought he could nibble on.

- It's very different from those that grow in the fields! He says.

- It's because their environment is different! Flowers in the fields benefit from loose soil that is watered every day, except when it rains. As a result, they don't have to push the soil very hard to come out! Here, we don't plow the soil, so the bud has to more or less fight to grow, and the flower adapts to its climate, like other plants do! We think that all flowers are fragile-

Suddenly, Nao stops. Not a sound comes out of his mouth, as if he had suddenly disappeared - yet Leshy can still make out his smell, near him.

- Why are you stopping? I know you weren't finished.

- Ehm... Well... I think I've done enough...

- What are you saying? We were just talking about flowers!

- Exactly. I talk too much and I know it's annoying. I'm just anticipating.

He "talks too much"? He was just sharing his knowledge. He is the opposite of Shamura who, during Leshy's childhood, made a goal of perfecting his education in every way.

- I have a question to ask you, declares the latter, since you seem to know a lot.

- Y-Yes?

- The first camellia you gave me, I loved it. Where did it come from?

- Fields... Actually...

Like when he asked for help in his quest for friendship, Nao takes a deep breath before finishing his sentence:

- I wanted to offer the sweetest camellia, to someone who gives a lot here!

Hearing this, Leshy can't help but burst out laughing. All this for that! Especially since he is far from being the best worker in the camp! However, he remains touched by this little attention, but refuses to admit it.

- You know, besides eating and sleeping, there's not much I really like here! He chuckles.

- Eating, you say? Nao repeats with a hint of hope in her voice. In that case, would I dare invite you to dinner with me?

- Why not, Leshy said with a big, mischievous smile, if you stop being so formal with me !

- YEAH! HAHA!

Nao is so happy with this answer that he throws his arms in the air and loses his balance; as a result, he falls backwards. He already feels his cheeks turning red and starts looking for an excuse to run away once more. Fortunately, this scene does not make Leshy laugh, quite the opposite : he laughs, but wholeheartedly, and even voluntarily reproduces the fall before starting to laugh again, which immediately relieves the feline.

- I really have to finish picking the cabbages! He says as he gets up. I'll see you tonight, Leshy!

- Go on, go on! Save me a big serve !

And the smell of Nao, a comforting and very discreet perfume at the same time, disappears once more.

Time passes quickly, and the two friends join each other in the line of the communal kitchen.

The roles are reversed compared to the little escapade they had taken earlier in the day: this time, Leshy is the talkative one of the duo, displaying his tastes and knowledge of camellias in the hope of impressing the feline a little, and Nao is content to listen silently, smiling, even though he already knows a lot. All that mattered to him was not to ruin everything, not after such a good start, anything but that.

The smell of cabbage grew stronger and stronger. It was finally the turn of the two boys, and Nao inhaled the smell of the soup simmering on the stove. How soothing that aroma was!
Unfortunately, his tranquility was short-lived.

- Oh, it's you.

Leshy immediately recognizes this sour voice: it's the follower for whom he had burned a steak to the point of incineration. He's apparently serving, and he doesn't seem particularly happy to meet them tonight.

- Hi, Nao, he says to the yellow cat. I see you're with someone.

- Did you miss me, honey? Leshy calls out to him.

- Well, you didn't have as much talkback behind the grill! The bear replies mockingly.

- Because it was a steak and not your face. Shut it and pour me some soup.

Under the eyes of Nao who doesn't know what to say to lighten the mood, the bear sighs and throws a bowl of soup under Leshy's nose. The latter snickers after this small victory, grabs his bowl and stands aside to wait for his apprendice.

However, Nao asks him to choose a nice place to eat, and to wait for him a little. He seems worried, but maybe he's just hungry. Not caring too much, the worm listens to him and goes to wait for him further away.

- Are you serious? Nao asks his friend.

- I should be the one asking that ! Have you seen what you're starting to hang out with ?

- He only burned a piece of meat! It's not like we've been short of food these last few days!

- Nao, people are waiting to eat. I don't have time.

The yellow cat then understands that he's annoying. Again. For him, the line isn’t that long. That doesn’t mean he has to be selfish and contradict his only friend. Why does he allow himself to act like this?
Covered in shame, he takes a bowl, apologizes for the inconvenience, and goes to join Leshy, praying that all this will be quickly forgotten.

- I hope this idiot didn't burn my soup !

The sun is starting to set. Leshy is sitting against a tree, examining his soup by smell to make sure everything was as expected. After a while, he hears Nao's voice calling him in the distance.

- I'm really sorry! He says, throwing himself at Leshy's side, spilling a few drops of soup on the ground. I thought I had time to talk to him, but I wasn't efficient enough, and-

- Relax, Leshy says, cutting him off, we're not racing. And besides, he should cook his own steak! And while we're at it, he should go cook something else, mind you!

With these words he begins eating his soup, apparently planning to drink it all in one go, judging by the mouthfuls he takes. The feline tries to follow him but, understanding that he will choke if he imitates him, and wishing to die in a more noble way, he is content to eat slowly.

Between two sips of soup, an idea comes to him. Leshy does not seem against the idea of ​​spending time with him, so…

- Do you-Do you go for digestive walks, sometimes?

- Nah, boring, answers the mossy worm.

- Oh… I see-

- But I’d like to go with you!

- Excuse me?

- I said I’d like to go for a walk with you, just tonight. I’d like to teach you a trick. You know, for flowers!

Nao can’t believe his ears. It’s a dream, it has to be a dream, because it’s impossible for everything to go so well. It doesn’t exist. It never existed.
But maybe it’s starting to be possible?

- So…? Leshy asks, waiting for an answer.

- Oh! Excuse me! Of course!

The yellow cat changes pace and finishes his soup almost at the same time as his companion. Contrary to what he thought, he doesn’t choke on a stray piece of cabbage.

He jumps up and taps Leshy on the shoulder to signal to follow him. They both stand up and start walking around without a real destination.

The camp is very quiet, as night falls. The last embers of the grill diffuse a gentle heat that replaces the usual breeze and, thus, envelops the followers in a pleasant atmosphere. The discussions are simple, not very advanced, just enough to ease the mind or confide a moment of intimacy to someone you appreciate.

It is therefore in a gentle and quiet atmosphere that Nao begins to tell himself, in the company of Leshy, that the Lamb was perhaps right about him and that he can do it without killing himself at the task.

- Ah! I love this place! Says Nao, pausing in his walk. The Lamb has never cut down the trees here, they are so big!

- Not that I want to offend you, points out Leshy, but I can't-

- No, wait. Can I take your hand for a minute?

Surprised but curious, Leshy agrees with a nod, a little reluctantly. With as much delicacy as he can muster, the feline takes his wrist and makes him open his hand slowly. Then, he gently brings this hand closer to something, until finally it touches him.

The texture under his fingers is strange. It is rigid but it seems fragile at the same time. It is dotted with slightly rough cracks. By rubbing a little, it crumbles, but it remains attached. This same texture is dotted with another, very soft, like a pile of small hairs that would have grown on it.

- Bark, Leshy deduces. And there is moss on it.

- The older the tree, the more complex the texture of its bark becomes, a bit like it has wrinkles. Moss is a witness to the passing of time, it is a life that begins. It is a kind of natural paradox that they cross paths!

And he witnessed it, without seeing it. He enjoyed it just as much as the feline, without seeing anything.

- The grass also changes, since it shares their environment! Admire it a little!

Without waiting for details, Leshy rushes to the ground. The grass has started to wilt. Its blades break more easily.
He turns his head towards Nao.

- Continue, he orders.

- What ?

- I like what you are doing, explaining things to me. Continue.

Then Nao is seized with doubt. He wonders if this is all a big joke. He wonders if, this time, he can really afford to let his guard down.
However, in a burst of perhaps naive hope, he seizes this opportunity.

He talks with Leshy. Again. He talks a lot. And Leshy listens to each of his words. As they walk, they discover and rediscover things.

Everything passes through: the smells carried by the wind depending on the place, the textures of the leaves and plants, the sounds emitted by nature. The two friends have fun noticing every little detail that surrounds them, remaining in a setting that is familiar to them, but that does not prevent them from becoming aware of certain details that slipped between their fingers in everyday life.

What surprises Leshy the most is that at no time does he feel left out. He never feels the slightest distance between himself and what Nao is trying to make him discover. On the contrary, he feels close to what surrounds him, to what he touches, to what he smells and hears.

He is present.

Nothing has disappeared.

And he likes it a lot.

Nao finally stops.

- We’ve reached the dorms, he announces. Maybe we should stop here.

- Hey, can I be honest with you?

- What—uh, sure!

Nao suddenly starts shaking again. Is it so strange to warn before being honest about what one’s saying? Regardless, Leshy feels tiredness rising in him, and decides not to waste a single moment.

- I want to do it again, he says. I order you to take me on another one of your “digestive walks,” at some point in the next few days.

Unexpectedly, the mossy worm lets out a cry of joy. This time, he doesn’t even try to hide it; he’s very, very happy that someone is offering to do this again, and there’s no way he’s turning down such an opportunity.

- See you in the next few days then! See you later! He says very quickly, without taking the time to breathe. I can't wait! See you soon! See you later Leshy!

His voice becomes more and more distant.

His scent, comforting and subtle, too.

And soon, Nao's scent blends with that of the trees.

Chapter Text

The first rays of sunlight filter into a collective shelter through its windows, passing through the thin curtains to envelop the inside filled with varied decoration. The three former bishop live there together, following a decision of the Lamb that was supposed to bring them closer together. A soothing silence preserves their sleep, creating a most pleasant atmosphere.

The delicate warmth of the morning sun ends up caressing Leshy's cheeks, who wakes up little by little, stretching as hard as he can. He then listens: Heket snores as loud as a buffalo and Kallamar turns over and over without getting out of bed. So they are still sleeping, sound asleep.
Not being in the habit of getting up early, Leshy rolls around in the hole he dug for himself to use as a bed. It is his favorite place to sleep in. The background is lined with camellias, or rather the remains of camellias, which he likes to nestle against him, chew on, or arrange on his head as if to form the crown of a fallen king. In a way, it suits him rather well.

However, he can’t slop in here any longer today. It turns out that the Lamb, in his immense and unprecedented kindness, has asked him to perform a task to help the community; a party is planned tonight and someone is needed to prepare the bar, because the waiter of the day will not be available early enough. There were surely much better candidates, much more responsible, but the choice was the former bishop of chaos, feeling himself becoming the bishop of laziness with each passing moment.

Moreover, even if he keeps this feeling buried to pretend that nothing is happening, he is bored without another presence. There is no one to congratulate him. There is no one to lecture him. In these conditions, one quickly feels alone. There is no one to prove oneself to in order to receive a minimum of recognition, and the emptiness is quickly felt. What is the point of giving oneself all one’s all if it has no consequences?

Realizing that his mind is beginning to wander for nothing, Leshy finally gets up, with a final sigh of laziness, and drags himself to the bar.

Glasses lie on the counter and, judging by the acrid smell, the remains of a bad wine shared by the followers the night before have rested in their bottoms. Having a drink after their chores is the only pastime for some. They are surprised to have headaches after drinking low-quality alcohol, what will it be like tonight?
With a sigh of annoyance, Leshy begins to gather the dirty glasses. He grabs the first cloth that comes to hand, then rinses a glass and rubs without much energy. If it's clean, that's all that matters, as long as it's over quickly.

With the aim of leaving here as quickly as possible, he hurries to clear everything away, and very quickly there is not a single dirty glass left on the counter. They are all at the back, finishing drying, while the mossy glass checks the fruit reserves. Crouching on the ground, he vaguely counts the grapes, with the tips of his claws, without really paying attention to the total.

- Yeah, it should be-

Until a certain scent surprises him, though less than the last few times.
Once again he sighs, and gets up without finishing the count.

- Hello, Nao, he says as if he were reciting a text. You should find another way to announce yourself.
- Uh, hello, the feline replies. I hope I'm not bothering you.
- I have nothing to burn today.
- I see that.

Letting out a little laugh, Nao allows himself to approach the bar. He crouches down next to Leshy and begins to search the cupboards, taking up a little space.

- What are you doing on the floor? Asks an intrigued worm.
- Officially, I'm watching you at the Lamb's request. But don't worry, I understood that it wasn't your thing.
- Oh, you think so?
- Ah, sorry... Nao murmurs, a little embarrassed to have annoyed his comrade. As for the grapes, there are enough for two days!
- Wait, how do you know?

Leshy then feels Nao's fingertips rest very gently on his, as if to simply signify his presence, without any other intention.

- Do you allow me to put your hand on the grapes? He asks in a strangely gentle tone.
- There's no point asking me every time, you know. I'm not made of cotton!
- Maybe one day, you won't want to. I don't want to take any risks.

This feline definitely has a funny way of expressing himself. Maybe that's why he has trouble addressing other followers. No one around the former bishop has ever spoken to him like that.

Leshy feels the grapes in his hand in bulk. Nao makes him squeeze his fingers without putting too much force, in order to grab a handful of fruits without crushing them. He then takes the time to explain his method to him.

- By doing it like this, if you know the size of a grain, you can say approximately how many you have. You just have to pick pretty much everywhere in the box to know the total, more or less.
- Hey, you have some very specific tricks to go fast! You're not a lazy person under this nice cover, are you? Leshy asks him, his big smile revealed, to annoy him a little.
- W-what? Not at all, I swear ! I'm doing my job, and-

Leshy lightly taps his friend on the head, cutting him off. He's seriously lacking in repartee.

- Hey, relax. I'm not the one who's going to blame you. Can you help me count the rest, dear apprentice?

A somewhat awkward silence falls as the yellow cat complies. He is quick, but it is long enough for Leshy to make a somewhat unpleasant observation.

Does he really let someone hold his hand, there, like this, without flinching in the slightest?

Should he complain? Should he blame the person who initiated it for this contact?

Does he like it?

He abruptly removes his hand, and immediately starts looking for an excuse to escape the discomfort.

- Well, now that we have settled this grape business, shall we go for a walk?!
- Uh- But- Why not, but, I thought you didn't like-
- Well now I like it! Come on, take me to the nursery, I'll show you a funny trick!
- But, what about the bar? You wanted me to-

Using Nao's trick to count the fruits faster, Leshy sticks his hand in the reserve boxes, spends barely a few seconds there, takes a deep breath in the box of camellias and turns to the feline.

- I'm done. Let's leave now.

Not daring to add anything for fear of annoying him, Nao holds out his hand to Leshy for him to take it, then realizes that his idea isn't great for several more or less obvious reasons, and simply starts walking.
The worm is content to follow the cat by smell. The more he has to smell it, the more subtle he finds it. He smells camellias, of course, but also a hint of cotton. It goes really well. If he works in the fields long enough, will he smell a mixture of vegetables? No, not cabbage, it doesn't smell very good, cabbage. Cotton smells much better. It's much softer.

The two fellows end up hearing sobs, which seem to want to be silent. If Leshy doesn't understand right away, Nao immediately sees the little girl in the nursery, who is hiding her face to make her cries more discreet, probably for fear of waking her little friends.
He quickens his pace to reach her and, once at her height, he crouches down to speak to her more softly.

- Well, good morning, little miss! he murmurs. What do we owe this great sorrow so early in the day?
- Well, well, uh, says the little girl between two tears, well actually, I had a nightmare and, and in it there was a monster, and...

The child then goes into the romanesque story - which is only romanesque in content and not really in narration - of the nightmare that justifies her already being up. In her nightmare, a fox-man with a big cape, the said monster, was trying to eat the children, and had managed to catch a few followers. She had been scolded by the Lamb who, according to her, had made too much noise in the evening, which had attracted the monster from the forest here.

Nao does his best to explain to the little girl that this nightmare was only fiction, while Leshy remains sitting on the ground, making himself comfortable, quietly waiting his turn. Come to think of it, hasn't he already heard of a fox dressed in a cape?

Nao ends up reaching out to the child, giving her his most beautiful smile.

- What helped me a lot when I was little was a big hug! Do you want a big hug?

Without thinking any further, the child throws herself into Nao's arms, crying a little harder this time. She takes advantage of this reassuring presence to dry her tears little by little, while the feline strokes the back of her head tenderly. One would think he'd been doing this all his life, it seems so natural to him.

The little girl is quickly reassured and finally notices Leshy's presence.

- The mister bad things! She says, pointing at him.
- Mister bad things? Nao repeats, amused by this name. What did he do, this big, bad, leafy mister?
- Nothing, but he said he was going to teach us how to make fire! Very very big, like when we party!
- Wha- What?! But it's dangerous! Leshy, could you explain it to her?!
- Why, of course, replies the "big bad leafy mister".

The latter drags himself on the ground, until he reaches the height of the little one, and plants himself right in front of her, taking on his most confident air.

- So, first of all, you need something combustible, like dry wood-
- Leshy!!

The child laughs heartily at the scene, something that has the gift of melting the little cat's heart. Moreover, for a reason he ignores, he is still touched by the closeness that Leshy seems to have with the younger ones; he is not really a model of wisdom, but not a threat either. It's nice.

- You know, sweetie, you're special, the feline says. In fact, I don't do lots of hugs anymore, because I don't really like being touched.
- Really? Asks the little girl, intrigued by what she's being told.
- Yes, but I'm working on it! I only allow certain specific people to touch me! And these people, they are very special!

If these people are very special, because they are allowed to touch Nao...
With what happened at the bar and the day before, doesn't that include Leshy?

Intriguing, perhaps. Interesting, probably. Intimidating, without a doubt. But, special? That's too vague. It means everything and its opposite. What is a "special" person, for Nao? Did he even make the connection?
And if he was the one who touched Leshy and not the other way around, is the latter still special?

- Pass me the kid, Leshy orders.

Intrigued but curious, Nao lets go of the child, who approaches Leshy with small, hurried steps. The latter grabs her under the arms, with a firm grip, and begins to take his momentum in a very specific way.

- I told you I was going to teach you a trick, didn't I? says the mossy worm, still faithful to that smile of sharp teeth. Well, that's how you send your problems far, far away !

- Send your... repeats the feline, before realizing. Leshy, don't-

But too late, Leshy takes his run-up one last time, and throws the little girl very, very high in the air, so much so that she gets scared and lets out a slight cry. Nao already sees the worst coming but, fortunately, Leshy catches her, before throwing her back just as hard and high, this time spinning her.
He does it again several times, letting out a mischievous yet sincere laugh. In the end, this ends up comforting the child, going from tears to laughter too, who even asks for more to continue flying.

Hidden behind the veil of his tent, there is someone else at the camp who is as worried as Nao, if not more.

- Curse it, he's going to end up breaking one of them ! The Lamb says to himself out loud.
- What about your impromptu spy, isn't he there to prevent that? Asks Narinder, still sneaking into the usurper's house to take advantage of the gossip.
- I know you'd like a bit of action too, but the poor little darlings don't need to be treated like the cabbages we grow!

The Lamb sighs and places a hand on his cheek, looking deeply worried.

- I shouldn't have asked Nao for that... Poor thing, it's already a lot for him! I'll end up going myself!
- Instead of spying on them like that, ask yourself what will happen when they are more honest with each other, said the former god of death, cutting him off in his tracks. If you want my opinion, it's for Leshy that this is going to become a real chore.
- What do you mean?

- A-actually, when you said you'd teach me how to be more intimidating, I didn't expect that, Nao declares with his characteristic shyness.
- What do you mean by "that"? Leshy asks. It's very handy to know how to throw children!
- Wha- No! No, for Lamb's sake! The feline answers while his mentor laughs out loud. I meant- you know, talking too much, stuttering, all that, you know...
- Ah, uh, yes. All that. Self-confidence. I have to teach you things. Like, to repel idiots.
- Walk?
- Walk.

Returning to watch over her little friends in the nursery, the little girl witnesses the scene and can't help but laugh a little. How funny they are, these gentlemen, they look like the leader with his big cat!
Except here, the cat is shorter, and his suitor has a very strange way of courting him.

Oddly enough, Nao doesn't really stray far from the rest of the camp this time. Quite the contrary, the two comrades go back around the corners they visited or revisited the day before, without going anywhere else. The feline seems to watch his every step, and hurry to go to a specific place.

This intrigues Leshy, who follows and listens to him, even forgetting why he's walking in the first place, while thinking about what happened a few minutes earlier. He racks his brains, but he doesn't understand what a "special" person could possibly be, and it frustrates him terribly. The cat seems frightened by what's new, so could a special person be someone familiar to him? No, it can't be that simple, since the two have only been talking for a few days. It must be a feeling, a more complex bond.

A bond...
When was the last time Leshy allowed himself to create a bond?

And when you think about it, what makes him think that this time, it doesn't present any risk?
He needs to be clearer about this apprentice-mentor relationship.

Nao stops abruptly, and ends up sitting on the ground.

- This tree is nice, we can stop there, he says. The sun will soon finish rising, it's a good place to enjoy it.

Leshy settles down next to him, feeling a sense of unease setting in. Not liking this atmosphere, he tries to start a conversation.

- Do you often come to this particular area? He asks.

- Sometimes, when I don't want to meet anyone.

The silence has never been more palpable for Leshy. Oddly enough, the feline is much more complicated to decipher than the other followers. He's not as simple-minded, far from it.

- We've been going around in circles a bit today, the mossy worm points out to try to dispel the unease. In fact, for me to teach you more things, we'd have to go out!
- Go out? For example, to the fields?
- No, we'd have to leave the camp! Let's go explore, for once !
- Uh, no thanks. I'm fine, here.
- What, you're afraid to go outside?!
- Are you kidding me ?

The cat lets out a short but strong sigh, loaded with meaning. Leshy then understands that their discussion has just become more serious and that, if he wants what he is looking for, he must watch what he says.

- Of course I am afraid to go outside. It terrifies me.
- O-oh. And, is there a reason?
- Of course there is a reason. It is dangerous. Do you have others questions like that?
- No, it is true, it was a stupid question. But in that case, what scares you to the point of staying cloistered here?
- I would not go so far as to say that I am cloistered, you know, Nao answers with a hint of melancholy. I have a roof to sleep under, I eat my fill and I exert myself.
- Outside, too, there is stuff to eat! For example, there are huge wild pumpkins, at-
- Leshy, I beg of you !

The cat's voice suddenly became much louder, almost as if he wanted to scream but didn't have the courage. He might never have it.
Once again he sighs, and looks away to look at the sky, still tinged with the multiple colors of the morning. What a pity that he is the only one enjoying it. How can you explain to a blind person the subtlety of a mixture of colors?

The sun has almost finished rising, and its rays, still as soft and pleasantly warm, finally touch Leshy and Nao's improvised hiding place. This is something they can share. However, Nao, feeling a strange fatigue overcoming him, closes his eyes and turns to the mentor he is beginning to appreciate.

- Please, Leshy. Don't ruin the sun's rays.

Chapter Text

Once again and like every day of good weather, the soft rays of the sun filter into the collective shelter; however, this morning, they come in slightly late.

Like the morning of the day before, Leshy wakes up with difficulty, and stretches then rolls in his eternal improvised bed. The flowers are still there, even starting to wilt under the weight that they support every night. It might be time to replace them, but laziness prevails over a potential desire for decoration.
Lazy as usual in the morning, the worm grabs a handful of dirty flowers that he stuffs between his fangs, and begins to chew them frantically. It is a way for him to manage the frustration of waking up, since after all he cannot chew on someone and he has no other alternative available. Indeed, this morning is quite complicated; The followers who were celebrating the night before were making so much noise from drinking, singing together and playing games all night long that it was difficult for him to fall asleep. Not without trying with all his might, he slept much less than he had planned. Since he lost his sight, his hearing has become more acute, much to his dismay.
There seems to be another reason that pushes him to stay in bed, but he can't put his finger on it. Anyway, he has no task to accomplish today, so he absolutely does not intend to rush. He will just stay here and enjoy himself.

In any case, that's what he had planned; he suddenly smells a terrible breath, which he knows a little too well for his taste, approach a little too close to him.

- Don't put that in your mouth! I already told you that this much filth is bad for your health with this body!
- Hello, Kallamar, Leshy says in a visibly tired tone. This is just my breakfast.
- Liar. A real breakfast is nutritious, and all you'll get with that is stomach problems. Go grind your teeth on something else before swallowing something bad!
- Leave me alone! You're not my father!
- We never had a father, idiot! Our only parental figure is-
- Shut up.

A deathly silence, and a more than palpable unease. That is all the old bishops manage to create, when this subject is brought up. It doesn’t put anyone in a good mood, it doesn’t settle any conflicts, it doesn’t bring back any good memories. Kallamar knows it, and yet he allowed himself to let this answer come out, as if it would fix the situation in any way. He didn’t think about his words, or their potential consequences. He becomes aware of it, at his younger brother’s reaction, and can’t help but feel guilty; when this happens to him, after all, he perceives it as an axe being stirred in a wound that he already doesn't manage to heal. He should be more careful not to inflict this suffering on anyone. But is he even worthy of talking about suffering? Realizing that he is starting to ramble again, and not wanting to let this question run through his head for too long, he cuts himself off by taking a deep breath.

- I'm sorry, Leshy, he says without daring to look at him.
- I know.
- I... I'm going to work.
- I know.
- I'll be at the medical center if you need me.
- I know. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. Stop treating me like a kid, for the love of the old faith.
- I know. Leshy.

The former bishop of pestilence sighs. Worrying about oneself is exhausting enough, why is he now worrying about the fate of others?
Anyway, it doesn't matter anymore.

- I know that only too well, he adds. You are strong, and very brave, we all know that and no one denies it. Go eat something anyway, if you're hungry, if only to please me.
- If the goal is to please, I'll only accept if you use a mouthwash.
- Wh- Oh, YOU !

And it's with a chuckle, satisfied with his repartee, that the worm finally drags his rear end out of his bed, to go get a real meal, or maybe just walk.
Anyway, he was starting to get bored.
That's it, he was bored.
Nothing else.

Outside, there is a whole group of obviously annoyed followers, armed with brooms, vigorously scrubbing them against a ground littered with traces of vomit that are more or less odorous. It would seem that the party the night before was eventful, or rather generous in drinks, since most of the people still standing are busy cleaning up the mess.
"What a bunch of drunkards" the worm thinks to himself as he narrowly avoids one of these puddles. These kinds of parties, although conducive to low-level brawls, have never been his style of festivities. He has always been content to witness the hypocrisy of people believing themselves to be charismatic and socially superior simply because they had drunk alcohol. You can create very funny situations even with the worst alcohol, but no one here knows how to enjoy those properly - in addition to being drunkards, they are idiots.

Not in the mood to go for a walk. Not in the mood to eat something. Oddly enough, his morning frustration has returned – come to think of it, it hadn’t left him at all, he was just distracted. Maybe to chase it away, he can go and bother the children, if the little one from last time hasn’t been devoured by her so-called fox monster from the forest. He still hasn’t taught her how to make a fire, even though he promised her he would. He even used his pinky. No one would dare break a promise made with the pinky !

- Hey, it’s him! a very angry voice shouts from afar.

Thinking that an argument is looming, Leshy expects some entertainment, and approaches, fully intending to witness it. On the other hand, it’s not just another follower who is being challenged, but himself; He suddenly feels a hand pushing him violently, which he manages to hit back.

- Who do you think you are?! he shouts. Don't you touch me like that!
- I think I'm someone you made sick! says the same voice. You made us all sick, for that matter !
- What are you talking about?! I didn't party with you yesterday! How could I have done that?
- The Lamb told us that you were the one who prepared the bar, announces the more than disgruntled follower. As luck would have it, this is the first time that so many people have ended up spitting it all out! Now we find ourselves picking up droppings everywhere, because of you!
- Maybe your fragile little bodies have finally had their fill of booze! Leshy replies, almost screaming. Leave me alone, you filthy bastard!
- You poisoned us, you sicko!
- I look very healthy, compared to you guys !

The adept, having had enough, then tries to slap Leshy; feeling the wind blowing much too strong for the breeze, the latter immediately understands and pushes the blow back with a backhand of his own arm. He is strong, and this gesture is sudden enough to unbalance the one whose only trait as an opponent is pretension, but the latter does not stop spitting insults at the other.
As he prepares to strike a second blow, another voice, just as annoying but for a very different reason, approaches them more and more quickly, until it becomes more intelligible.

- Stop! Stop! shouts the Lamb, trotting towards them, prepared to use the crown. That's enough!

Clearly a coward, the brawling adept runs away before the Lamb joins them. Exhausted by this little race, which he probably had to do several times since the party, the latter stops at Leshy's level, leaning and pressing on his knees, and catches his breath slowly.

- Damn, I'm seriously hesitating to chain him up ! Sorry about that, Leshy.
- Did you tell him that I had rigged the drinks? asks the worm to find out more. In fact, I could have.
- What?! For blood's sake, what is he telling around ? No, I just said that you had taken care of the bar, because he asked me for that information. He's really the conspiracy theorist type, I swear ! Anyway, you're here just in time, for I have a favor to ask you.
- Aaand my day just became twice as annoying, but go ahead, I'm listening.
- Well in that case, to the Missionary station we go !

An expedition? Why not, after all. No one should be giving him trouble. Unless he’s accompanied, but in theory, the Lamb doesn’t lack that much common sense.

At the station, the Lamb takes a protective collar from near the things, and hands it to Leshy.

- As you know, a lot of people have had health problems since yesterday’s… little drinking binge, the Lamb explains.

- Tell them to stop getting drunk then, I don’t see how that affects me.

- That is not the point. Actually, we’re going to run out of camellias soon, and I clearly won’t have enough to treat everyone. I need someone to get some from DarkWood, so I thought of you! You’re the ideal candidate, am I right?

Leshy is surprised, to say the least. Usually, he is not chosen for expeditions because of the Lamb's distrust - something that suits him, because the idea of ​​exhausting himself for this creature disgusts him. But the temptation to flee this horrible, stinking environment is much, much stronger than his suspicions about this request, especially since he is being offered the perfect opportunity.
The former bishop rips the collar off the Lamb's legs and immediately puts it around his neck. Exploring his old domain is perhaps not such an unpleasant idea.

- Let's just say I know the area, he says with a grin.
- Great! Pick up as many camellias as you can, and be back before tonight.
- If you haven't all died in the meantime!
- Leshy...
- Okay, I'll stop, Leshy says, laughing. Give Narinder a smooch, I'll get going.

As the mossy worm grabs the almost empty bag of provisions and leaves the camp, Narinder, in fact, watches the scene from the temple. Lately, he has been spying on him a lot - it seems that the usurper has a certain influence on him, and he is starting to get a taste for gossip stories, even if he does not admit it all the time. Still, he, at least, keeps a low profile at such times.
The idea of ​​sending the worm elsewhere to discuss their project was a good one, but they still have to make their decision before his return.
Leshy has calmed down. The Lamb's plan seems to be working, slowly. But is it even a good thing?

Ever since Leshy had been gone and could not rule the place, DarkWood has not changed that much. The trees are the same, the flowers still smell the same, and the heretics are still as bad at hiding in the bushes. In short, the fauna and flora have evolved very little, and Leshy advances through it without much trouble. Nature evolves, whatever life, whatever the dead. However, this is the first time the worm has explored the place without his precious crown, and something has changed—not in this place, but in him, at least he thinks so. Something discreet, that escapes him, but that is very much present with him. Something that has followed him since he entered the forest. Something unpleasant, but that he wants to find before getting rid of it. Something he doesn't like, that he hates, that he would like to be able to scratch until it is completely erased.

Camellias are the most common flowers in DarkWood, so they play a key role in the pollination of the place. They are almost everywhere, you just have to walk a little to find some, which Leshy does without really sorting them before taking them. After all, it is just to heal a few people, so it's not too bad if they are neither the most beautiful nor the most lively.
Taking advantage of the calm of his environment, he passes a hand over the few flowers he has just picked, not really knowing why. The petals seem more robust, yet they are very soft. The pollen is granular, enough to crumble between his fingers. When he picks one of the flowers, he has to pull harder than in the fields, so that the stem breaks without uprooting everything. In short, characteristics specific to wild flowers, those for which no one has made the dirt softer.

He thinks about Nao again. Why is he thinking about Nao now? Ah, yes, he's the one who made him discover all the details of the textures. He seems to know a lot of things and like to share his knowledge. Wasn't he the one who was supposed to learn things from Leshy? The latter, upon realizing this, feels an unknown shiver run through him and rushes to his chest to scratch it frantically, hoping to make it disappear. Realizing in the end that it's useless, he stops mistreating his garment, growls and continues on his way.

The more camellias he picks and the further he advances in his old domain, the more he realizes that since his conversation with the feline, everything seems much more... detailed. It's no longer just a question of a shape, but also and above all of a texture, a physical aspect, of all that it implies and all that goes with it. The flowers have continued to grow. He doesn't see it. But now, he can keep witness it.
In itself, it is an interesting discovery. So far, he has only gotten good things out of it.
Should he thank Nao for this?

Thinking back, the cat had taken the trouble to make him a bouquet. Not just any bouquet, what’s more; a thick bouquet, which smelled very good, interesting on all levels. They are not friends, but the cat thought it would be a good idea to put so much effort into a simple offering. So it is both a valuable gift and, for Leshy, a debt to repay – he cannot let an offering of such quality go unrecognized.

His picking then becomes more serious. He takes the time to stop when finding flowers, examines their scent, their texture, then chooses a few and sorts them on the road; the sweetest ones for his apprentice, the others for the followers. Then he finds other flowers, stops and starts again to accumulate as many as possible. This is just to cure a handful of people who have never heard of the wonderful concept of "moderation". As long as the flower does its job as a flower, the rest should not matter.

The sun finally reaches its highest point in the sky, and Leshy feels his stomach gurgle; it is probably time for him to eat something, he who has not yet eaten anything today. After checking that no heretics have followed him here, he sits down against a tree, places his loot next to him and opens the backpack entrusted to all the missionaries. He takes out his lunch, wrapped in thin paper: a thick pile of dried meat.

- I know someone who would congratulate me, Leshy thinks before tearing off a piece.

In order to avoid taking unnecessary risks during expeditions, the Lamb provides in the missionaries' bags a certain quantity of food that does not need to be cooked. Most often it is meat, because it keeps for several weeks if dried, but sometimes the followers also take raw vegetables of all kinds to diversify the meals. The usurper is as annoying as he is far-sighted.
So Leshy, delaying the moment of returning, chews his first piece of meat until it is nothing but mush, before finally eating it and moving on to the next one. If there is one thing he did not inherit from his sister, it is her gastronomic sense; in the eyes of the worm, if it's nourishing, it deserves to end up in his stomach.
Eventually tired of the taste of meat, he grabs a handful of flowers and continues his sorting: on his left the best, on his right what he plans to offer to the medical station. He even allows himself to dig into them to nibble on some; who is going to check, anyway?

- Should I keep some for my bed? Leshy wonders between two mouthfuls. Mhm, nah, it doesn't matter.

The weather is very good, so much so that the worm ends up taking a break to enjoy it. The sun's rays are soft, so soft. It's like feeling a blanket wrapped around you. Maybe that's what his bed needs: a blanket, soft and comforting, that has absorbed the aroma of the previous meal. So it always smells good. A soft blanket smelling of flowers, wouldn't that be the perfect blanket?

His sorting finally finished, he examines the few flowers he left on the right. There are many more than he thought, it seems that his picking was rich. He then puts the perennial flowers in a pocket of the bag so that the Lamb doesn't suspect anything, grabs the others and continues on his way back to the camp.
On the way, he continues to pick camellias, which he stuffs either between his teeth or in the pile of half-crushed flowers. The pile grows thicker as it goes, so much so that Leshy, not wanting to carry heavy things or stop just to put them in his bag as well, stops picking them up.

In the middle of a rather calm afternoon given the circumstances at the camp, the Leader, in front of the missionnary station, argues with the former god he usurped.

- I know you don't want to do this, but I really have to help Kallamar! complains the Lamb. I can't stay here waiting for Leshy, so someone has to do it for me!
- And why can't I help Kallamar myself?! Narinder retorts.
- Maybe because the last time you were in the same room, I found him in tears and rolling on the floor?! There's no way you're going to take care of this !
- You think it'll go better with Leshy, perhaps ! Why don't you let me take advantage of the opportunity?!
- Because no one is ready for your so-called redemption, you idiot! We must already prepare for the return-
- Your couple fights are deadly boring.

Finally back, Leshy did not feel like interrupting them. However, he too was starting to lose patience and he only wanted one thing: to return to the shelter of the bishops so as not to meet anyone else today. The Lamb briefly explains the situation to the worm without even correcting him on his intervention, before leaving, letting him alone with Narinder.
Silence soon fell - nothing surprising so far. After a moment that seemed far too long, Narinder decides to say something.

- So... did you find any flowers? he asks hesitantly.

In response, Leshy throws the pile of camellias intended to cure the camp's multiple hangovers and other stomach ailments in his face.

- I see they're still growing, notes the black cat as he picks up the flowers. That's a good thing.

- No way, you think so? Leshy says sarcastically.

- You're not patient.

- And you're not my brother. At least like that, we're all happy.

Not waiting for a response, Leshy listens to Narinder leave to join the guide with the pile of flowers, while he retrieves his carefully chosen specimens from the bag.
On the way, he nibbles on a flower from his pile anyway; it seems that even the taste is slightly different, and he had not noticed that earlier. That of wild flowers is apparently less strong, probably because of the time spent underground or the shade provided by the trees. Maybe they would be better as an infusion.

He grabs a second flower and, realizing what he was thinking, lets out a long sigh.

- Still, this cat is really weird, he says to himself.

Chapter Text

Since expeditions tend to exhaust followers, the Lamb always takes care to choose someone energic, who will bring back as many resources as possible without collapsing from fatigue once they return. After all, it would be a waste of resources, except perhaps in the event of a great famine. In any case, he always finds a way to lend a protective necklace to his missionaries - by what sorcery did he obtain so many? It was of no importance to the poor followers who sometimes brushed death to bring back food, and survived only thanks to these necklaces; some are luckier than others.

Leshy was clearly a good choice of missionary since, despite a very abundant harvest of camellias, he is not tired in the least.
Sitting by his bed, immersed in his silent activity, he does another sorting job, this time with the few flowers he has allowed himself to keep for his gift; he makes small piles of them according to the size of the stems, although his measurements are approximate. By grouping them like this, organizing his little bouquet should be much easier. Thinking of it, he's going to need something to tie it all together, but there's nothing that would suffice on his side of the shelter - perhaps in his brother and sister's things?

As he prepares to get up to rummage a little, he recognizes loud footsteps, entering the shelter with greasy, hoarse groans. Startled by the noise, he jumps and drops the few flowers he had gathered to try, which makes him groan as well.

- It's meEe, Heket announces herself, dragging her feet.
- Urgh, I was doing well, her brother complains, bending down to pick up his loot. Say, while you're here, don't you know where I could find a ribbon or something like that?
- Ah... Yes...

With one hand, Heket then takes her brother's and drags him to her side. Beside her bed are multiple boxes and storage of all kinds, containing treasures as trinkets as savings and emergency snacks, in which the worm struggles not to kick hard each time he moves.

The amphibian, with her other hand, searches all these storage spaces in a strangely ordered mess. She ends up finding something, which she gently places in her brother's grip. He pulls on it, rolls it, tries to tear it without success; It’s a rather silky ribbon, and ultimately strong enough for what he intends to do with it.

- That should do it, he says casually. Please do not come and distract me now.

He sits back down at a disconcerting speed, visibly eager to get back to it as soon as possible. Intrigued by this behavior that she is not used to witnessing, Heket sits down next to him, hoping to learn a little more.
It is very complicated for a blind person and a near-mute to communicate. However, by a certain miracle tinged with red, these two manage to do so, from time to time, if circumstances allow. Sometimes, Heket feels that she must seize the slightest opportunity that presents itself to her to do so, and the present moment is one of these opportunities.

- What do? she asks, pointing by reflex at the cluster of camellias.
- Oh, that's nothing, answers Leshy almost dodging the subject.
- Li*KOF*liar… You wouldn't… put… So much effort…
- Leave me alone, I said ! I told you not to distract me!
- All... More... Reason...

Leshy lets out a long sigh of a rattle. Is she never going to let him go? Maybe she will, if he spills the beans.

- Someone made me a nice offering recently, he says, hoping that she will finally leave him alone. I would like to thank them, it's the least I can do. There, you have it. Let me do what I had planned to do, now!

During their reign, the bishops would not refund any offerings made to them – it is not because we have been given a gift, no matter how valuable it may be to us, that we should give a gift in return. For a deity, it is even rather normal to receive this kind of attention from worshipers, and the recognition should be sufficient in return. Yet, Leshy seems to feel indebted, and to really invest himself in what he is preparing. Would this offering have been so beautiful?
Thinking of it, perhaps what he calls an “offering” is actually something else entirely: not a token of devotion, but of affection. Not an offering to prove anything, but rather a gift to be part, if only a little, of the universe of the recipient. The kind of gifts you don't give to an idol, but to a loved one, or at least someone who matters to you.
This idea makes Heket, fond of this kind of story, snicker softly. Then, she gets a friendly pat on the shoulder.

- Can I know what makes you laugh?! Leshy shouts, a little annoyed. I'm doing very well, it's not aesthetic that counts!

- You... Flirt... Really bad! his sister replies before bursting into a very loud laugh, interrupted by coughs.

- What?! Even in your state, you talk nonsense, I swear ! the worm complains again. I'm his mentor, he's the one who admires me and not the other way around! You'll see that I'm going to impress him, with this thing, and you'll be impressed too, for that matter!

Heket gradually stops laughing as her brother gets back to work, much more frantically this time, as if to convince his sister a little better that he is right. He is indeed very distracted, to the point of tearing some flowers or even dropping them several times, but it doesn't seem to matter to him.

Heket's brother, her one and only little brother, has impressed her only a few times in her life.

The first time was when she taught him how to fight. He was young at the time, even for a deity, so he only learned the basics and rarely found himself with a weapon in his hands. Still, he listened attentively to his sister, learned every new move he could and, when he finally had mastered them, would run to Shamura to show them to him with great pride. The most surprising thing was when, one fine day, Shamura ended up congratulating him on his progress - an exceptional event that remains etched in his memories. It was enough for him to see his determination triple; it is perhaps because of this event that he is so stubborn today, moreover.

The second time was when they found the crowns. Leshy proved to be very strong and very fast, thus worthy of the green crown, but the technique was not there right away. It was enough to quickly turn DarkWood into a prosperous and powerful domain that no one dared challenge. The bishop of chaos, rather paradoxically, offered an era of safety to his followers for centuries, during which he reigned without letting his detractors create the slightest breach. That someone so thoughtless could achieve such a feat was, to say the least, unexpected.

The third and final time, leaving Heket with a bittersweet memory that still bothers and comforts her at the same time today, was when she was rescued from purgatory.
And when she opened her eyes for the first time, at the Lamb’s camp.
And when she was so hungry that her stomach trembled throughout her body. Hunger is the worst torture she knows, and she knows it better than anything else.
And Leshy was standing before her, straight but not proud, a large bowl of soup in his hands, begging her not to hold it against him for failing in his task. He knows that she has always been angry. He seemed convinced that he would suffer her wrath for not having defeated the Lamb.
She did not hold it against him in the least. She was simply happy to finally be able to eat. And, even if she refused to admit it to herself, she was happy to be able to share this new meal; in her eyes, eating alone is a terrible display of loneliness.

And right now, she is happy to spend some quiet time with him.
She just wants to be happy, even if she is perfectly aware that it is asking too much.

She taps her brother on the shoulder to indicate her presence, then picks up a few flowers that he hasn't used. Then, she makes a very organized assembling; the longest stems are in the center and the shortest all around, the outer petals are spread out and the inner ones are pulled upwards. She then finishes her prototype by making an elegant knot with the ribbon, then hands it to her brother.

- Do... Like this, she tells him.

In the same way as with Nao's bouquet, Leshy takes it and sniffs it, touches it all over, examines the softness of the petals. Heket seems to have done something well trained, which makes the worm laugh slightly.

- What's the use of making pretty bouquets of flowers to you ?! he asks with a big smile and a hint of mockery. You don't have any consort to give them to!

- You... neither! his sister replies, hitting his arm.

Cooperating between laughter and repartee, the two former bishops undo the messy bouquet, doing their best to produce something that will please the yellow feline no matter what. If his offering was so beautiful, then he will receive a worthy thanking - at least, if that is Leshy's will.

And for several minutes, they try to produce a larger, more beautiful, more organized version of the prototype. Every detail must be planned to make something to the taste of the one who will receive the final product, a gift worthy of the name. Sometimes, Leshy cannot help but smell the perfume of the camellias, and pray that his sister does not notice; however, there is no one to hear these prayers except, actually, his sister who pretends not to understand such a gesture.

Deep inside, Heket has a feeling that scares her.
She has known this feeling before, and its absence for centuries has been eating her away, but she refuses to reveal his existence again, not even to her own family. She cannot risk it disappearing once more, she would rather die again than face such suffering. They have all suffered so much, that she would hate to add up to it.

So instead of pointing out to Leshy that they hadn’t had any quiet time as a family in a long time, instead of telling him that this is the first real time in years, instead of hugging him hard enough to break his bones, instead of telling him how relieved she was not to be alone on the day of her resurrection, instead of admitting that this feeling was nothing other than happiness, happiness brought about by her new life, by her brother’s blossoming, a well-being once forgotten and now stained with all the doubts that could well resurface and drown her soon…

Instead of telling him all these secrets, she grabs the almost finished bouquet, lets Leshy put the ribbon around it, and ties it in the most beautiful bow she can.

The result is decent. It is not a bouquet that one would give to a young woman on her wedding day, but it is a suitable arrangement for a thanking. This should please Nao. All that remains is to offer it to him.
However, despite the simplicity of the task, Leshy seems reluctant to accomplish it. It was his idea, and now he backs out, without even having the guts to admit it. Instead of getting up to go and offer his work, he remains planted on the ground. He has always been brave, but it seems that his temerity is failing him, for once; is it because, this time, he is the one giving a gift to an admirer and not the other way around?

Fortunately, Heket is still as observant as ever; she then quickly notices her brother's barely concealed embarrassment, and then an idea comes to her.

- If you want... I can... Deliver it, she offers.
- Why would you do that? the worm answers dryly enough to mop up a lake. It's my bouquet. It's up to me to do it.

But the worm's hand immediately contradicts him by trembling like a dead leaf in a storm. Maybe he doesn't realize it, or maybe once again he's very bad at dissimulation, but the fact remains that these tremors are transmitted to the tips of the camellia petals. A bit like the amphibian's stomach.
In any case, it's not enough to repel Heket, who repeats her offer.

- You are back... From mission... she explains. Rest...
- Doing this thing was relaxing enough, I-

Leshy interrupts himself, stopping his struggle. Deep down, he knows how stubborn his sister is, so insisting again and again will lead to nothing.

- Fine, you win, his name is Nao, he explains. He's a cat and he talks a lot. I don't know more, figure it out and find him yourself.
- There are... Several...
- Well no, apart from Narinder. There are only two.
- No... There are... four...
- Huh? What are you talking about?
- Aym... And Baal... Never spoken?
- I really don't understand anything. Anyway, that shouldn't stop you from finding Nao, he's easily noticeable.
- Easily?

The worm understands right away that he made a mistake. Whatever his answer, he is sure to be the target of mockery.

- Yeah, well, he gets noticed easily by people, he says in a vain attempt to save face. You get it, don't you !
- No, Heket claims with a smirk, hoping to pull the truth out of his mouth. Tell me… More…
- More of what?! He’s a cat, he talks a lot, he likes flowers! Anyway, four isn’t much, so figure it out for yourself!
- Stop… Yelling!
- Stop annoying me!
- You… First!
- You, first!
- You first!

And silence falls on their conversation like the blade of an axe on a poor sacrificial beast. This silence is heavy, smelly, and unpleasant as can be. It’s the kind of silence that people try to make disappear with terrible jokes, but there’s no way to make a joke in this situation. Refusing to sacrifice the little piece of peace she has finally managed to establish, Heket decides to try something new.

But she hesitates. For some reason that escapes her, fear seizes her throat right at the level of her wound, thus blocking her in place like an invisible hand that would pin her to the ground, condemning her to the rank of prey rather than a feared hunter. If she has started to learn a sign language, it is totally incompatible with someone who cannot see these signs; what to do now, to communicate with Leshy?

Without even realizing it, she has brought her own hand to her throat; her bandage is, contrary to what she thought, perfectly dry. Kallamar did things properly when he changed it, at least. However, she could have sworn she felt something wet running down to her neck: it is when Leshy turns to her that she finally understands.

- Why are you sniffing so hard? he asks with less disdain than she thought. Are you crying?
- No! she says, turning her head as if it would change anything.
- You're an even worse liar than me. Come on, admit it, you're crying!
- What... does it... to you?!

Leshy lets out a long sigh of a rattle yet again. Deep down, he knows that it's not his fault - in any case, he doesn't know what he could have done to his poor sister to put her in this state. The bouquet still in his hands, he finally resigns himself and hands it to her, also turning his head, except that it has a use for him.

- I think he works in the fields a lot, he says hesitantly, and… Oh, screw it. He smells really good.
- He smells… good?
- Argh, you know enough! I’ll end up going myself if you don’t take this thing now!

Relieved that all this is over, Heket gently takes the bouquet so as not to risk undoing it. But before leaving, she reaches out, albeit hesitantly, and places a hand on her brother’s head to caress him. Their older brothers have always used this weak gesture to signify a benevolent presence, so maybe she can do it too.
Surprised by this gesture, Leshy lets her do it for a few moments, before tilting and dismissing her with a wave of the hand. At least he managed to save face. Probably.
Actually, maybe it wasn’t worth it.

He smells good?
Why did Leshy remember this detail? It doesn’t matter. Associating a smell with a person is useful. Telling yourself that he smells good will never do anything.
It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

Why does this simple detail seem so important to him?
It is just a smell.
It isjust flowers.

- Hey Nari, what do you think?

Enthusiastic about the product he pulls out of his sewing machine, the Lamb hands Narinder a very elegant purple tunic. He seems very proud of his work, so much so that the black cat feels compelled to take it to examine it more closely.

- I must admit that your seams are less and less visible, admits Narinder, turning the fabric over. You made a very beautiful piece.
- It's most certainly Berith's patterns that work miracles! declares the Lamb, throwing the scraps of fabric into a box. And, given the circumstances, I couldn't see myself using anything other than cotton!
- Say...

The feline is seized by doubt, then clutching the fabric of the new garment a little tighter in his hands. Not daring to look his usurper in the eye, he still finds the courage to speak.

- Do you really think they will like it? he asks, his voice almost distorted by doubt.
- Do you want them to like it that much? the Lamb then questions.
- Not really, it's more... Well, I know it's stupid, as a line of reasoning, but it would be paradoxical to offer them something ugly compared to everything we're trying to build.
- You know, I still have to send someone to get us some bones. Otherwise, you'll still have a lot of time to "reason".

Narinder lets out a laugh, something that makes the wearer of the red crown smile.

- You're improving too, the leader affirms.
- You think so?
- Well, to be honest, I expected your methods not to work.
- It's true that my last... project wasn't very conclusive.
- Are you talking about the reconciliation with Kallamar or our whole story? the usurper asks, pointing at the crown.
- When you say "our story," what exactly are you talking about?
- My crown, Nari, my crown. Not our rings.

Anxious to preserve this garment until it is given to its future owner, the feline folds it with unprecedented precision, and heads to the storeroom to put it away. He delicately places the tunic on a pile of clothes set aside, and turns back to the Lamb, anxious.

- I was wondering... he says, playing with his sleeve. How is Leshy doing, with his new friend?
- Are you already interested in this?! the Lamb wonders, bursting into laughter. Oh my, darling, you're getting impatient! They've only just met!
- You spy on them more than I do! the black cat retorts. And besides, without any illusions, why did you send such a shy person to meet a guy like that?!
- Unfortunately for you, I promised to keep it a secret.
- Are there other secrets that you're keeping me from knowing?
- Nothing that I haven't already confessed to you.

With these words, as if he were signing a grand declaration, the Lamb then approaches the usurped divinity and ends up, with a gesture that is both elegant and affectionate, by taking him in his arms. At first paralyzed by surprise, Narinder takes a few moments before returning this embrace. He even takes the time to close his three eyes, in order to fully enjoy this tranquil moment.

Deep down, he knows better than anyone that he does not deserve this peace. However, if the Lamb is generous enough to offer it to him, he will gladly take it, and will do everything possible to repair the mistakes he has made. Nothing he has done is forgivable, but perhaps with effort and a lot of empathy, he will finally be able to allow his family to accept his presence.

He hasn’t forgotten. He could never forget, it’s impossible. There will always be someone, even the Lamb, to remind him of what he did.
But he doesn’t want to forget, and he doesn’t want to make those he hurt forget either. He wants to allow them to be okay. He wants to allow them to live despite the tragedy, to live within this community without having to bear the weight of what happened. That way, he will apologize as everyone deserves. It’s terrifying for him, but he’s convinced that’s what he has to do.

- Do you think I should introduce myself to Nao? Narinder asks without letting go of the Lamb. Maybe I’ll have an excuse to talk to my brother longer, that way.
- That would be nice, but not for now, the Lamb replies. Let’s deal with the ritual first.
- What about Leshy? I think Kallamar and Heket will be ready, but I'm not sure about him...
- I'll take care of getting him away, while we finish the preparations. All my excuses have worked, so far!
- He's going to suspect something, eventually! the black cat says, doubtful about this strategy.
- Yet you're smart, and you didn't even notice that we hadn't moved.

Reality suddenly hits Narinder who, seized by embarrassment, immediately lets go of the Lamb before pretending to go and put away the stock of fabrics. This scene makes the usurper laugh a lot, and pat him on the back affectionately.

- Oh come on, we've done worse than that! he struggles to articulate in his fit of laughter. Can you imagine if Leshy has the same reactions as you do to Nao?!
- I don't see what you're referring to, pretends the black cat, not really being credible. Anyway, as long as Leshy doesn't fight with Nao, everything will be fine.
- You think Nao can't win? asks the crown bearer, calming down little by little.
- Well, actually, it depends on how he fights. I have no doubt about Leshy's victory in the case of a hand-to-hand fight or a fight with weapons, but...
- Oh, I think I understand.

With a very gentle gesture, the Lamb approaches the ancient deity and gently takes his hand.

- I'm going to collect divine tears, he announces. Maybe you can investigate all this while I'm gone.
- Ah, maybe I won't need that, Narinder replies.

He then points to a scene taking place further away, towards which the Lamb turns.
There is a satisfied Heket, and a visibly very happy Nao, to the point of jumping around everywhere, sticking his nose in a pretty little bouquet of camellias to breathe in their scent.

The Lamb admires everything with a big smile, and sighs with relief.

Soon they'll have to go get some fish, and he knows exactly who to send.

Chapter Text

- Go fishing? Can you not do that yourself ?

The agitation at the camp is more than visible once again. It's starting to become suspicious for Leshy, who is increasingly lacking ideas to spice up his daily life. For some reason unknown to him - for a change - everyone seems either tense, stressed or exhausted. Not that interested, he didn't try to find out more.

The Lamb has been sending a lot of people on missions these last few days and, visibly, he has decided to send the inferior beings to do his dirty work once again; his choice fell on Leshy, again, and he's starting to get fed up.

- I see that it still gives you as much pleasure to help me, says the crown-bearer, sarcastically.
- I have never known greater happiness, adds the worm on the same tone.
- Listen, I'm working on a project that requires a lot of my attention, and we've been eating only vegetables for a while now. For everyone's health, we need to vary our diet, so since Narinder doesn't know how to fish-
- Did that liar tell you that? Leshy says, laughing. He's the one who taught me how to do it!
- So, you admit that you have the skills to bring me fish?
- Wha- argh, I hate you.

The corners of his mouth rising at this small victory, the Lamb holds out a bag containing only fishing gear. Leshy snatches it from his hands, lacking the motivation to fight him once more.

- Maybe I have an idea to encourage you, the Lamb says. I was thinking of sending two people to make it go faster, so I packed two bags-
- Couldn't give less craps.
- As I was saying, I packed a second bag for the one who’s going to accompany you, and since you’re not the most sociable, I thought I’d ask someone you already know.
- Are you thinking of my brother or sister? Leshy asks, tilting his head. Heket is even less patient than I am, and I don’t think Kallamar will appreciate the activity.
- Actually, I was thinking to let you choose.

Leshy, choosing his mission companion? What in the world is the Lamb thinking about? His actions and way of thinking are making less and less sense lately; something is going on and the worm decides to confront his guide, annoyed.

- If you want me to leave, say so frankly, he declares in a very angry tone. Looking for excuses not to cross paths with me is pathetic. I don't even know why you're going to all this trouble when I don't really care about your life already.

Instead of answering right away, the Lamb sighs. He's not wrong, this parade of secrecy is becoming ridiculous, but he insists on dancing it for good reasons; however, he has neither the time nor the energy to explain everything, and in any case, his interlocutor is not ready for the news.

- I know, I know, he says before sighing. I can't deny that I'm being dishonest with you and I'm sorry about that. That said, nothing I've told you is a lie, so I would still like to know who you're going to drag along with you.

Not interested in excuses that have no value for him, and feeling that he wouldn't have any more answers, Leshy begins to think. Since it’s his choice, he might as well pick someone he doesn’t find particularly annoying—it’s not like he can drag the kids out there, though that might be fun.

Heket probably won’t want to come. Kallamar has a lot of responsibilities and has been cooped up in the care wing for weeks. That leaves Narinder — the worm would rather die a second time, and the thought of it makes the former bearer of the green crown shake his head to chase away the shivers.
He then thinks back to his apprentice, Nao. The short time they’ve spent together hasn’t been that bad, and has even helped boost Leshy’s ego a bit. Nao has always seemed happy to talk to him again and again, even when he doesn’t get a response, and for someone shy, he’s always been radiant in his presence. But Nao doesn’t seem very brave—to be precise, he seems like a real coward when it comes to setting foot outside the camp. Perhaps this is another opportunity for Leshy to honor the offer he made to the feline and, at the same time, impress him a little.
Once again, he grins with all his teeth, a plan already starting to form in his mind.

- How many cats do you know ?

With a both hasty and nervous step, Nao tries to follow the Lamb, walking a little faster than him, to the mission post.

- Are you sure about this, my leader ? he asks in a trembling voice. I really wouldn't want to bother him, and -
- I promise you that everything will be fine! the Lamb says. He's the one who asked you to accompany him! He's not as thoughtless as he seems!
- I- really?! But we barely know each other! We're not friends! I really don't see any reason why he would choose me!
- Yet, you would make a great team! Nao, I am convinced that everything will go well with him!
- My leader, I owe you complete trust, however allow me to doubt it just this once! I am incapable of making myself small enough in a team and you know it better than anyone!
- Oh, Nao…

The bearer of the red crown suddenly stops walking - surprised because he had to trot to keep up with his pace, the yellow cat stops abruptly and almost slips on the ground.
The Lamb then holds out both hands to the feline, looking at him with great kindness. Seeing this, Nao thinks for a moment then shakes his head, so the guide signals that he understands and lowers his hands.

- You have received a gift recently, am I wrong? the latter asks.
- No, my leader, the feline then replies, feeling shame rise to his cheeks. It was a pretty bouquet of camellias.
- Aw, that is so thoughtful! And where has that bouquet been since?
- I put it in a pot, and... A-and I put a bit of clean water in it every evening.
- That's a good idea. I advise you to keep the dirty water to use in the fields.
- Understood, my leader.
- But tell me, this pretty bouquet… I think it was Leshy who made it for you, was it?

The more this conversation goes on, the more Nao feels ashamed, to feel this way and to dare to contradict his lord. Staring at his feet, he starts playing with his fingers, without much success in his quest for comfort.

- That's... T-That's what the woman who gave me this gift told me...
- You shouldn't feel the need to make yourself small, declares the Lamb. Leshy would not have taken the time to make a gift like this if he didn't appreciate you at least a little. I'm sure he'll help you blossom, and if he does the opposite, count on me to kick his leafy butt ! I swore to support you, and I would hate to betray your loyalty.

The leader resumes his walk, with a slightly slower pace than before, before turning to his follower, inviting him to follow him. However, he remains rooted to the spot, and no longer dares to look up.

- Something wrong ? asks the crown bearer. Do you have pain somewhere? We can go see Kallamar before you leave.

- No, no, everything is fine-
- You reek of anxiety, Nao! states the woolly one, worried about his follower. Tell me everything, I swear I won't hold it against you.
- Well, since you ask, my lord...

The yellow cat plays with the fabric of his tunic, always avoiding the conversation with his eyes. The shame that only rose to his cheeks is probably visible all over his body now, and if he could make it disappear right now, he would do it no matter the cost. He first feels his heart, his beating heart, reminding him that he is alive. Then he feels his lungs, his lungs that inflate and deflate faster and faster as he thinks. Then comes his liver, well in place, and finally his nerves that miraculously survive every day.
Once he has gone around, Nao breathes deeply. His organs are functional. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine.
He tries to answer the question.

- I had already told you my fears about the outside world, he says, present since you rescued me. But I fear they are still there, despite my efforts to chase them away, and I want you to know that I am sorry for this and-
- Oh, no, I refuse to let you apologize for that! the Lamb interrupts, in a kind tone all the same. Go on.
- Uh- well, the thing is that Leshy… Leshy, he doesn’t know anything about it. I refused to talk to him about the outside. I refused to listen to him when he talked about it, I was rude and I’m sure he’s mad at me. I don’t want him to think I’m a coward, but deep down, I’m still terrified of going out… Oh, my leader, I don’t know if I can go fishing.

The Lamb, attentive to each word offered to him through this confidence, stretches out his arms again towards his follower, palms of his hands towards the sky. A moment of hesitation fixes Nao on the spot but he ends up dispelling it and, unlike the previous time, places his own hands there, before they get held without the slightest force.

- You are one of my most faithful followers and I love you as much as I love the others, declares the Lamb, taking care never to look him in the eye. I will entrust you with a necklace to protect you as I have done for all the missionaries. If you think you have hurt Leshy, here is an opportunity to ask him for forgiveness but know that nothing forces you to do so. You are just as capable as anyone, and it is to you that I wish to entrust this fishing mission. If you refuse, Leshy can very well manage alone, but would you grace us with your presence?

At the missionary, the Lamb takes the time to check that his two missionaries are not missing anything - even if they are not venturing into a far or dangerous place, he does not want to take any risks. Protective collars, map, fishing rods, nets, drinking water, baits...

- You look ready to me, he declares with a big smile. Come back before sunset and bring back as many fish as possible, so we can have a feast. I would kill for a piece of tuna!
- You would kill for less than that, admit it, says Leshy.
- It depends on who we are talking about.

Nao may be the type to very quickly imagine the worst, but he has very good instincts; what he feels, just with this little bit of conversation, this very slight change in the tone of this voice, these slightly higher shoulders, is a tension that is starting to rise. The problem is that among the few tasks he can perform without any problem, defusing an argument is not within his reach - he is often even held responsible for what happens around him. He will not be able to calm down an argument between Leshy and the guide. He has to get out of here, and fast, faster than that.
Ready to leave the place even if it means running, he taps the strap of his mentor's bag, and waves to the Lamb.

- We will not disappoint you, we will follow your orders, my leader! he claims, grabbing Leshy's hand. I have remembered the route, let's go!
- But- Wait!

Without the worm being able to react, the latter is dragged out of the camp limits - something unexpected for the only witness, nevertheless happy that Nao is taking initiatives after their discussion.
He sighs with relief, thinking back to the bit of discussion he had with Leshy.

- Nari was right, he will end up understanding... The sermon must take place tomorrow. I will ask Kallamar about his gift.

Kallamar, in fact, has taken a break. Naps on a desk are not comfortable; nothing beats his corner of shelter, which he has decorated to his taste in the hope of curing a more than troubled sleep. He pushes back the curtain of the bishops' shelter, bringing his other hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn.

- 'tis I... he says before getting used to the less intense light inside.

At the foot of their youngest brother's bed, he sees his sister, looking thoughtful. She seems to be searching him, for a purpose still unknown to Kallamar who settles down next to him.

- What are you doing? he asks, glancing over.

The advantage the frog finds in her brother is that he is relatively intelligent; she doesn't need to strain her bruised throat to communicate with him. She turns around, in order to face him very clearly.
The squid now has a better viewing angle on the scene; Heket would try, as best she can, to do something with the half-crushed flowers lying at the bottom of the bed. Judging by an arrangement that seems to make a minimum of sense, the goal would be aesthetic.

- Oh, can I have some? he asks, already holding out his arm. I'll make some oin-
- NO!

Without hesitation, Heket lands a violent punch on her older brother, who fails to dodge it and groans at the pain.

- Ow ! What is wrong with you?! he shouts on the verge of tears.

The frog waves her arms in his direction, looking at him with an angry look.

- "To Leshy," she makes clear with coded hand gestures. "Do not touch."
- He doesn't need it-
- "You not know anything about it. Do not touch."

Kallamar sighs. Very well, he'll get flowers elsewhere, but now another idea is running through his mind.

- Why are you doing this? You're not the type to like elaborate decorations, if I remember well enough.

Heket hesitates a lot to answer, so to give herself the little bit of courage she needs, she just looks away, without avoiding her brother.

- "I am practicing," she signs. "We can not give all responsibilities."
- Leshy can manage to clean his bed, you know?
- "Not Leshy."
- The Lamb?
- "No."
- … Oh.

Both compassionate and frightened by the potential consequences of his gesture, Kallamar puts an arm around his sister's shoulders. Instead of hitting him as he expected, she herself comes to rest her head on his shoulder, something that surprises him to the point that he finds himself completely paralyzed.
She says nothing, and makes no sign. She simply closes her eyes, as if this moment, which neither of them would have suspected the possibility of a few minutes before, was enough to sweep away her fears. Soon, Kallamar joins her, and rests his own head on hers, forming an unexpected embrace.

The sound of the breeze passing between the leaves of the bushes. The sound of the water flowing at the fountain placed not far from their shelter. The ambient smell of a bowl of soup only half eaten, which cools down with the passage of time. The voices of the followers everywhere.
All these bits of the environment around them can be annoying, entertaining or even painful; at that moment, for this brother and sister who only wanted that, they are soothing.

- Going… Suffer… Heket says in a hoarse voice, struggling to articulate.
- I have everything prepared. Everything will be fine.
- Liar…
- I swear I’m not lying to you. I have planned their first aid, their healing program, I even put some crystals aside if needed. It will be fine.

Tears begin to flow down Heket’s cheeks, she who always takes the greatest care to appear “strong and valiant”. Before she can even hide them as usual, Kallamar wipes them away with her sleeve.

- It’s just water, it will dry, he declares so as not to make her feel bad. I tried to remake my good old ointment, do you want to try it?

But Heket simply shakes her head as no.

- Okay… Okay. No ointment.
- “You weird,” she states clear with signs.
- Uh- Says the one who eats up to eight meals a day, mind you!
- “I am hungry, I eat. Not weird. You are.”
- Okay, okay, you have a point.

And again, the web of sounds that lulled them just before.
And again, an embrace shared between a fearful brother and a troubled sister.
A calm atmosphere that is never too much, except perhaps in the absence of a loved one.
After a soothing but long silence, punctuated by the discreet melody from outside, Heket makes signs to her elder again.

- “Do you really think it will be okay?” she asks, still thoughtful.
- This time, yes. At least, I hope so. No one will come to separate us this time, unless the Lamb feels traitorous again.
- Foul... Beast... mumbles the frog, clutching her top tightly.
- Hey, easy. I was just joking.

One of the few lies Kallamar has allowed himself since he was brought back to life.

What Kallamar doesn’t tell anyone is the images. The ones that play on a loop in his head, the ones that give him sleepless nights, the ones that make him incapable of even looking in Narinder’s direction if they have the misfortune of crossing paths.
These images that paralyze him, that torture him again and again as if he was returning to purgatory from time to time. These images that put him in all his states, again and again, day after day.
Blood. Lots of blood. A range of red sometimes turning brown, colors that smell bad, very bad. Guts, from time to time. Screams. An eye. A piece of throat. Two ears decorated with a load of jewels. The screams stop. A deathly silence. They are missing a piece of head.
Then the sacrificial beast. It survives. It kills the only brother he has left. Then his sister. And he, in all his cowardice, in all the monstrosity he can show, in all the selfishness he can muster, he fled, and threw the only loved one he had left into the jaws of the beast. It didn't even work. He suffered the fate he deserved without even being rewarded for his poor strategy.

The last time the siblings were together, things were finished off in the worst possible way. A tragic event that plunged them into a cycle of violence until this lamb came along.
When the Lamb announced his plan to Kallamar, the images all came back at once, pinning him to the ground, forcing him into a curled-up position, threatening a third cycle of torture. They were all going to die, again. But once the images had dissipated for the moment, he finally managed to think. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe this time, just this once, all is not lost. They will be together again, and this time, an age of peace is offered to them. He has a chance to redeem himself for what he dared to try to do. It seems insurmountable because they have never known a setting like this. But this time, everything might be okay. Just this once.

Despite this seed of hope that he is making bloom with all his being, Kallamar has no false hopes: he is not the only one seeing these images in his mind, and the transition is going to be hard to swallow. He and his sister are ready, but remain invaded by doubts and worries, hence Kallamar's sometimes obsessive control, and this new habit of paying as much attention as possible to his family. Leshy remains, and the Lamb has given them a very strange order: do not tell him.

- Say, there is someone who has been hanging around Leshy a lot lately, the elder says to start the subject. A yellow cat, I believe.
- Hm.
- You've met him before, I think. I find him really intriguing, I've never been able to talk to him. Do you see what kind of person he is?
- "I have met him several times," the sister replies. "I not know more. Why?"
- Because, to be honest, I find it impressive that Leshy hasn't thrown him away yet. You've seen it as well as I have, he can't stand anyone here.

Heket puts a hand to her head and knocks gently on it, which makes Kallamar laugh softly.

- It's true that they're not all very distinguished, the latter says. However, I have the feeling that this cat is one of the exceptions.
- "Why?"
- I don't know, an intuition I suppose. I feel like there's something going on between these two, but I can't name it. I guess it's because it's just the beginning, or I'm worrying too much, for a change.

It is now Heket who laughs softly, as if she already had the answer.
Unable to hide his worries any longer, Kallamar let out a long sigh.

- I have to be completely honest with you, Heket. I’ve been watching Leshy a lot lately, and no matter how many angles I watch the situation from, I don’t think he’s ready to move ahead.

Chapter Text

A sea breeze blows and shakes the leaves of the vegetation gently and harmoniously. It carries the smell of freshly caught fish, seaweed trapped in the nets, ashes fallen into the grill fire, and voices holding all sorts of gossip about strange deities and cultists. In short, nature is carried by the wind, in a rare union.
The atmosphere is lively and soothing at the same time; a mixture of spirits and all that accompanies them, not as agitated as a party but no less alive because of this web of details, animates this joyful bubble of people.

At the Pilgrim Passage, the lighthouse is lit but its light remains very weak, letting the sun shine in its place through a very soft blue sky, so that fishermen and merchants can enjoy the good weather. The green moss is growing more and more on the creaking wooden bridge, discussions are fusing between the cultists passing on the latest news from the area, and the fish are gathering underwater, attracted by the powdered food thrown at them by a local regular, dressed in an aging sweater, a prominent moustache and an even more prominent nose.

It is in this charming and relatively calm setting that a breathless Nao arrives, not even knowing what he was trying to escape with this race, and a more than confused Leshy but happy to have arrived rather quickly at their common destination. The latter takes a deep breath of air, filling his nostrils with the ambient smell of fresh air and embers; they are indeed at the port, the yellow cat was not mistaken. They can finally settle down and relax.

- Honestly, I didn't think you'd need the map so little, the worm says, turning to his sidekick.
- The Lamb showed me the way in detail before we left, Nao explains. I guess he was afraid we'd get lost, since I would have been the only one who could read this map.
- Pff, as if I could have gotten lost. It does tons of noise, running like you did!

The feline is only half-listening, his gaze completely fixed on his hand. He can hardly believe what he did earlier; lately, his actions make no sense, he's acting haphazardly and it won't take long to harm him.
When he left, out of pure reflex in his escape, he has grabbed Leshy's hand firmly, without even warning him, dragging him for several meters before finally realizing his gesture and letting go, praying that he wouldn't notice anything for the rest of the journey. So that is what he was trying to escape: the reaction of his comrade, who could very well have yelled at him or hit him.
Embarrassed, he tells himself that he still has to be honest even if it means paying for it, and clears his throat.

- I- I'm sorry about e-earlier-
- You mean my hand? Leshy interrupts as if he expected it. I already told you that it was not necessary to always ask.
- But, it is not that simple!
- From my point of view, it is.

What he said is simple, and benevolent in appearance - yet there seems to be a problem, this reaction hides something.
Leshy's tone is calm, much too calm for someone so energetic, and the thing has been solved much faster than the yellow cat expected; for him, it is very suspicious. The latter raises an eyebrow, curious and worried at the same time, but before he can come up with the slightest theory on this sudden nonchalance, the worm breaks the discomfort by suddenly bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, probably audible to all the people of the port. He points to the bandage tied around his head, holding his torso with his other arm.

- Do you get it ?! he says, struggling to breathe. My view ! 'Cause I don't have eyes anymore! Get it ?!

Although he admires his ability to laugh, Nao doesn't know if this joke was tinged with sarcasm or if, as opposite, it oozes sincerity as it seemed at first glance. Leshy is someone mysterious to him, and he has never been good at solving mysteries. He is still relieved not to receive any resentment.
So, not wanting to ruin the mood but without real credibility either, Nao laughs too, telling himself that he will have at least learned something about his mentor: he is not blind from birth, since he "lost" his eye... But, in what way? Can he allow himself to ask him the question?

Moreover, thinking of it, Leshy is the type to play pranks all the time, but this joke does not resemble his temperamental sarcasm, nor what the Lamb described to him before they met. It also doesn't sound completely honest, unlike the worm's usual speeches.
Maybe this joke is meant to hide something else.

Sitting at the fishing spot near the mossy bridge, the two friends take advantage of the light wind blowing on them while scanning the water - Leshy thanks to the vibrations of his fishing rod, and Nao by monitoring the movement of the water on its surface. Despite their vigilance, the minutes pass without the slightest small sardine deigning to bite Nao's hook, while Leshy is already on his third catch.

Sitting near them and also trying to catch some fish, a big guy glances at them, adjusting his funny sweater to better look at the observers. For him, the catches are not so rare, and seeing these two not catching anything of quality almost makes him sad - almost, should one not exaggerate. Sympathetic, and wishing to show the extent of his knowledge on this subject, he drops to one knee and turns to his two colleagues.

- Hey, man!

Not being sure that someone is talking to him, Nao turns to the fisherman anyway; he is immediately struck by his appearance, that of a fish as well. A fish, fully equipped for fishing.

"Wha- is cannibalism still widespread?" he wonders, surprised and with a hint of worry, before answering him.

- Um, yes?
- Your green buddy steals all the good catches, it seems! Most of the time, when there is no one at the party, it is a problem of bait. Let me see your rod, my fellow !

Still fearful but obedient, Nao pulls up the line of his fishing rod... Only to discover, once his hook is out of the water and in his hand, that his last bait has completely disappeared. It was probably snatched by a fish smart enough to get a snack without getting skewered, thus scurrying away from the shore with the grainy berrie-tasting paste. The unexpected scene makes the experienced fisherman laugh a real, real lot, and each moment of this laughter comes to scratch the feline's ears a little harder as if he were planting needles in them. He is confronted with his incompetence and, at the camp, this would probably cause him prejudice from the other followers. Fortunately for him, this laughter will not have only provoked his reaction.

- What's making you chuckle like a sacrifice on its altar, you moron?! Leshy says, gritting his teeth. Shut your big mouth! Can't you see that we're working?!
- A fish took off with my bait, Nao explains, tears in his eyes. I haven't caught anything yet, I'm sorry-
- Hey, don't make that face, man! I'll show you how to hook these things securely, let me do it!

Not daring to refuse while his mentor refrains from going to give their neighbor a big fat slap, Nao lends his rod to the fisherman, as well as an additional bait. The latter, with a precision he has rarely seen, wraps the colored paste around not the end of the hook, but further, around its slight curve, just below.
This gesture completed, he returns the rod to its owner, looking proud.

- Try it like this, my fellow, he said with a hint of arrogance.

Nao obeys and throws his line back into the water, then goes back to waiting with his friend, praying that it would bite soon. In order not to think about the failure he has just experienced at the risk of being less efficient, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and concentrates on his rod, waiting for it to move…
And after a time that seemed interminable to him, it finally bit; surprised, he immediately rewound the line, pulling on his rod as hard as he could. He fought against his rod to keep his grip before it managed to escape, leaning back for fear of joining it. Having his main tasks as an adept in the kitchens and fields would at least have given him the endurance and strength for this kind of activity.
After a final physical effort, a tuna finally comes out of the water, rather small and not very wide, but a tuna as he had been asked; however, his gesture to get it out of the water was so strong that Nao, unbalanced, collapses backwards and finds himself sprawled on his back on the ground. The fish falls directly on his face, as if to underline the ridiculousness of the situation.

- Did you catch one? Leshy asks, intrigued by this fall whiches details he doesn't perceive.
- Well... I think so, yes... I have it on the tip of my nose, right now.
- YEAH! the worm exclaims, picking up the unfortunate fish to free his apprentice. Well done!

Nao immediately straightens up once freed, but can't help but look away.
This compliment was completely unexpected, especially given with such enthusiasm. He only caught one fish, wasn't even able to do it alone, and yet he gets such a reaction?
Maybe he can do it again, while they're still there. If he succeeds, he might receive other compliments. He has to try his luck!

So he settles down, and does his best to fish. He hooks his bait as he was shown, throws his hook as far as possible and shows legendary patience, but his efforts still don't seem to pay off; he manages to catch a few, yes, but they remain rather meager and infrequent. In the same way as during the Lamb's encouragement, shame begins to rise to his cheeks. He is probably a pretty bad apprentice.
However, Leshy doesn't seem to care. He just continues his task, catching slightly larger fish before throwing them into his net near him. From time to time, he asks Nao to describe his new catch, for want of seeing it. He doesn't seem to pay attention to the details, as if he weren't even really there.

In the sky, the few clouds that have decorated it slowly part, revealing the sun a little more. Its light comes to reflect on the surface of the watering hole, but also to envelop the fishermen. It’s sunny. It’s nice. Perfect weather for a barbecue, and nothing like a barbecue to get the camp going. The yellow cat’s belly starts to growl quietly, while Leshy sees himself back behind the kitchen board mistreating a piece of meat that would have made a wonderful lunch – maybe it’s better that he’s not in charge of the cooking today.

The worm notices, after a long time, that the only sounds he can hear are those of the surrounding chatter and the wind on the leaves; his neighbor has stopped talking for a while.

- Why aren’t you talking anymore? he asks without thinking.

Nao jumps – context is really not his mentor’s best friend.

- Well, actually, you’ll probably find it ridiculous, the cat explains, but I’m still afraid of talking too much. I wouldn’t want you to get tired of me, hehe!
- I doubt that’s possible. You’re pretty original.

"Original?” Nao wonders, flattered but very surprised. “Is he the one who finds me original?”
He did it. He finally got his compliment. Unless it wasn’t one, actually.
The embarrassment of his apprentice’s reaction camouflaged by his blindness, Leshy stands up and tightens his grip on his cane.

- I told you about this habit you have, he says, adjusting his pose. You step aside and erase yourself to let others exist in your place, and that’s your biggest mistake. Let me honor my offer by giving you a real lesson this time!

Attentive and very interested, Nao stands up and approaches the mossy worm in order to better observe its actions – after all, for a blind person, body language takes on a whole new meaning.

The said blind guy bends his knees slightly and Nao, by reflex, imitates him.

- You have to see conversation as a form of hunting, Leshy explains, or fishing in our case. You need a strategy. Not the kind where you scramble in your mind until you find what will satisfy the other, that’s just an illusion, a bait, and it’s not your target that it guides but your own self.

The feline glances at the water. The hook doesn’t seem to have moved an inch.

- Although the bait has its uses, in fact it only serves as a pretext for the other, the mossy worm continues with all the seriousness in the world. So much the better if you have it, but an experienced fisherman largely does without it. Now that this is settled, you just have to wait, just watch.
- Watch? Nao repeats, unsure of having understood.
- Basically, you do as usual. You observe them, you take as many details as you like. It can be a lot, and it can be very little. In an instant, you can know a whole bunch of things about the other! In fact, it depends on the interest you have in the person. Your interest comes from yourself, so it's a precious thing that you shouldn't grant to just anyone.

Just anyone...
Is Leshy "just anyone" in his eyes?
Is Nao himself "anyone"?

Are they giving each other enough interest, or the opposite, are they giving themselves too much?

Weak waves form on the surface but no fish seem to bite. However, Leshy moves his rod very slightly.

- It can be quick, just as it can take several minutes, says the latter, bending his legs a little more to take better support. The trick is not to concentrate too much on the moment when you strike, at the risk of sacrificing part of the power of your gesture. In other words, to choose the moment to strike the other, you have to be... spontaneous!

With these words and without any other form of announcement, Leshy contracts his arms and gives a big jerk on his rod, tearing the hook out of the water; without Nao even having felt him approach, he sees a much bigger tuna emerge from the water than what they had previously caught, trapped by the line that had wrapped itself around its body – the poor fish finding itself trapped there without even having touched the said hook devoid of bait.
Impressed, Nao hastens to grab the tuna to free it from its chains – or rather from its line – and puts it away with his deceased buddies.
So it would be that simple? To succeed in communicating, all it would take is… Not to think about it? It seems completely insane, the yellow cat thinks. There must be a detail that he doesn't get !

Indeed, something very important is missing. Being spontaneous and not thinking are not the same forms of interaction. Spontaneity requires little thought.
What Nao lacks, he who is always looking for the smallest details and the order in which to organize them, who always wants to do his best without the slightest imperfection at the risk of being criticized for them, is precisely, perhaps, to act despite the imperfections that await him, to outline a more flexible strategy to embrace all its consequences if the situation allows him to.

This situation allows him to do so.

Wanting to test his theory and prove that he is a good apprentice, Nao returns to his place and settles down, putting bait back on his hook before throwing it into the water.

Then he waits.
More.
And more.
The sun shines and caresses them with its soft rays, soothing. A bit like the time when they had settled down near the tree.

The feline begins to fear discomfort because of the silence, fortunately his mentor breaks the ice first.

- Can I ask you a question, while you wait for it to bite ? he says while monitoring his own future catch.
- Oh, well, yes-
- Do you remember the little girl who saw a monster? You told her that you only allowed "special people" to touch you. Since you held my hand several times, does that mean I'm special?

Yes.
Of course that's what it means. It's never meant anything else.
And yet Nao's throat tightens and he finally has the light bulb go off: since he's known Leshy, even though they're not friends, they've touched hands several times. He's been very tactile with someone he barely knew, while even the only friend he'd made at the camp couldn't touch him in the slightest.
To him, Leshy is special, and he didn't even realize it. And he's been in denial all this time.
The mossy worm grins with all his teeth.

- Well, I know very well that I'm special! he declares proudly. I'll just find it funny to hear you say it.

Nao is embarrassed, much more than embarrassed. He stops himself from dropping his equipment to bury his face in his hands. He really did that? By all the stars, he really did that.
While he was going to stammer out a not-so-great explanation in the hope of saving appearances, he looks at the water near where he had thrown his line...

It moves. The movement is weak, almost invisible, but it moves. Spontaneity. Nao firmly grabs his rod and, not shaking the line at the risk of scaring away a possible catch, plunges it in and then pulls it out strongly too. It seems that he has succeeded because, at the end of the line, there is a completely ordinary tuna, also trapped in the line wrapped around its wriggling body. Eyes full of stars, the yellow cat turns to his friend.

- Leshy, I did it! he exclaims, handing the fish to the latter. I got one, thanks to you!

Happy to have finally taught the cat something, the worm takes care of freeing the catch to throw it with the others. At this rate, their net will be full before long.
Nao cannot contain his joy. He has finally managed to follow the advice!

- Oh, that is so great! he says, wriggling almost more than his previous catch. You helped me succeed! I did it!

Eager to catch more, he puts some bait back on his hook, while Leshy savors his victory; his plan is a great success.

The sun will soon set, the sky will take on a slightly orange hue, reminiscent of a barely lit fireplace. The net that the worm and the cat had brought is almost full - Leshy's method works wonders. One or two catches should be enough before they can finally return to camp and enjoy a good dinner.

Nao was not only watching his rod, but also his mentor, who seemed to have forgotten the question asked earlier - so much the better, because the feline could not find a sufficient explanation. He could not just tell him "I've wanted to do this for a long time, you allowed me and you're nice!", no, it will never be enough. This is not the kind of excuse acceptable to normal people. Unless Leshy is not normal? If he is not normal, he is certainly not the same "not normal" as Nao.

Under his gaze distracted by the sound, Leshy catches a new fish, adding it to the pile. He seems satisfied, judging by his little grin of pride.

- It looks like we have a lot, he states. Catch a last one and we can go home.

Obediently, Nao observes his bait - coincidence, it bites, and a small salmon comes out of the water. The cat then thinks that its size makes it insufficient, but the worm takes it and feels it, seeming surprised.

- Hey, that one has a pretty big belly ! You found a really fat one, I must admit that I'm rather proud of my apprentice!
- Really ?!

Another compliment. Someone is proud of him. Not just anyone, either; Leshy is proud of him!
In a burst of enthusiasm mixed with a hint of naivety, the yellow cat stops thinking, too happy to realize the gesture he is starting to make.
He stretches out his arms and, a huge smile on his lips, approaches Leshy very quickly… Who, when they barely begin to brush against each other, pushes him away with a strong backhand.

Silence falls over them.
Shame, too. Much more than earlier in the day.
Nao was going to be tactile. Again. He didn’t even ask. What a monster. By all the stars, he really did that. It’s horrible.

The worm is more than confused. What just happened? What did Nao want to do, what was he thinking, what were his intentions? Why did he want to do that? Why did Leshy push him away if he doesn't mind physical contact with him? He didn't need to be that repulsive. But he is. But he doesn't. But of course he is. Who does he think he is?

This time nothing comes to chase away the unease that imprisons them, the air becomes heavy and suddenly the sun's rays are no longer as warm. The orange of the sky, becoming deeper and darker, no longer recalls the friendly fire of a fireplace but rather a soup that is too cooked and cooled. The breeze itself brings this feeling of cold.

Leshy closes the net loaded with fish and begins to put away the supplies they had brought. He remains completely turned away.

- Don't do that again, he says in a tone that could not be more curt.
- Y-yes...
- We're going back. You go first.
- Yes...

Under the gaze of the experienced fisherman, understanding the scene barely more than the people it is about, the latter leave the port, both as sheepish as ever.

Chapter Text

- Wow, that's a crap lot of cotton! Why did the Lamb prepare so much, seriously?!

At the tailor. The last rays of the sun have softened slightly, thanks to a few clouds casting a meek shadow over the camp. Under an orange sky, the followers carry out their last tasks of the day while waiting for dinner time.
A playful axolotl, arms laden with fabric, accompanied by a nervous Nao, organizes and sorts the supplies at the guide's request. The atmosphere seems relatively relaxed, despite the events that preceded the feline's day.

- I think a ritual is being prepared, because it's often during these times that the Lamb builds up large stocks of resources, the latter states, spreading a large silk cloth on the ground. Well, it's still weird, because normally, it's food and bones that are stored in absurdly large quantities, but maybe offerings are planned or-

- Wait, Nao, wait, his colleague says. You're doing it again.

- Oh, I-

- And before you apologize, everything's fine. It's just that I noticed how uncomfortable it made you, so I thought…

- Yes, I see. Thank you.

Despite his comrade's attentiveness, for which he's grateful, Nao hides behind the large piece of soft fabric he's been working on. He's done it again. It's a good thing he doesn't work with anyone who minds it, or was this just sarcasm?

Since returning from his fishing mission, Nao has been unable to concentrate on anything. His hands keep shaking, and when he tries to distract himself, it only makes things worse; he's found no other solution than to endure it, even if it means dragging himself around like a zombie for the rest of the day. The Lamb, in a somewhat failed attempt to help, offered to help him organize the workshop's supplies, hence his presence, fortunately with a patient follower. The two even chatted a little, spending some quality time together without any real complications, allowing the cat to rest for a change. Maybe Leshy's tricks are actually working, for a change.
They have not been tasked to make or reorganize anything. They just need to fold and put away some fabrics. It's within the reach of even the most foolish of idiots, right? Yes, it is. Everything should be fine.
But he's already had enough for today. So, before being sucked into another spiral of doubt, he slaps himself on the head and gets back to his task. The axolotl, noticing the expressions the Lamb had previously shared with him, also gets back to work without interrupting the conversation, in an attempt to break the ice.

- I wouldn't mind an extra pair of hands, so we don't sweat ourselves out so much! he says, checking the quantities. What about your bear-ish pal, you think he could give us a hand ?

- I doubt it, Nao replies, getting up. He hasn't spoken to me for a few days now. I think he's mad at me for something.

- Seriously? the axolotl asks in surprise. Don't tell me it's about that steak thing!

- W-what steak thing?

- You know, that time your other friend burned some meat? That bitter bear was so angry he wanted to tell everyone about it... I know that, wait a minute, Laich... Oh right, Leshy! He's not the most sociable guy I know, but honestly, he's still better company than that other guy... Honestly, I have a feeling he was upset about something else. Besides, 'twas a bad idea to pick a blind dude at cooking, he could have hurt himself!

So Leshy has made a reputation for himself as a cook... Either it amuses him, or it does the complete opposite. Maybe Nao shouldn't have approached him that day. There would have been no argument, no flowers, no scene at the port. He wouldn't have gotten close to Leshy, wouldn't have gone to the port, and wouldn't have embarrassed him like that...
Actually, idea doesn't really appeal to him, quite the opposite. The more he thinks about a present like this, the more nausea rises in his stomach. He can't help but think of the small bouquet carefully placed in his shelter, near the window to bathe in natural light. He'd better avoid the flower fields today.
His movements are confused. Since returning from that very short expedition, he's been unable to do anything properly with his hands. It's as if the frustration with himself is reaching him down to the physical level... For the love of the Lamb, why does he feel guilty about everything that's happening?

The problem is that he has not explained his troubles to anyone, thinking them far too strange to bother others. No one in the cult is aware of the difficulties impacting Nao's daily life—in fact, it would be more accurate to say that everyone witnesses them, but no one has the slightest explanation for it. No one, except the leader, who welcomed him without the slightest rejection and has since honored their promise to protect him in a safe place.

Actually, there is someone. Someone else knows, and doesn't seem to mind. Except that someone is angry with him. That someone had to reject him. That someone is probably too polite to have done it sooner. Looking back, this mentor-apprentice relationship was truly a bizarre proposition. There had to be something else behind it. But if it's just an excuse, what is it hiding, and why?

- You know, Leshy is not really my "friend", he states to correct the other. He's just helping me, even though I'm already grateful !

- Seriously? the other follower asks, surprised yet again. From the outside, though, you really do look like it!

- Oh, you, um, you think so?

- Well, yeah! You're often together, and you seem much more comfortable with him than with other people... I don't take it personally, though ! He's probably a chill guy if you spend time with him. Good for you, guys, good for you.

- You think he seems comfortable? I feel more like I'm the one embarrassing him.

- Oh, I was just saying that for you. In his case, the right word would be more... Um, how should I put it... "Nice".

"Nice"? Nao repeats in his mind, as if he doesn't believe it. He's never heard of the worm that way and certainly wouldn't use that word to describe his personnality himself; comments about it are rarely complimentary, except from the little ones he occasionally amuses. So the idea that anyone would call Leshy "nice" seems completely absurd, unless he has helped other people the same way before perhaps.

- Well, I've worked with him before, and he gets frustrated easily, like, really easily ! the axolotl insists, grimacing, riddled with bad memories. Honestly, compared to his usual attitude, you're acting like a tranquilizer on him! It's crazy, dude, I wish I could do such a thing myself !

A tranquilizer? That bad ? Although Leshy has a reputation for being a hothead, his apprentice wasn't expecting such a remark, so much so that he doubts its veracity. To verify this, we would need the help of someone completely neutral in the situation, someone who knows Leshy as well as Nao... Perhaps the doctor? No, that's too risky a bet; Nao doesn't often see him.

A much better candidate then arrives at the tailor; trotting to join them faster, the leader arrives, a huge smile on his face as if he's bringing good news. He greets Nao with a simple wave of his hand, adjusts his collar, shakes the axolotl's hand, and begins to chat with the latter about their task. They quickly review what the adept had to accomplish today, before adopting a different tone and asking him to go chop wood. Suspicious, the adept agrees nonetheless, and soon the yellow cat finds himself alone. with his guide.

As before the expedition, the Lamb extends both hands toward Nao, inviting him to take them, and once again he politely declines with a nod. The guide doesn't press the issue, adopting the benevolent tone usual at ceremonies; his ability to change his voice impresses many, but this is the only situation the cat is never wary of him.

- So, how did the fishing go? the guide asks, their eyes full of hope. I hope you have some stuff to tell me about !

- Well, we caught a lot of fish-

- Not this, my dear, not this! I'm talking about your comrade on the mission! He didn't bother you, did he ?

Nao recalls his bitter failure, and the worm's reaction. Perhaps confessing everything would help him obtain forgiveness, even if they're not in the confessional... So he takes a breath to give himself courage, as usual, and looks at his leader's collar.

- To tell you the truth, it was me who bothered him, he confesses. I had a very bad reaction when I was happy, and... And he pushed me back.

- Pushed, you say?

The Lamb places a hand on his chin. He doesn't seem to understand what's going on any more than his follower does.

- Yes, I tried to hug him... at least, I think ? I reached out to him, almost reflexively, and he pushed me away so as not to touch me, or at least I think he was trying to avoid that contact. I don't get the feeling he has the same problems as me, though. But of course, that is only my perception! I know I did something wrong, my leader, but I don't know how to ask for forgiveness! I really don't want him to hold a grudge, even if it might be a selfish desire. What do you think?

- He's a coward.

A deep yet strong voice, smooth yet intimidating, something very different from the leader's, suddenly appears from behind them. Nao jumps, then raises his head: in their presence is a third person, the leader's assistant, the one who's usually never heard speaking, the one who intimidates the rebellious followers, a tall black cat that towers over him by at least a head—he's never been physically close enough to count how many heads, and no one would dare.
How did he manage not to notice him, with such an aura? How does he manage to be so discreet? He is so discreet that simply hearing his voice is, for Nao, a privilege: it's a voice the followers almost never hear, the subject of a multitude of gossip and theories. At least he's finally found something to brag about, or at least start a conversation about.

Driven by an almost instinctive reflex, Nao suddenly leans forward to make a very tense gesture: he absolutely must show his respect.

- M-my best regards, Sire Na-rinder! he stammers quickly.

- Come on, come on, no need to be so polite, he's not going to sacrifice you! the Lamb states, laughing softly, before turning to the black cat and nudging him with their elbow. And you, stop scaring my entire cult! They will all run away, if you keep doing this !

 - That does not prove me wrong, the latter asserts. Leshy prefers running away to honesty.

- You seriously thing you are one to talk about honesty, perhaps? the guide asks sarcastically, pointing to his crown.

- … Point given, but he's still a big coward. Knowing him, he wanted to, but he had to refuse under an equally implausible excuse. I cannot think of anything else that could have pushed him to respond that way.

The yellow cat remains perplexed by this interaction, which he struggles to decipher. The cowardice theory seems, upon reflection, rather plausible—it's common for people to avoid admitting how they feel by pretending something else, as long as it goes down better. This idea doesn't seem strange to someone like the worm, who can't stand strangers and talks nonsense to impress the younger ones.
However, this solution seems too simple. Limiting this physical rejection to a refusal to communicate seems all too easy a conclusion. Narinder doesn't have all the details, so it's logical on his part, but Nao knows that the real reason for this refusal is something else entirely; he's convinced of it, and has a very good instinct regarding this kind of thing.

Even though he doesn't understand everything that's being said, the yellow feline understands that the other cat is talking about him—it's hard not to notice when you're being pointed at by finger, especially by someone who seems to prefer death to people in his daily life. The leader and their assistant seem to agree on something, about rituals and the temple, and everything seems much more complex than usual.
Nao wants to concentrate on the conversation, feeling like this has to do with him, however he can't help but think of the elephant—or rather, the cat—in the room: the guide's assistant, the tall, silent, dark one, has actually spoken and is helping to solve his problem! It's incredible! He has a very beautiful voice, too, a bit like Leshy.
... Like Leshy?

- Good, then let's do it this way! declares the Lamb. Well, if Nao is fine with it, that is.

Hearing his name, the latter is suddenly pulled out of his thoughts. Fearing to disappoint his guide, he stiffens abruptly, unable to find any false explanation.

- My apologies, he says, feeling his throat tighten, but I'm confused...

- It's okay, it's okay, the Lamb replies. Narinder was simply going to-

- Resurrection planned, the black cat interrupts. He'll go get some bones. Come prepare the temple.

With this explanation, which at least had the merit of being brief and direct, Narinder hurriedly leaves the premises, heading towards the temple where sermons and rituals of all kinds usually take place. Seeing his confused follower, the Lamb takes his hands, having this time obtained his permission, and takes some time to explain things in a little more detail.

A resurrection is to take place very soon. It is a very resource-intensive ritual, and one that promised to be very complicated; therefore, everything must be ready to welcome this new member into the community after their stay on the other side.
This involved preparing the temple, which occasionally served as a place of celebration. As this risked causing unrest, the guide and his assistant had chosen to wait until the end of the day to take charge of it. However, the bones are running low, so the Lamb had to leave on an expedition and leave this task to Narinder. The latter would have asked for help, and Nao was a trusted enough follower that the choice fell on him.

It's a privilege, an opportunity. The idea of ​​doing it wrong still scares him as much as usual, but the joy of having been selected to prepare such an important event enchants him. Filled with gratitude and eager to decorate the temple, he thanks the crowned head with a vigorous handshake, then puts away a last roll of cotton before running to join the assistant at the temple.

Saying the atmosphere is icy would be an insult to the very idea of ​​euphemism.

The silence is palpable to the point of having developed a taste—for Nao, the taste of saliva, which he struggles to swallow with his throat tight with stress. The atmosphere is harsh, almost as if a tragedy had just occurred in the room.
The follower arranges immaculate white candles on golden candlesticks, trying to distract himself with every little detail of the decor, but nothing works: since he's been there, neither the assistant nor he have said a single word. He doesn't know if this is a quiet moment or a deep malaise from which he needs to emerge, but either way, he's anything but at ease, and he's convinced it's evident from his head to his toes.

He can't risk speaking, for he knows not what to talk about, nor how much. There's bound to be a limit, since there always is, and this time he doesn't know it. If he goes too far, it could well cost him the privilege of being here making the preparations, and he'd hate to bother as well as disappoint.
Playing it safe, he simply chooses the best location for each ornament taken from the crate entrusted to him. Arrange everything in such a way as to balance the colors and arrangements, creating a scene suitable for such a ritual. Although it requires some thought, it's not very complicated. The leader and some followers have already complimented him about this : his sense of aesthetics is relatively good. The real challenge lies a few steps away from him, a gold-lacquered skull in the palm of his hands, looking thoughtful and very calm.

Narinder has always intimidated him. Even outside of this community, he's never encountered anyone as intimidating—Leshy is too, but less so and in a completely different way. That voice, now etched in the yellow cat's mind, is usually conspicuous by its absence: in the presence of other followers, he never speaks unless something is bothering him. Curiously enough, that something is often either the Lamb or a follower who's a little too close. He's a bit more sociable than Leshy, but he still seems to want to avoid mingling with the rest of the community. Is it shame, contempt, or some other feeling? No one knows.
Blessed with a certain charisma, he manages to maintain order despite this, preventing the rebels from gathering force and ensuring the smooth running of the community. However, he doesn't escape the followers' discussions, becoming the subject of much conversation: why refuse to talk with them? What are his real hobbies? Why is he always on the Lamb's heels? So many questions, the answers to which are only theories without any real basis.

What the yellow cat doesn't know is that this deep unease is shared by Narinder; the latter, however, hides it much better than his fellow cat. He lets out a long, heavy sigh, as if trying to banish it from his body—unfortunately, in vain—and places the skull he was holding on a column.

The truth is that Narinder is far too ashamed of himself to mingle with others. Even in the present moment, with only the cult's most understanding follower for company, he doesn't dare break the ice. Yet the will is there, that's not the problem; how can he appear friendly without rushing him?

Especially since, beyond simple conversation about the weather or such, he has questions to ask him, and his curiosity is growing strong. The Lamb has rubbed off on him, and now he, too, finds himself watching Nao's every move. Deep down, he can't help but ask himself the same question over and over again: what could have captured his younger brother's attention?

To find out, he has to get the conversation started, so he decides to try a simple topic.

- So, you-

He had barely begun to speak when Nao jumped. Nao hadn't expected this, and turned abruptly towards his surprised interlocutor, his eyes wide. In an attempt to calm him down, he tried to soften his voice.

- You... like it here? he asks hesitantly. I mean, are you happy in this place ?

- Y-yes, very much so, his companion replied in exactly the same tone, relaxing his posture. I'm very grateful to you and to our guide.

- And have you made any friends? Without the Lamb forcing you, I mean.

- I- let's just say I'm trying. Sorry.

Nao walks to the altar where the speeches are being delivered, his face tense, and places two final candles almost perfectly symmetrically on either side. He can't possibly tell Lord Narinder how hard it is for him to get along with others! No, he has to keep up appearances, once again. It doesn't matter. It never has.
Impressed by the thoughtfulness of the decoration but unsure how to bestow this compliment, the black cat simply applauds and congratulates him briefly, something that at least has the effect of putting a smile back on his face.

The first attempt worked. He then decides, a little more confident, to try another approach in the hopes that it would serve as a transition.

- Tell me, Nao, if that is your name.

- Yes? the latter replies, turning toward the altar to carefully arrange his appearance.

- I was wondering, where are you from, exactly?

But Narinder receives no response. Thinking the follower was thinking, he waited, and waited, but nothing came. He then glanced at Nao; the yellow one was completely frozen in place, trembling all over without making any real movement.

This was probably a sensitive topic. Since the assistant had never really paid attention to the followers' stories, he knew nothing about them—in any case, he never had the desire or the need to. However, this time, he feels he has made a mistake and immediately feels guilty.

- You don't have to tell me, he states, hoping to fix all this. I was just curious. Forget it.

- Sor- I mean...

Just about to apologize, the yellow cat seems to suddenly recover. He makes a sudden, drastic change in attitude, sitting up straight and clearing his throat.

- I understand, he mumbles, adjusting the altar cloth. I hold no grudge towards you, my lord.

And again, silence falls on them—but Narinder can't bring himself to accept it, he who was doing so well before asking that damned question.
The Lamb hasn't mentioned anything about the confidentiality of this ritual, at least not to Nao. Perhaps he can afford to talk about it, at least a little.
Nao picks up his now-empty box of decorations and walks over to place it at the entrance. He's now right next to Narinder.

- You're not comfortable around people, am I right? the black cat asks.

- No, I'm not. I work on it every day, I swear on my life.

- No need to swear, I understand. I just wanted to let you know that we have a rather... important sermon planned for tomorrow evening. Don't feel forced to come if you don't want to.

Usually, followers are rarely notified of sermons; they happen almost daily, so people expect them, and an announcement isn't necessary. If Narinder bothers to notify someone, especially in person, it's probably because something special will happen. Between this, the absurdly large stock of fabrics, and the elaborate decorations of the temple, Nao begins to understand what will unfold during the upcoming evening : this resurrection is hiding something else.

He could be wrong, but his theory seems sound. However, something else catches his attention: the kindness shown by the black cat. There seems to be no reason for this, but it takes the time to converse with him, displays a patience rarely seen in him, and warns him about the next sermon. Could something be going on? Something other than a simple ritual, even such as a ressurection ?

Unless the problem is, precisely, this ritual being prepared?

The Lamb only sacrifices those who offer themselves—most often elderly people who do not want to live out their final days in such a weak body. Thus, this ritual is legendary in its rarity, and the people offered as sacrifices are chosen with care. It is therefore unlikely that a sacrifice will take place tomorrow, and even less likely that Nao will be the offering.

The warning isn't about the ritual, even if there will be one. Would it only be for the crowd that will attend the sermon? It seems likely, and yet Narinder has no reason to worry about it, on the surface... Perhaps, even if it seems abnormal, it really is just an act of kindness.

- Sire Narinder, if you will allow me... Although I am grateful again, why inform me of this?

- Well, it will be a special sermon, so everyone is invited. If you don't like the crowd, you'll be bothered.

- I understand that, but-

- Stop thinking about it. If you need permission to relax, then consider my invitation as such.

On the one hand, surprise prevents Nao from finding an appropriate response. On the other, Narinder turns away from him, suddenly grasping the magnitude of his gesture and unable to accept it. It's not as hard for him right now as it is on a daily basis for his interlocutor, but he still struggles to have real discussions with others, and it's important to him not to rush in the least. Yet, he can't help but feel that he's just done the opposite.

He's sincere. The entire community will attend the sermon the next day. He will be sent by the Lamb to deliver the news to those who are absent. He can very well pay Nao a visit. Moreover, he hasn't forgotten his motivation, his reason for acting and continuing to coexist with the others...

- Nao, you deserve to feel better, he affirms, just loud enough for the yellow cat to hear. You... Ugh, how can I explain...

Finding the right words is, for Narinder, a complex but also, and above all, painful task. If he just blurts it out like he usually does, he risks making the same mistakes again and again—which is why he usually restricts himself as much as possible. He doesn't want to waste all the efforts he's made so far, especially in such simple circumstances.

- I know I, well, I'm not the best person to say such things, he admits. But if the Lamb accepted you here, it's for a good reason.

- They... They saved my life... the other cat confesses. They saved my life when I was still surviving outside.

- Like many people here. Is that why you refuse to talk about your origins?

After a long moment of hesitation, Nao nods a quick, timid "yes."
The assistant approaches him. Remembering his usurper's methods for building trust, he extends his arm to offer a handshake. The yellow cat is once again very surprised but, honored by the offer he wouldn't have even dared to imagine, joins his own hand in it as if by reflex—however, and still as intimidated as before, his gaze remains fixed on their joined hands. Satisfied, Narinder gives a broad smile and shakes his hand with a firm grip, as if he were just an old friend who hadn't heard from him in months. This handshake testifies to an honest exchange, and to their shared iron will.

- I guess you've been told this before, but let me say it again, announces the black feline, a proud smile on his face. You deserve to get better, and everyone here, without a single exception, deserves to get better.

Chapter Text

The fields are a part of the camp that is always both calm and bustling somehow. It must be said that it's a place where a host of diverse tasks mingle: sorting crops, planning the next harvest, arranging fertilizer, planting and watering seeds... There's always something to do to ensure everyone has enough to fill their plates, to get medical care, and, for some, to drown their troubles in fermented fruit after a long day. This at least has the merit of nourishing the followers' daily lives, even if it's only for basic needs.

It is this type of mission that Leshy has been entrusted with for this morning. The soil must be kept as loose as possible, and the field must be enlarged to plant more camellias, avoiding future stock shortages. At least, these are the reasons given by the Lamb to force the worm to work in this area - from the mouth of the guide seem to come only pretexts, each more obvious and pathetic than the last, having the sole purpose of keeping Leshy distracted. What frustrates the latter the most, more and more lately, is not knowing what he should be distracted from, and he would be ready to stay here all day until someone deigns to explain everything to him.

Unfortunately, lacking even a clue about any of this, he has no choice but to carry out the tasks assigned to him; in the frustration of obedience, he arms himself with a shovel provided for the farmers.
He stabs it right into the border of the field, unable to dig with his hands, something his colleagues have complained about, claiming it would send dirt everywhere. Proud of himself, he digs a huge pile of soil from the ground and nonchalantly tosses it aside before another farmer calls out to him.

- Hey, watch it, this isn't the place! she shouts, grabbing his shoulder. That's the grapes, over there!

- Ah. In that case, I'll just fill the hole and start again, he says, firmly swatting her hand away.

- No way, I swear, you could be more careful. Are you blind or what?

Both annoyed and amused, Leshy doesn't reply; instead, without his face moving a single bit, he points to his bandage as if it were obvious that she'd be the only one who hadn't noticed. The farmer, realizing her remark was more than inappropriate, covers her mouth reflexively.

- Oh- I didn't know that-

- Oh, you didn't know? Let me guess, you didn't see it ! Don't worry, we have all been there.

Slightly humiliated, the farmer can't think of a retort to send him—not only is he right, but she must admit he's come up with an argument she can't argue with right now. So she simply looks away and returns to her harvest as if nothing had happened, while two other followers, who were supposed to be planting vegetables, applaud Leshy's repartee. It is surprisingly successful. He would prefer not to have to deal with other people like this, but oh well, at least he was prepared for it when the Lamb sent him here. What annoys him, however, is that he hasn't even been able to tell her the truth of his thoughts, as he usually does with show-offs like this—putting braggarts in their place is the best thing, but today it's impossible for him. 
For good reason: a few meters away, Narinder is monitoring the field with a third, seasoned eye. Missioned to coordinate the many followers working there that day, in reality, he is essentially ensuring the absence of discord, for the benefit of their productivity - once again, the instructions of the Lamb, whom he follows almost blindly. Moreover, the former god of chaos can already hear his brother repressing the adept who failed to notice the obvious things. Although he tries to be discreet by speaking as little as possible, all other chatter stops when he speaks, people hang on his every word and drink in his rare words as if each and every single one is blessed. One wonders if he is not the true guide idolized by all, rather than the Lamb.

The mossy worm drops his shovel to one side—anyway, his hands are more precise and efficient, which is probably why the Lamb sent him here in the first place. He bends down to the dirt he has dug and grabs a large handful, rubbing it with his fingers to examine it. It crumbles easily, has almost no moisture; it could be mistaken for sand. The few fibers it contains seem to come from the grass that had grown on the surface, a grass that gives off no scent. In short, it's not very fertile soil; if camellias grow there, they'll wilt within a few days, and they're not the kind of flowers you should put in a bouquet.

No, a remedy. These are flowers for remedies. These flowers will have a medicinal purpose. Medicinal. Not aesthetic.

Before he can ramble on, Leshy fills in the hole he's made with a few kicks, too stressed to work more carefully, then smooths it all out by walking over it—it's not as if he's ruining any plants by doing this, since this soil is only good for weeds. The powdery texture of the dirt is truly strange and unusual for a field. It's the kind that easily soils certain fabrics, which gives Leshy a somewhat sly idea. Holding back a smile to maintain the element of surprise, he grabs another large handful of earth, then turns abruptly and arches his arm.

- Catch ! he screams, throwing his ball of dirt.

Ejected with a powerful gesture, it travels its trajectory at a speed rarely seen before, so much so that no one has time to react; the ball ends up crashing into someone, and Leshy celebrates his successful throw with a hearty laugh. Clearly excited by this challenge, another follower, whom the worm doesn't identify, throws a ball at him as well, this time landing on his arm. The worm then grins broadly: a little fun, finally!

Throwing the first thing they could get their hands on was one of Leshy's favorite games when he joined his siblings and Heket took over raising him. Most often, they made bets, such as "the one who's the dirtiest at the end must make a dessert for the loser" or "the one who throws the shortest distance must clean everything up before Shamura notices." Although ungenteel, it was a game that occupied many of their days when they weren't spent training and being educated.
Convincing the rest of the bishops to participate in this game, however, proved to be a different matter: Shamura always had their head in their bishop duties, Kallamar categorically refused to get dirty no matter the cost, and Narinder...
Actually, Narinder has always been a very bad loser.

Other balls, smaller ones, begin to fly across the field in various directions; it's clearly a game that the others enjoy, to the point of starting a dirt battle that quickly attracts almost all the farmers. Apart from a few followers who simply dodge, everyone seems to find it funny. The worm is more than happy to bring a bit of excitement, and proud of his idea; he leans towards his pile, forms a ball larger than the previous one, prepares to pulverize it at his neighbor, and... gets hit in the face by a large pile of dirt, hard enough to make him take a step back, then lose his balance and fall backward.

Curiously, the flight of dirt balls has completely stopped. The chatter and laughter also stopped, replacing the festive and joyful atmosphere with an almost morbid one, as if the followers were shocked by what had just happened to the point of being speechless.

Heavy footsteps stir the ground, and soon, two hands come to grab Leshy by the shoulders to help him up—however, he violently rejects this help and stands up in one go, shaking off the dirt that covered him.

- To think you were mingling with the others for once, he says to the black cat with his usual sarcasm, I expected more fairness from you!

- Dig.

- That's what I'm doing, you idiot.

- No. You're wasting dirt.

- And you're wasting my time.

- I might as well give you some by locking you up. Dig.

Clearly, Narinder still can't stomach defeat. Refusing once again to admit his wrongdoings, he returns to his post, ordering the stunned followers to do the same. Soon, no one is having fun anymore, and everyone is back to their original tasks. Not wanting to end on such an annoying note, Leshy grabs a large handful of dirt, certain he could do better than the black cat. Enthusiastic, he forms it into a sphere and begins smoothing it with his fingertips, already imagining it crashing right into his third eye, forcing him to rush to the fountain to rinse it off.

There was indeed one time when Narinder played with them. With Shamura ill, Kallamar at their bedside while managing his affairs for the both of them, someone had to look after two little monsters in search of fun. The cat had no choice but to watch over them and, quickly, take part in their childish antics; the problem was that his physical strength was far superior, and his ego even more so. He gave it his all, with the sole aim not of entertaining them but of impressing them. Whatever the game, it quickly took on a competitive aspect, from which the cat most often emerged victorious. Most often.

Heket had suggested a dirt fight that day, as they had a huge pile available that was neither suitable for growing crops nor for composting. Leshy was eager to participate and beat his brother at last, who once again had been forced to accept. At first, he simply dodged, but realizing he couldn't simply remain passive against two burning balls of energy, he decided to fight back. His dirt balls were lighter, therefore faster, and he threw them much harder. He won, again and again, to the point where he truly enjoyed this game, which seemed childish to him at first.

They played it again and again. Leshy improved his dodges, Heket her throws, and Narinder in everything. He was becoming unbeatable, but in the eyes of his younger siblings, it didn't matter. However, hoping to prove his omnipotence, the cat one day grabbed a thicker ball of dirt and threw it at Leshy.

And there was blood, lots of blood, flowing everywhere.

Not to mention the screams. Piercing screams in every direction.

A long time, far too long, wondering what to do.

A brother begging his elders and younger siblings while cursing them with all the names in the book.

And he couldn't see a thing.

He couldn't see a single thing.

Disturbed by these memories, Leshy slaps himself and came to his senses. It's never pleasant for him to be reminded of these things, no matter how much he tries to resist the indifference. Silently, he places a hand on the now-remade patch of the field, grabs the shovel, and begins to look for a more fertile spot. He has to, in order to grow beautiful camellias.

Digging a field truly hollows the stomach. Fortunately, when the followers concentrate fully on their tasks, time seems to pass more quickly; thus, the kitchen bells announce the long-awaited lunch time.

In the queue, Leshy wonders where he can sit for lunch. After the altercation with Narinder, he doesn't want to run into anyone. The bishops' shelter will definitely be occupied, unless Heket postpones her meals again. He then thinks back to the somewhat isolated tree where Nao had taken him to enjoy the sun: it's rather quiet, so why not. Actually, no, it's not such a good idea. After all, Nao might be there.

On second thought, doesn't he want to see Nao? He's one of the few people who doesn't exhaust him; on the contrary, he's almost invigorating. The few times they've eaten together are rather pleasant memories. He remembers the softness of the sun's rays. It was a very pleasant warmth. A good setting for a good meal.
It's decided. He will invite the cat to lunch with him— it takes turns making the first move, after all.

He spots the feline's scent, not far down the line, and quickly decides to approach it, even if it means bumping into a few people.

- Hey, Nao! he calls out, waving his arms in the air to be spotted. Nao, can you see me?!

No response, strange. He then moves forward, in the direction from which he vaguely smelled her scent, but once there, the said scent suddenly vanishes. It's as if Nao had disappeared from one second to the next. Thinking he'd been dreaming, Leshy realizes the scent has simply moved; he then begins to follow her, continuing to call out to his apprentice.

However, no matter how much he waves his arms in all directions and shouts the cat's name, he can't catch him. Could it be someone whose scent is identical? Impossible. Everyone has a distinctive scent. Apart from a parent or a child, or two people sharing the same blood in general, everyone has their own scent that is part of their identity. It's indeed Nao's identity that the worm has spotted, yet despite the efforts, it can't find him. Perhaps his sense of smell is failing him, so he decides to rely on his own hearing and listen, hoping to hear his apprentice's voice.

Just when he thinks he's hearing something, it's interrupted by the sound of a bell. It's not the one in the kitchen; this one is higher-pitched and rings more rapidly—someone is shaking it as they walk. It gets closer, quickly followed by a much louder voice; clearly, it's an announcer.

- Attention! Attention, please!

The food service stops, and the queue stops moving. All attention is given to the messenger, a certain Nomeron, according to whispers. It's this bat, the firstborn of the cult and first disciple, who most often makes the announcements. A little annoyed at being interrupted, Leshy thinks it must still be important, and listens as well.

- A sermon will be held at the temple tonight at dusk, the disciple explains. We are all required to attend, please.

- Do we know why the sermon will be held so late? asks a follower at the back of the line.

- Unfortunately, I don't know any more than you do, declares Nomeron. I do know, however, that it's about something important for our community. Try to come if possible, or the news will be passed on to you.

Without giving further details, Nomeron finally leaves them, continuing to ring his bell to convey the announcement to the rest of the followers. The former god of chaos can't help but feel curious: sermons are usually just a formality, so why send a disciple to ensure as many people as possible attend? This important thing, which is supposed to be the subject, promises to be at least somewhat interesting. At the very least, if it isn't, he'll be very disappointed.

Without taking the time to chat with the cooks, Leshy arrives to be served, takes his bowl, and heads off to the bishops shelter to laze away the rest of the afternoon. In any case, he's in no mood to sunbathe alone, and he can put up with his sister from time to time.

He's almost late, but that doesn't matter; it's not as if he's received a personal invitation. This temple disgusts him. It inspires only bad things in him, and the more he looks at it from the outside, the more he tries to avoid it. However, it's too late, because now he's inside, waiting for the sermon announced a few hours earlier, which is about to take place.

The crowd is quite thick, as if no one is absent—something Nomeron nevertheless checks as he walks through the ranks, shaking hands with some, kissing others on the cheek. When Leshy recognizes his voice near him, he steps back; no kiss, no handshake, just formal greetings, and the worm tells him to leave him alone.

The followers are tense. Whispers fly in all directions, giving no concrete information about the sermon, but theories seem to be forming.

- Hey, do you think we're going to have a bonfire? someone wonders not far from the worm. Like, a huge bonfire to celebrate some news?

- No, it's a joyful ritual, her friend says. I don't think we'd celebrate in an atmosphere like this.

- It's true that the leader doesn't look so great... But if it's not a celebration, why making the info going around ?

Many other followers talk about the bearer of the red crown, using him as a prop for their theories: a series of rituals? Sacrifice? Group expeditions? Major architectural change? Nothing seems capable of putting the crown bearer in such a state.

What Leshy can't see is indeed the guide, on the platform behind the altar.

The latter is, as some members of the group claim, particularly stressed. Although they've planned this moment for a long time, and planned everything from start to finish, bringing this part of their project to fruition strains them like few things do.

Trying to reassure themselves, they pretends to leaf through their spellbook, where they've taken a few notes to make sure they don't say a single word out of place. They're not risking much in their position, but prefers to be as cautious as possible. Realizing the futility of their gesture, since all they have to do is read, they very delicately remove their crown with both hands and takes a minute to look at it. This crown should never have belonged to them. Yet, they're the one using it. They're the one claiming to change everything for the benefit of the people.

Is he doing the right thing? Is he on the right track with his project? Is this the right way to bring peace, as he promised to all his followers? Although this project is close to his heart, what he is about to do makes him feel the weight of his actions: this is it, his ambitions are beginning to become reality. Tonight's sermon is a major step in everything he is trying to build. Tonight, he announces to all his followers what he is capable of, without the others even realizing it.

Speaking of the followers, the noise intensifies. The Lamb signals to their disciple to ring his bell to announce the beginning of the sermon; Nomeron, faithful to his post, places himself in the center of the crowd and complies, waving his said bell energetically. However, it doesn't work: a few heads turn, but the group doesn't harmonize.

Narinder witnesses this scene, alongside the Lamb. Lacking such patience, he takes a deep breath, and suddenly, when no one expects it:

- SILENCE !

A scream. A word. An announcement, echoing through the room. Followers surprised but in complete admiration—with the exception of a certain sibling group who lets out groans of annoyance, or feels their whole body suddenly tremble at the sound of that deep voice.
And suddenly, just as suddenly as this shout, there is a complete silence. Narinder's charisma, at least, has followed him out of captivity. Just as in the fields, people seem to obey him to the letter.

Now, all eyes are on the guide and his assistant. The Lamb, pleased to at least be able to make a start, breathes a sigh of relief before handing over his crown.

- My friends, I welcome each and every one of you, he announces. I am delighted to see so many people have been able to come this evening; you all have my deepest gratitude for that.

"Get done with it already" Leshy thinks, already beginning to feel bored. He came for entertainment; he'll leave when he gets it, nothing more, nothing less. All these polite expressions are, from his perspective, rather hypocritical coming from the guide.

- I have gathered you together because I have something big planned, he continues, which you must be aware of since it regards our community and its harmony. We will perform several rituals this evening to finish preparing the camp in preparation for this event, which is finally coming to fruition. I am going to present to you a list of the rituals in question, I am counting on your attention, everyone.

The Lamb then plunges into the list of rituals to be performed—the whispers return, and most theories are quickly disproved. No bonfire, no collective use of drugs, not even a sacrifice as some have imagined: nothing spectacular or dangerous, these are simply short, sparse rituals intended to provide more resources for the next few days, and Leshy is about to leave with only his disappointment as a reward.

However, once the list is completely read, the Lamb resumes with a very serious expression, adjusting their attire as if to ensure a minimum of presence.

- I understand that this strange series of rituals so suddenly may intrigue you, they explain, extending their arms towards their audience, especially since I've been making you work harder lately for the same purpose. Once again, I thank you for your unwavering devotion, your commitment to our faith, our community union, and our ever-growing Age of Peace. I will not delay anymore the reveal of the main reason for this sermon. Some, given the current context, may have understood its nature.

The tension this time is with the audience. Some are eager, others fearful, and Leshy himself feels this tension rising within him. What could possibly be happening tonight that requires such a staging?

The answer, as the Lamb had promised, is not long in coming.

- My friends. During this night, a special resurrection will take place.

Chapter Text

- My friends. During this night, a special resurrection will take place.

A resurrection? That answers the big question while raising a huge load of others. If some people's theory ruled out a resurrection, it is now contradicted, since these words come from the Lamb themself.

That is the one and only it takes for chatter to break out again, fueled by the general shock. The followers are more than astonished, and Leshy himself is very surprised by this news, which goes beyond the strange for him. A resurrection? But for whom, and why, and above all, why make such a big deal about it when you possess the crown of the one who represents death? A resurrection should be a simple ritual in the hands of such a being—at the time when Narinder still reigned, they were almost routine. For such an insignificant action for a being of their rank to take such a place in the collective mind, it is probably because the future resurrected person themself belongs to an important rank, or possessed during their lifetime an immense power useful to the Lamb.

There are a whole host of "powers" that could increase the leader's strength—though he no longer needs them at this point. Yet, none seem to stand out; abundant resources, eternal good health, peace and harmony... Nothing. Nothing seems enough. As if they want more and more for their age of peace or gods know what. It's far too strange. The secrecy is starting to get on the worm's nerves, even more than usual, as he remains convinced that others have the information but are very careful not to share it with him. Next time, he'll refuse the expedition, he'll refuse to eat alone, and he'll refuse walks with Nao—tonight or tomorrow, nothing and no one will stop him from finally knowing what's been going on behind his back for weeks and weeks. He deserves to know.

Without any real transition, which doesn't help calm things down, the series of rituals finally begins. Thoughtful about what he could possibly do, the worm's mind was elsewhere the entire time. He, who usually stays in the background, finds himself participating as much as the others without really trying to understand why. This doesn't seem to bother any of the followers; they're too busy carrying out these rituals as if it could bring them anything or guarantee the smooth running of things. It's not what he wants to understand, what's going on in the minds of the plebs, anyway. He wants to go back to his shelter. He wants to talk to his brother and sister. He wants to know if they too are as lost as he is. Not knowing is so, so frustrating. Knowledge doesn't make a sound. Knowledge isn't tangible, it has no texture. Knowledge, sometimes, can be seen, read, admired.

A knowledge, as of then, beyond Leshy's reach.
Crap.

He scratches the back of his head. He should not be thinking about this. He will go to bed in a bad mood, sleep poorly, and have a bad day after waking up from a terrible slumber. He doesn't even know if he'll be welcome at this curious event. Why would he be invited in person, anyway? He hasn't accomplished anything special for the community. Neither have his brother and sister. Although, in fact, yes, his brother guarantees the collective health and his sister cooks. He's just caught some fish, dug a little dirt, and entertained the children. Actually, he's thinking about trivial things. It's not the kind of triviality that makes him feel good. The trivialities he prefers are flowers, pretty camellias that he would spend all day chewing.

The light from the temple candles begins to fade; fortunately, the rituals are ending, but unfortunately, despite an audience eager to get to bed, the Lamb still seems to have things to say. He clears his throat to get their attention, and this time Narinder doesn't need to make himself heard: instead, he's watching them, observing as he always has, and that seems to be enough to keep them stead in place.

- Thank you, thank you! Thank you all so, very much ! claims the guide, a beaming smile of pride on his face. Now that we've been able to prepare our camp as best we can for this arrival, I owe you some information regarding the arrangements that will govern your lifestyle until tomorrow. You see, unfortunately, I can only invite a few of the people here.

Another collective shock. Leshy might think that these followers are definitely simple-minded; except that this time, he's as surprised as the rest of the group, plunged into a state of incomprehension that makes him scratch his arms more and more frantically. Normally, despite the simplicity of the thing for beings like him, this kind of ritual is organized with as many people as possible—bringing someone back to life is something to celebrate. Yet, a handful of people will be invited. Only a handful. Probably chosen according to very specific criteria. This isn't normal. None of this is normal." None of this is happening the way it should.

Who will be resurrected?

Why is this person being brought back to life?

The former god of chaos is only half-listening to what's being announced in the temple; too bad, his brother will tell him everything.

A resurrection, but not at the temple. It will take place at the summoning circle. With very few people, therefore. The followers must remain in their shelters until they receive a visit from the Lamb or his assistant. No one other than these two may invite guests, not even a disciple. No one can come to the resurrection except the guests and themselves. If someone tries to come uninvited or invites another person without the Lamb's or Narinder's permission, that person will be forced to clean the outhouses all week, all day long. As if cleaning toilets would make them regret something so simple. Everything is simple for them, of course. They are simple. Simple in mind. Simple in constitution.

The followers who are not invited must remain in their shelters until lunch, which will also be distributed by the guide and the black cat. They will not be able to leave their shelters until after that. What dish could possibly be on the menu, if something special is being served? Who is going to cook? Surely the Lamb. Not Narinder. Especially not him. Even though he was a pretty good cook once upon a time. Everyone is going to get sick if he's the one cooking.

Leshy will have to spend the night waiting.

Waiting for someone to remember he's there.

Waiting for someone to finally deign to explain what's going on. Nao, perhaps? No, there's no reason he would know anything. Anyway, he'd been nowhere to be found all day.

The explanations end, the usual greetings as well, and the followers rush outside— sleep, at last ! At least, if they can manage to sleep while waiting for the big moment, because everyone is now overexcited at the thought of learning who will be brought back among the living. Oddly enough, no one seems to have the slightest idea; there are far fewer theories than at the beginning.
Leshy tilts his head up once outside, almost by reflex. Now he faces the clearing sky, a deep, dark blue that could bring darkness to the camp, but instead it is decorated with a multitude of dots of light, beautiful stars piercing this celestial drape, illuminating the night to remind those still standing that it is not just a veil of shadow. Some claim to be able to read people's destiny in these stars, but the worm never believed it, even when he still had his crown.

How can one admire the night sky? He's never tried to touch it, and today he can't. It has no particular smell. However, the night air is fresher. It blows slightly harder, yet retains its characteristic softness. Perhaps it's possible to read the wind.

Anyway, he will never be able to read.
He never believed in destiny. Only in power. At least that has proven itself.

- ... and so, I had to throw him out again, but he came back the next day, and the day after that, Kallamar complained to his brother and sister, re-bandaging the latter's bandages. I won't repeat the story; you're beginning to understand their habits as well as I do. At least they brings me back useful mushrooms, but I could very well ask Saleos or Haborym to go pick some! I swear, if he dares soil the little ones' hammock with those damn mushrooms, I'll amputate the one growing on his head without anesthesia. Oh, how good it feels to have the company of normal people, every once in a while...

Bishops shelter. No one can get to sleep, the big news having shaken them somewhat. They, who are not easily impressed, are stuck in a heavy atmosphere uncomfortable for everyone. The bar is closed, the kitchens are empty. At times like these, all they can do is chat; not very exciting, but better than nothing.
Well, here, chatting is a bit of an overstatement: for almost an hour by now, Kallamar has been complaining, again and again, about someone who visits him almost daily to try to distribute narcotics to his patients. Apparently, this guy refuses to stop despite the threats and reprimands of the doctor, as well as his nurses. The said doctor is therefore taking advantage of this evening to rant without even taking the slightest break.

Something's alerting Leshy. His brother is... quite talkative, today. He always has been, of course, but tonight he's even more so than usual. As for Heket, she's perfectly calm during her treatment, even though she normally doesn't let anyone near her throat, barely tolerating the care, and only from her older brother.
Why isn't anyone behaving like usual?

Too tired from today's sermon to pretend any longer, the worm snaps; so much for formalities, let them burn, he wants to know.
Unfortunately, he's quickly overtaken by his brother, who finishes treating their sister and gets up to go take care of the sleeping arrangements in the shelter.

- Speaking of which, Leshy, Kallamar says cheerfully, I've noticed someone hanging around you a lot lately! Come on, tell us all, you managed to steal a follower from the Lamb, didn't you?

The question makes Heket snort. Apparently, she has her own answer, and the implication of that laughter doesn't delight Leshy, quite the opposite. He knows that, given the chance, she'll spout all sorts of nonsense about the cat. Sitting cross-legged beside the frog, eager to deny the rumor before it sees the light of day, he rests his head on his arm, trying to look nonchalant.

- It's more complicated than you're making it sound, he explains, doing his best to remain calm. I told him I could teach him things, and since then, he's been following me everywhere. There's nothing special about it.

Truth is, it's mostly the worm following the yellow cat, not the other way around. He's still struggling to understand what makes him "special" and is dying to ask the question more honestly. However, admitting it now would be a huge blow to his dignity.
Maybe another time.

- The flowers, whispers Heket, just loud enough for her two brothers to hear, for Nao--

- Yes, I gave him flowers, but it was only to impress him! the younger brother disputes. Thanks to that, he got a glimpse of the extent of my superiority, as well as my sense of good taste. There's no doubt he thinks more of me now, thanks to this gift. And besides, you used to do it with your own followers before-- well, you get the idea! Besides, he started it by giving me that damn camellia.

The same camellia he was given the day that steak went up in smoke, both literally and figuratively; but then again, the detailed truth would mean sacrificing part of his ego, so he keeps quiet.

- Leshy, I beg of thee, I've rarely seen someone so lacking in credibility, Kallamar asserts, his mannered words half-muffled in his own bed sheets. When my followers wanted to impress me, they would engage in grand sacrificial ceremonies or make me grand offerings of rare crystals... It was beautiful and complex, to pay homage to my splendor, you understand? But those who wanted me, in every sense of the word, literally gave all of themselves body and soul! Not that I should make an offering of myself to the first person who came along, though. Offering flowers is far too conventional, far too average, you deserve much better--

- Well, back in DarkWood, I was sometimes given offerings of carefully chosen flowers in equally carefully chosen places, yet not only am I not a boaster like you, but I also had the decency to commission my sacrifices myself! I'm just happy that someone here recognizes my worth without what was stolen from me! I'll have you believe that camellias are a very nice gift.

- He is kind, Heket murmurs, to form sentences without straining her throat. Unlike us...

Kallamar finishes folding his blanket and sits down next to his siblings. They are now sitting in a pretty bizarre circle.
Ironically, Heket seems to only tell the truth, the few times she manages to express herself clearly—except when she's talking nonsense about Nao. Here, it is not. The unease has returned, but at least it's still more pleasant than shouting. Some people here have learned to savor silence and what it represents.

- Hey, it's really weird that the resurrection isn't taking place at the temple, the former god of chaos says, without much hope of a response. Do you know who's going to be resurrected by tomorrow?

Expecting the usual rejection, Leshy instead witnesses a truly, truly poorly acted scene: Heket stops making a sound, as if she simply hadn't heard, and the truly deaf man in the room suddenly and violently coughs. Wriggling like a common fish out of water to escape without the grace he'd convinced himself he possessed during his reign, he rushes to the shelter's supply of drinking water to rehydrate his throat.

"They're worse actors than I am," the worm thinks to himself, though he also gives a small smirk. On the one hand, this isn't the most pleasant surprise for some reason, but on the other, he's very relieved to finally have the slightest clue.

- Would you happen to know, my noble and magnificent brother? the younger brother asks, not even hiding his rising enthusiasm behind his usual sense of humor. Could you be so kind as to letting me in on this?

- You-- I-- Did you have dinner today? Kallamar replies, struggling to string two words together.

- Yes, I had dinner, but I don't see the connection.

- Firstly, you don't see anything. Secondly, it's not your problem!

- "Firstly", screw you, as if I could forget what the other two living excrements inflicted on me! "Secondly," you made it my problem when you dodged my completely banal and unprompted question. Now answer me! I have the right to know!

- Your question, the older brother repeats disdainfully. Without any ulterior motive. Take me for a fool.

- I could gladly honor your request, once you answer my question! Why the hell are you dodging the subject?! Why do I feel like everyone is avoiding me?! Damn it, I'm no less intelligent or competent than any of you, I don't see why you're so hell-bent on keeping me out of all this, and this is starting to reach my a--

Someone knocks at the door, interrupting the beginning of the argument.
Even a simple moment of rage seems forbidden to Leshy. But it doesn't matter. He rarely has a choice, anyway, since he's been here. He just has to swallow his anger, as usual. Others know best. He can't know.
The sound repeats and echoes through the shelter, accompanied by the last voice the former bishops wanted to hear that evening.

- Good evening, my favorite sibling gang ! I have news for you, let me in there !

Heket sighs. Deep down, she knows her brothers will only exacerbate their own argument if they get involved, given the person on the other side. This is really, really not how she wants to end her evening. With steps heavy with fatigue, she gets up and sets about welcoming their nocturnal visitor, whose identity is no mystery.
A nearly fixated smile that fools no one, fluffy wool and a crown that makes his presence felt; then enters the Lamb, unabashed despite the context, greeting them with a brief wave.

- I feel a bit like I'm interrupting you guys, I hope I'm wrong! he declares, a hand on his chest. I  suppose you know why I'm here, after all.

- Logical, Heket says, looking away.

- Let's just say you've arrived at the right time, the younger brother affirms. I hope you came to tell me what's going on here, because these two don't seem to be cooperating and I'm sick of it.

- Well, actually, it's mainly for you that I came, the Lamb confesses with a hint of embarrassment. You're not stupid, you understand that if I'm here, it's because you're all invited to the resurrection tomorrow. I suppose you were expecting it, so there's no need to go through the formalities of speech. However, there's something I preferred to hide from Leshy to maintain general order, as you often react in the heat of the moment, and know that I'm sincerely sorry about that...

Leshy doesn't dare make any digs. He doesn't even want to; he's hanging after these confessions... The truth, finally, and it's really not a moment too soon.

However, why do Heket and Kallamar already seem to know? The Lamb says he only hid this truth from Leshy. Who else knew? Who else could have helped him and refused to do so?

The leader feels completely paralyzed for a few minutes.
The same feeling as at the temple.

Another milestone in the realization of his project.
One step closer to peace for all.

Yet, again tonight, he can't help but tell himself that this isn't good. That there must be a mistake somewhere. That this act he keeps staging, this Age of Peace he's so determined to build, is the biggest mistake of his life. If one can even call whatever this is, a life.
However, and he knows this better than anyone, he can't back down. In any case, he doesn't want to. So, with the little selfishness he allows himself, he continues to express himself to finally break free from what he's been hiding for these long weeks.

- The person we are welcoming tomorrow, announces the bearer of the red crown, is Shamura. Tomorrow, the four of you will be back together.

Outside, it's cool, just enough for the wind to be nothing more than a pleasant breeze caressing the growing crops. The sky has darkened a little more, but it's also been adorned with a host of other stars. Their light reflects off the gently flowing water of the fountain, creating a pleasant background sound to soothe the last of the insomniacs.

The bar's stocks are almost empty. Hops and grapes will have to be harvested if a drinking party is planned in the near future.

The kitchens are prepared for the next day. Ready-made meals are simply waiting to be heated.

The followers' shelters are calm, quiet, and peaceful.

With the exception of one collective shelter, ironically not far from the fountain.

The Lamb has just narrowly avoided a slap the likes of which he's rarely seen since his crown was bestowed upon him.
It comes from Leshy, seized with a mad rage and determined to make him understand.

The worm, not at all likely to calm down and growing even angrier after his failure, grabs the guide by both shoulders and begins to shake him violently, which would make even the most ordinary mortals puke.

- Do you ever happen to think, or have you put your own head back on your body all wrong?! he yells as if his brother were the only deaf person in the room. We all died! We all died one by one because we were together and we did stupid shit ! And you, with your so-called sane mind in your damn sane body, you want to bring us back together to do even more stupid things?! You want to repeat the tragedy, is that it?! You want us all to die over and over again, is that peace for you?! Peace is pissing people off?!

- Leshy-

- Shut up, Kal! You died too! Heket died too! I died too and ended up in purgatory like all of you! Look at the fucking state we're in today!

Leshy stops shaking the Lamb, but he's not free yet ; instead, he gets brutally slammed against the wall, and the worm doesn't stop screaming his heart out.

- Let's talk about this forsaken purgatory ! he continues, his anger showing no sign of abating. You saw the miserable state our bodies were in back there! You saw our blood and our guts dripping everywhere! You saw the state of our heads! Our heads, damn it! Kallamar no longer has ears, Heket can no longer speak to us clearly! And I am blind! What the hell do you think it'll be like for Shamura to live a life like this with his injuries?! What kind of state do you think Shamura will come back in?! You who care so much about peace, why didn't you just let us rest?! I'm blind, for fuck's sake ! You brought me back to life all for that! I don't even know the looks of the only guy I remotely enjoy the company of in this dead-end rathole !

- Heket, get him! Kallamar shouts from the other end of the shelter.

The worm iss so absorbed in its own deep, personal rage that he hadn't noticed Heket right behind him. It took a moment for her to grab him firmly, pinning his arms behind his back and lifting it just high enough so that his feet were off the ground. Being less muscular than his sister, he can now neither flee nor wriggle free from her forced grasp; yet, infuriated beyond belief, he wriggles like a slug, trying to wriggle free, still screaming, demanding that he be let go, that the usurper be given a good beating once and for all, that this whole thing is a very bad idea.

No one listens to him. Heket maintains her grip without flinching, while Kallamar rummages through the small emergency box, quickly removing something and holding it tightly in his palm. The Lamb moves away from the wall at a quick pace, making way for Kallamar, who positions himself squarely in front of Leshy.
Before the latter can even react, his brother's hand clings to his mouth, which is obviously wide open from his grumbling. He doesn't have time to close it, when a paste of a truly disgusting texture is found inside, but it slides effortlessly down his esophagus, forcing him to swallow it. Surprised by this detail and his brother's sudden gesture, he starts coughing, gradually catching his breath, but beginning to panic. Sensing his younger brother's mood and feeling his guilt rising, Kallamar gently approaches him and places his hands around his face.

- It's just a tranquilizer, okay? he states, close to tears, doing his best not to tense the muscles in his hands. You're just going to sleep for a short time. You are going to sleep in a few minutes, and wake up tomorrow morning, like usual. I promise you, I swear on everything I hold dear, that you're just going to sleep. I'm watching over you. I have an antidote just in case. You're just going to sleep, please trust me...

He's repeating his own words. He knows this medicine; after all, he's the one who developed it many years ago. He knows the safe dosages and definitely has an antidote in case the body reacts badly. Yet he repeats the same words over and over again. His brother isn't an idiot; telling him he's going to sleep once is more than enough. Yet Kallamar is still afraid of making a mistake. He made a mistake once, it cost them their lives, so why not twice?

Anyway, Leshy isn't listening to him anymore. He already feels himself sinking and is fighting to stop it.
However, instead of succeeding, he starts to relive. Not the present moment around him, but other things, a whole bunch of other things. A very large bunch. A bunch he doesn't want to deal with.

For example, the many, many arguments with Narinder. He, who made his oversized ego take the place of his family, ensured that at most of their family gatherings, they were only allowed a silent table.

The hours and hours of boring writing in the company of Shamura, who tracked every move of the other four so that their handwriting would finally improve—something that didn't happen for Kallamar, quite the contrary.

Kallamar, in particular, who did everything he could to teach his sense of decoration to others, sometimes forcing Leshy to visit his temple, which, according to his tastes at the time, was frankly ugly.

Heket's recipes, scribbled on a scrap of paper generously given by Shamura. What their family remembered most were the delicious dishes, as well as the culinary experiences that seemed so extravagant that they resembled sacrificial rituals.

The shades the sky took on on festive evenings, influenced by the lights of the fire and candles.

The plants his followers would find elsewhere to show off to him.

The tragedy. The blood. Nothing.

The dirt battles. He could still see. The dirt flew in all directions. He saw his sister laughing out loud. He could hear that laughter too. It was sincere and reflected her carefree attitude. But after the tragedy, nothing.

The decision. The chains. His brother's pleas, on their bed of insults.

The sending of the kittens. That mother's grief. She cried. But after the tragedy, nothing.

The passing of time and the crown that compensates. The crown that protects. The crown that replaces something that should never have been replaced.

The usurper. Purgatory.

The light of day. But after the tragedy, nothing.

No more sunsets. No more late-night reading.

Night walks. Time drags when you're alone, even at night. The night wind blows. It carries smells. Something has rotted in the fields. Or maybe someone has died, for a change.

A new arrival. A tight hug. Then a second one.

Then all of a suddent, actually, there are people. Lots of people. Too many people and they're unpleasant. They make noise. They stink of death. They're maybe even very ugly. But after the tragedy, nothing.
He doesn't like these people. He doesn't suffer from it. In any case, he doesn't want to like them.

The kitchens. A burning steak. He couldn't have known. Actually, he could have, but there was something flying. But after the tragedy, nothing.

Among the people, someone. A flower. A pleasant taste, unlike that of ashes.

The texture of the flowers.

The texture of the trees.

The softness of his hands. The softness of his gestures, too, always attentive.

The sound of a voice that, for once, doesn't displease him.

The last thing he remembers before falling asleep is something comforting, something he can search for all day long but whose importance he already denies.
A smell. A smell he appreciates very much, that he can smell every day.
The smell of a flower he knows well, his favorite flower.

- Nao... he says in a very low voice, before falling asleep for good.

He's breathing properly; he doesn't act as if he's under the influence of drugs. In fact, it's as if he hadn't taken anything, a sign to Kallamar that his medication is working.

Checking his brother's breathing and heartbeat one last time, the former bearer of the blue crown breathes a sigh of relief. His contingency plan, agreed upon with the Lamb, seems to be working—all that's left is for the next day, though. Concerned that he's sleeping properly, Heket gently takes him by the neck and hips, carries him to his bed, and goes over to hers to get an extra blanket to offer him.

The leader is also relieved that events are over, despite the turn they've taken.

This is precisely why I didn't want to include him in our charade, he announces, putting his fleece back on properly. Imagine his reaction if I had told him sooner...

- I still don't understand why we were allowed to know and he wasn't! Kallamar claims, putting away the emergency box. We were just as fearful of the outcome, but you still told us anyway. I-- I don't get it.

- Well, you are my only doctor, and you will be responsible for Shamura's first aid. Heket, for her part, will be very useful if our harvests fail in the coming days, and I could only think of her to inform me of any potential dietary restrictions. You both play a crucial role in any emergencies we might face after Shamura's return; I'm not going to reread the plan you helped write. As for Leshy..."

The Lamb, unable to relax, plays with the fabric of his fleece—put on over his clothes to ward off the night's chill.

- Leshy, he... He simply wouldn't have been ready. You told me so yourself. He's been far too tense, even since I brought you back to his side. I need all of you.

- '"You" need?' Heket asks, signing.

- Yes, I need it. Who said I was doing all this for you?

Silence. A sudden change in tone. From kindness to complete contempt.
A talent the Lamb practices daily with them. He's almost become predictable. Without even looking at them, he continues his speech in the same tone.

- You seem just as absent-minded as my predecessor, so I will allow myself the following reminder, the same one I gave him. Everything that is happening today, everything we have to endure, is solely and entirely your fault. It was your selfishness that killed those I loved, it was your selfishness that plunged us into terror. I've been through far too much, and I'm not alone in this case. I want to create a safe haven where this pain is no longer murderous, a place where justice is finally done and we live in harmony. Let me be clear: if I bring Shamura back tonight, if I bring you together, if I kept Narinder, it is purely and simply for my very own desires. It is my turn to be selfish, so feel humiliated, feel despised, you deserve nothing but this. Here, you have the opportunity to repent. I won't forgive you, but perhaps you can at least repair the consequences of your mistakes.

He wants to sound threatening, yet tears are beginning to well up in his eyes. While he's perfectly capable of delivering this kind of speech in front of Narinder, for others, it's immediately more complicated; he doesn't like being this firm and authoritarian deity. He wants to be an inspiration, a figure of security, for those who haven't had it.
He means every word he says. His resentment runs deep, and he wants the former prelates to live feeling it every day. However, for now, he'd rather do without it, breathe, just a little. Just once.

The Lamb turns toward the exit so his small audience won't see the tears. They're much harder to hide now than usually.
He quickly wipes them away, keeping one hand over the opening to show he's about to leave.

- One last thing, before the "big moment," he says. I believe you have now met Nao. Please know that he is a wonderful follower, but he's also someone who's had a hard time socializing since I rescued him. Therefore, I am counting on you not to interrupt what is going on between him and Leshy.

Chapter Text

Fields of flowers are rarely as thick as this one. One could drown in all these beautiful, bright red blossoms, stretching as far as the eye can see and nose can smell; their scent is subtle but pleasant, sweet but not overly so, a bit like a warm blanket on the coolest evenings, and catches the nostrils with every breath. The stems are firm but bend underfoot, the petals are softer than the silkiest fabric. In short, a camellia field large enough for all the whims of the world, where both small and large creatures can enjoy themselves.

He is in his element; after all, he has reigned over a territory filled with all these things for centuries. This place is familiar, he enjoys it very much. He loves spending time in nature. He knows it by heart. In a playful mood, he enjoys scratching the ground, digging tunnels, and passing between the roots. He is in his element. He is in his kingdom, his divine lands.

He comes out from time to time, grabs a few camellias to eat, and then once there's nothing left, he cleans himself, throwing the earth everywhere around him, and goes back to digging.
There is no simpler way to have fun. Just take advantage of what is around him. He's always done it, even when he was a child. In fact, he still does it today.

It is not the same thing, actually. He loves this place very much. He loves the ground and he loves the flowers.
But something is missing.

So instead of continuing to play, he starts searching.
He doesn't know what he's looking for, but he knows he must find that something, otherwise this field, these flowers, this scent and this sweetness, will soon seem like pale copies of everything he once knew. They don't seem incomplete, but they're starting to seem... Dull?
He doesn't know if he should call a name. Would it change anything? He also doesn't know if he can touch it. He has a feeling he can.

He can't find it.
Something is missing and he can't find it.

It's totally beyond his reach. Yet he feels it, he knows it: it shouldn't be.
He doesn't want it to be.

The scent of the camellias is no longer as strong. It's beginning to fade.

Disappearing, merging into nothingness, with a sensation of leaving the field without even having tried to leave.

Replaced by the appetizing, but still less pleasant, scent of still-warm berry gruel.

His upper body muscles slightly numb, Leshy gradually wakes up, struggling to push the floor with his arms to get up. His legs, however, are too heavy for him to sit in a better position; he currently possesses as much grace and elegance as a wet rag. He finds it harder and harder to get up in the morning; perhaps he should look into sleep disorders.
Someone's hand pushes the bowl of oatmeal a little closer to him—when he smells its sweet aroma again, his stomach begins to rumble very, very loudly, as if he had not eaten anything since the day before. It must have been his dream that whetted his appetite: after all, digging makes one hungry.

- Good morning, brother, Kallamar tells him, as gently as possible so as not to startle him. We were served breakfast not long ago. We're being treated like the kings we were this morning!

- Mmmh...

- I'm sorry about last night, he adds, playing with the spoon to keep his hands busy, his gaze shifty. I was worried one of us might get hurt, so... Well, if I justify myself, I'll be rubbing salt in the wound, I think. By the way, how are you feeling?

- A little flabby, the worm replies before letting out a long yawn, gently punching his legs to wake them up. And besides, I'm super hungry, I could almost devour a heretic. Other than that, I think everything's fine.

Kallamar allows himself a light laugh, relieved by this sight. Feeling hungry has always been a sign of good health following treatment, in his experience. The siblings will be able to fill their bellies without further problems, if everything continues to go according to plan.
Because things will go according to plan.
Because they've planned everything. They're ready. They're ready.
Everything will be fine.
They need to build up their strength since today, a painful reunion awaits them. They barely feel like going—in fact, none of them really know. Setting the bowls a little further away from the sleeping quarters, Kallamar announces, without any further assurance, that this breakfast will be shared as a family, and that they will all leave together once their bowls are empty…

Leshy's legs finally cooperate after several minutes, allowing him to sit with a little more poise, though without offering him the grace and elegance he's sorely lacked since his resurrection, even though he usually "couldn't give less damns." Somewhat reluctant, but feeling he had no choice, he sits down next to his brother and sister, in a circle, like a sort of discussion group waiting for everyone to vent their feelings—at least that's the impression it gives, and for the worm, there's rarely anything more awkward. To keep his mind off it—and, for that matter, to keep his mind off anything—he grabs the small wooden spoon dipped into his bowl and begins to dig into his portion with great gulps, hoping to relieve both his hunger and boredom at the same time. Eating is probably the best way to proceed; after all, it's rude to talk with your mouth full, so no one will force him.

Heket, on the other hand, clearly doesn't possess the same dynamism towards her meal. With her gaze lost in the crowns know where, she simply stirs the contents of her bowl with as much energy as a newborn at nap time. These flavors and colors, which presence on her plate she usually cherishes and promotes, don't seem to bring her any joy today, as her energy reserves are so low. Every now and then, she decides to bring the spoon to her mouth without much panache, a spoon containing barely a mouthful of porridge, and chews it for a long time, just enough not to choke on it, before returning to stirring the contents of the bowl. At this rate, there will probably be leftovers, almost never seen from her.

The former bishop of plague, content to eat slowly, takes the opportunity to observe his younger siblings very closely but has no idea how he's supposed to react. On the one hand, his brother is staying quiet for once—which isn't as good a sign as it seems—and on the other, his sister's strange eating behavior is beginning to worry him. Could the tension surrounding Shamura's return have disrupted their appetites to this extent? In any case, it makes for a relatively disturbing spectacle that seems wise to remedy as quickly as possible.
The silence is beginning to weigh on him—and silence, he knows, almost always heralds great misfortune. For Kallamar, the idea of ​​leaving for the meeting without having uttered a single word is rather sad, and he doesn't want this idea to cross his siblings' minds. He then brings his hand to his mouth and clears his throat loudly enough to attract their attention.

- You choking? Leshy asks, snickering between two large bites.

- Of course not, idiot. I just wanted to call out to you guys. I want us to enjoy this moment together, before we leave!

Heket suddenly drops her spoon. As if they needed any of this too... Another one of those "heart-to-heart talks," as if a casual conversation wasn't enough. If only for once, she could do without a helper to repeat after her...
However, thinking of it, perhaps this is the opportunity she's been looking for to make up for her recent lack of honesty.

- Listen, the three of us are very rarely in a relatively quiet setting, the squid explains, placing his fingertips on his own chest, and in a few hours, we will be together again. I mean that as, the four of us, with all the people we care about. We have been out of the habit for far too long. I think it would be beneficial for us to clear our heads so we can best prepare for Shamura's arrival. You have a lot to tell me; after all, I never see you in the office except to change your bandages!

- I suspected you liked playing therapist, Leshy says disdainfully, but personally, I'm not interested at all. There's a confession booth, for that kind of nonsense; you can go there without me.

- Would it help loosen you up if I started first? Kallamar suggests in the same tone, using his typical gestures to give himself a humble air. I'm pretty good at putting on a show.

- I assure you, everyone knows that! I don't want to watch this performance!

"Are they really fighting over something like this?" wonders the frog. Trivialities, again, always. Sometimes she wishes she could swap handicaps with her elder brother just so she wouldn't have to witness all this. Being forced into silence while putting up with the other people's heckling is so boring!
And yet, she doesn't agree with either of them. It's an unpleasant moment, but deep down, there are too many things bothering her that she could try to make go away—starting with a large bowl of barely touched porridge that's starting to get cold. She can't help but stare at that bowl for a few moments, like both a hungry predator and a frightened prey. This bowl is her enemy. Her appetite is getting lower and lower. She hates it. She wants to eat; no, she still can.

What she wants, is to be able to eat again without other concerns.
To fill her stomach and clear her head.

Once and for all.

So without really knowing where this sudden burst of courage comes from, she raises an arm in a sign of participation.

- Me first... she says quietly, with all her determination.

- Wha... Really? Kallamar asked, somewhat worried, waving his hand towards her neck. Are you sure it'll be okay, with...

- "I want to be first" she then announced in signs. "I can and I want to do it like this."

- Well, in that case, if you're sure of what you're doing, I'll translate so Leshy understands-

- No!

The frog's categorical response; she's sick in the head (and not only the head) of relying on interpreters to express herself properly. If her throat risks being irritated by speaking for too long, no problem, she's gotten used to it a long time ago. Feeling it was a little dry, she finally finds the strength to pick up her bowl again, taking three huge mouthfuls that she quickly swallows for fuel. Her throat now a little more hydrated, she feels fearful, but ready.
Hearing only the sounds of mouths, Leshy wondered what could be going on. Why is it a problem if he understands ? And why has Heket not answered their brother's question? Thoughtfully, he places a hand on his bandage. He should make sure he looks presentable before going out. Besides, he can't even tell himself if he's "presentable."

- It's me! his sister shouts, pulling him from his thoughts. I'm talking!

- You know, the worm begins to say, I don't mind if he-

- No! Leave it!

Leshy doesn't insist, so his sister can finally begin. She holds back a cough, then, to give herself one last shred of strength, she places a hand on her heart and begins to speak, calmly, softly, just enough to understand without getting lost.

Truth is, she's as terrified as the other two.

Last time, she'd promised herself she'd repay Narinder five times the pain he'd put them through. After all, he deserved no less. If that meant projecting herself into it through the little thing that served as his pawn, waving a shamefully stolen crown as if it were made of leaves and twigs, then so be it. The yellow crown would, this time, prove much stronger than the red one. She attacked the Lamb, in every way she could think of. She attacked her followers from previous generations, choosing a handful of them at random to inflict a famine the likes of which Anura's heretics had never experienced. She grew her own cult while vowing to make the Lamb pay for daring to create their own, their cult of filthy beasts fit only for sacrifice. But none of it worked. She was weak, way too weak.

In fact, she was so weak that her younger brother was brutally killed, when she could have taken charge of the Lamb much earlier to avoid this tragedy.
But instead, she entrusted her brother with a task she should have taken responsibility for.

During the story, Leshy is very surprised that anyone mentions him. Deep down, perhaps his sister isn't entirely wrong. He should not have tried dealing with all this. Admitting it feels horrible — he knows that well enough — but at that time, at least, he lacked strategy. He rushed headlong into what he believed to be a foolproof plan, and this disastrous choice cost him a life he thought would last forever. The great Leshy, struck down so easily by a wretch who was meant to perish in sacrifice, who would have believed it?
Disturbed, he begins to frantically scratch the shoulder of the arm he was holding but is quickly interrupted by a hand gently resting on his own.
He doesn't see the suffering of others, but he can still hear it, without having to feel it.

This was probably when they needed Shamura's help the most, when they most needed to make a fully conscious decision. Yet when Kallamar asked her once more if they should beg for it, she lacked the presence of mind to simply answer, "yes." Instead, she was naive enough to think that someone in this family had to carry their own guts, both literally and figuratively.
So, naturally, she was the one who was taken down next.

What about purgatory? Nothing exciting, nothing surprising. Where she belonged. She saw only two things in it: the guts dripping from her open wound, showing that she had been unable to "carry" them, and tangible proof that she was, after all, good for nothing.
Yet, she didn't want to admit it right away. She thought, "Kallamar is a big coward! He could have challenged my decision! He could have acted and killed all the Lamb's followers in one outbreak!" She thought, "Leshy is an idiot! He should have admitted he couldn't defeat the Lamb before getting himself killed!" All this, before realizing that she herself could have done all these things. She herself could have taken care of them. Instead, she chose to flee her responsibilities.

The worm can no longer locate his sister's bowl in the room. It no longer gave off heat. Its scent is no longer carried by the air. He would be unable to find it without clear indications. The bowl has become imperceptible. Here he is again in the position he hated: that of the "blind dude," the one who couldn't tell, the one who wouldn't know until he had gesticulated across the room to find his way around.
There were plenty of things he could have done to avoid finding himself in this state. Instead, he preferred to act all proud, all to impress...

...

Well, no one, actually. Why did he start looking for a name? He had followers back then, but he wasn't close to any of them. They were impressed very easily; one only had to be much bigger and more powerful than them to charm their fragile little minds. So far, no one has managed to capture his attention, let alone more. The few people who have tried to make advances have left with their offerings, tails between their legs, in every sense of the word.
The former god of chaos puts a hand to his bandage again, tempted to remove it. It itches. Why does it itch? He often feels like scratching himself when something displeases him lately. Maybe there's dirt embedded underneath. He snickers at the thought; how ironic, considering all the other dirt around.

Except the story has cut out, without him noticing.

Because tears have replaced words.

Unable to express herself further, as if telling the rest would summon a malevolent spirit, Heket's hands are almost glued to her face. She frantically wipes away the tears that keep falling again and again, almost forming a river, as if she wants to deny their presence again, make them disappear before they can leave her eyes to explore her cheeks - now soaking wet despite her best efforts. She can't hide these tears, nor the viscous sounds of her nose and throat when she tries to sniff discreetly.
Kallamar offers to comfort her, but without showing the slightest hesitation, she pushes him away sharply, as she has become accustomed to doing. With a sweeping gesture of her arm, she attempts to wipe away all the water that has flowed from her eyes in one fell swoop, without much success, and tries to resume her speech.

The worm knows perfectly well what she's supposed to say and, as always, waits. He knows what happens next, after all, who doesn't? The Lamb kills the other two, then takes their souls out of purgatory, and there they are, reduced to the same position as those who worshipped them just a few years ago. A state no one here appreciates, but one they endure as best they can, and with which they have learned to live again, eventually.
Yet, that's not what comes. Nothing comes. She is forced to give up, her face falling into her hands.

- Shamura... she struggles to articulate between sobs. Shamura... All gonna die! Again!

- Not this time, Heket! Kallamar begins, reassuring himself more than anything else. We're going to-

- You know nothing! We all gonna die! We know nothing!

Having strained too hard to utter her complaint, Heket begins to cough violently, nearly collapsing to the floor. It seems as if her airways have filled with blood and phlegm, but it doesn't take much: even before the eldest gets up to help her cough up the blockage that's forming, she grabs her brother's empty bowl and spits it all out in one go, all to a less than melodious background sound.

Feeling quite humiliated already, she slaps herself on the cheeks and slowly regains her composure.

- All that to say... fail... we can't.

And silence returns.
And Heket's gaze hardens again.

All this effort just to say she's afraid of making the same mistakes again? It was completely pointless; everyone already knows; At least, that's what Leshy thinks, maintaining his skeptical stance. They're all afraid of making those mistakes again, since they're perfectly aware of the cost. There really wasn't any point in making it an almost-family reunion. In fact, what's stopping him from leaving alone, right now?

Yet, before he can even try to escape, or before the awkwardness has completely set in, Kallamar clears his throat and warms up his voice—without realizing that this simple gesture is stabbing directly at his sister's heart.

- I'm so sorry, Leshy, but I would appreciate to be second in command. I feel ready, and I feel that if I hold back again, I'll never have the courage to tell you all these things.

- Honestly, replies the worm, dejected, I just want to get this over with. Come on, talk.

Actually, he's curious. Perhaps he'll be surprised by this testimony, perhaps he'll learn something new this time. He'd better be. If this is another dramatic performance, he won't even try to hide his early departure.

Fortunately, he doesn't need to; Kallamar's story is, who would have thought it, rather interesting.

At first, he tries as best he can to deliver his usual tirade: the grand gestures, the long sentences as if he's just returned from an intermission, a whole speech about a grandeur and dignity unjustly taken from the prelates. He's done this throughout his reign and throughout his new life. He's mastered it. He wants to master it. He knows how to play this part. It's a staging he's constantly perfected, again, and again.
However, as with every theater set, there's a small, discreet but terrible detail that ruins everything without his control.

His set is ruined by his voice.
An unsure voice, a voice that trembles so much it sounds like an earthquake.
Except this earthquake only seems to affect his own foundations.

Quickly dropping his arms, both literally and figuratively, his head finally joins in, shame pressing too firmly on the back of his neck.

- ...Hey, I'm not believable am I? he asks, without changing his tone. Come on, let's stop lying to ourselves and each other. Apart from the kids, no one finds me believable here. That's what scares me—no, actually, everything scares me, and I'm tired of pretending.

A burst of courage? It's curious, especially since he's not entirely wrong in his words: he's really not the most charismatic figure here, even without counting the Lamb.
Leshy would have raised an eyebrow again, if he had any. Instead, he's careful to remain silent; this event is so rare, it would be a shame to give it a premature end!

Kallamar paused. His hand firmly grips his forearm, crumpling the fabric of his sleeve. He's going to hurt himself. No, he's not going to hurt himself, that would be absurd. Yes, he will, this profound moron. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. It's going to be okay. It absolutely has to be okay. Just for today. Please.

He has to think straight.
He has to string together each of his words.
It will be fine.

- Actually, that is my problem, Kallamar declares, not daring to raise his head. I realized all this when the Lamb brought me back to life. I spent my reign running away from my responsibilities, and I still do to this day... But today, I'm going to have a new responsibility, and not the least of them, namely Shamura. I refuse to entrust that to anyone else. This is my family, and... And no damn heretic will come and take it away from me this time! This is my family!

- Don't you think the Lamb can handle it himself this time? Leshy asks. He makes stupid decisions, but he can handle this kind of thing.

- No, I can't take such a risk. I'm tired of entrusting my fate to others, especially when the consequences are so real. It was already one of my many ways of running away, dumping my worries on my followers, or... Well, on the three of you. I don't think I've ever cried as much as when you were murdered in cold blood, brother.

"Did he really cry for me?" the worm wonders. The siblings have never had this conversation. Was it normal to mourn the death of a deity? Doesn't he deserve eternal judgment and mockery for being defeated? Leshy was convinced that his death was one of the most pathetic events in the Old Faith, that gossip hadn't even waited for his last breath to spread.
For that event and, of course, the day Narinder's previous protégé fled for his life. What a laugh that day, especially since that old fogey went to hide in the hills and drink like a fish. A coward with a coward's hideout, honestly, who would do that?

- I'm sick of just... Crying about everything, the squid continues, or losing control of this flesh-and-blood puppet at the slightest problem that comes my way! I can't even spend a moment in the presence of Narinder, so for once, I admit it! I fear what I'm about to become, I fear what awaits me and what awaits us all, when I put bandages on the head of my biggest mistake.

- "Your" biggest mistake?" repeats the worm, taken aback. Sure, we've been had, and it kills me a third time to admit it, but it's Narinder's fault we're here-

- And it's all our fault that things have turned out this way, Leshy. We won't rely on the Lamb to fix everything. We will live, regain our pride, and give back to him everything he has given us, good and bad.

Fine, corny speeches, which he probably prepared in advance to make himself look good.

Yet it works, and resonates with Leshy—it's true, why would he rely on the Lamb to restore his former glory?

For once, they won't have anything stolen—not their happiness, nor their self-esteem, nor the people they love.

Speaking of which...

- Kal, you think you're done? asks the former Chaos god.

- Oh, well, I think so? replies his older brother, tightening his grip slightly on his sleeve. I didn't have much to say, anyway, I think I've gotten to the point.

- In that case, I'd like to talk too.

Heket turns to her younger brother instinctively. Deep down, even though she doesn't want to admit it, she hopes he'll bring this up, that the three of them will talk about it.
It's been a long time, too long, since they've allowed themselves to appreciate someone outside their family.

Leshy hesitates. He twists his thumbs around each other, the firm, leathery bark rubbing against his knuckles.

A bit like the feel of that tree—makes sense, with the bark, except Leshy doesn't have moss on his fingers.

- To be totally honest... I have the same fears, basically. I mean, this mortal coil is tiring and vulnerable, and it's getting on my nerves a little. So, I'm not really keen on adding fuel to the fire by damaging it, or allowing these people to use it. I mean, these people...

The rough sensation of his thumbs no longer occupies him. Instead, he begins to stroke his hands frantically. It's not as soft as what he likes.

- Well, there's no point in hiding anything at this point he declares. There's this guy, this cat I believe, that I've gotten close to as you guys know. Originally, I just wanted to show off a little, since he seemed interested in me. I thought, "This is your chance, Leshy, oh great lord of chaos! Your first follower in ages!"

- Krr Krr... Follower... Heket murmurs, with a quiet but almost hoarse laugh.

- It's my eyes that were gouged out, you've got it mixed up! the blind one says, annoyed. In short, in the end, it's mostly him who guides me and teaches me a lot of things, and even though I'm grateful, I'm a little worried that I'm not the more impressive of the two of us, because I really want him to admire me. That's all.

- And, what about the other followers? Kallamar asks with benevolent curiosity.

- I could not give less damns about them.

- ...At least that's clear.

In the end, Kallamar's plan wasn't so effective; they were honest with each other, they were able to talk about Shamura, but neither of them truly relaxed.
However, there's one trick that works every time, one he's used many times on his patients to calm them down during important medical procedures. Deciding to give it a try, the squid stretches both arms out to the side and then tries to add his biggest smile.

- Come on, get over here ! he says.

- Ugh, Heket groans. Silly.

- Do we have to? Leshy asks with a hint of disgust. I'm not going to lie, huggies are not really my thing.

- Think of it as practice!

Not in the mood to push it, Leshy agrees, eventually followed by his sister, and soon the three of them are all snuggled up together. Leshy's last group hug was probably when he was a child—so, centuries ago. It's tight and not exactly pleasant, but at least he senses an intention to do good, to want others to be well, to want to be well himself.

That said, normally, a hug is completely dry. Besides, his bandages are pretty much clean.
Yet, he could swear he feels water on his cheek.

When there's no one outside, the atmosphere is almost morbid.
Yet here they are, surrounding the stone circle marking the ground near the prayer statue.

The wind isn't blowing. The sun isn't shining particularly strongly, which makes the place rather cold.
The Lamb, very calm, adjusts his cloak—having insisted on dressing this way rather than in his usual attire, for some reason that escapes the other three.

- Where... Nari? asks Heket, looking around them.

- Narinder won't be with us this time, declares the Lamb.

- Well, so much the better, says Leshy, crossing his arms over his chest. If he had come, I would have chased him away from here, and not just with dirt pellets.

Although stressed, Kallamar nods silently.

Still without any tension, the Lamb joins his hands and his crown begins to shine.

- It is high time to bring this little family back together, he declares, taking a step back. However, keep in mind that you remain my followers, and this resurrection brings nothing new to that. In these mortal bodies, you live for me, and the prelate of war and knowledge will be no exception. The red crown betrayed you for a time; today it protects you, today it governs you. Let us learn together to think, to live, and to coexist, in the name of the Peace we cherish.

The stone circle begins to glow, with the same red glow as the crown.
It's the turn of the former bishops to recoil.

They know what's going to happen, yet they're each as tense as can be.
To be together again... Kallamar was right; they dreamed of it, and yet, they would have preferred that some of them could simply rest in peace.

But perhaps the Lamb is right? Perhaps this is what peace is: the prospect of a calm, quiet life...

The Lamb suddenly spreads his arms; the portal finally opens, from which emerges a nearly bruised purple body, which collapses to the ground, groaning in pain. Blood trickles from the top of their head, the gaping wound barely healed and loosely hidden by falling bandages.

While no one else dares to move, the arachnid continues to whimper, struggling to sit on their knees—knees stained with their own blood, inside and out. Both hands delicately rest on their forehead and rub it as gently, when suddenly:

—... aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

The former bishop of war screams to death as if they'd just been struck by a sharp axe in the face. The pain causes their back to arch so much that, without removing their hands from their positions, their elbows hit the stone—adding two more bruises to the vast collection.

Shamura's piercing screams are almost as unbearable as the pain probably coursing through their body right now; they screams until their jaw could wrench open.

- MY LIMBS! MY HEAD! TORTURER, CURSED CHILD, WHY ARE YOU NOT DEAD?! YOUR PARENTS COMMITTED A SIN WHEN THEY BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD! THE OLD FAITH WILL TEAR YOU TO ONE WAY YOU DESERVE! YOU WRECK! YOU SHOULD HAVE PERISHED INSTEAD OF US!

...

Is that what Leshy did when he was resurrected?

He remembers a deep resentment, a pain so overwhelming that he felt as if he were in Narinder's presence again. In his rage and fear, he probably spewed a whole catalog of insults, but his memory fails him on that score, and in any case, he doesn't want to remember them.

What he does remember, however, is that this day, he was completely alone, at the mercy of his doubts and fears.
No one hugged him; for once, he would have liked to.

His body finally acts on its own: he rushes forward, with the sole intention of getting closer to his elder sibling. Kallamar reaches out as if to grab him:

- Leshy, no!

But the latter doesn't care. He falls to his knees, now facing Shamura, who gradually straightens up.

The screams eventually fade, then cease.
The hands detach from their foreheads.
They move toward the former bishop of chaos.

They rest on the latter's cheeks, lifting his face towards Shamura's.
A moment frozen in time by a brotherly love that had been all too absent lately.

Shamura, suddenly very calm, observes their younger brother attentively, very gently stroking his cheek with a flick of his thumb. Giving him a puzzled, but surprisingly happy look. Happy with this gesture, happy thanks to this unexpected reunion, and finally underlined by a few tears that begin to flow just as gently.

A look that Leshy will never be able to return.

Pathetic.

Unable to bear the emotional weight of this situation any longer, Leshy begins by abruptly moving away. Taking advantage of the opening, it's Kallamar's turn to kneel and grab the elder's hands.

- One, two... One, two...

He counts the limbs. He counts the fingers. He checks that Shamura is whole.

Because Shamura might not have come back with their whole body.

It's too much for Leshy, who ends up running away from there.

Nothing like a big, old tree hidden from the rest of the camp to have a good cry, right?

At least, that's Leshy's idea so he wouldn't have to put up with anyone in this state. He's not usually the type to cry so much, but this time he really needed it.
This time, all the bishops are back together after so long... What a strange idea to have in mind. Rather heavy. Rather frightening.

But it's not as if he prefers mourning.

The cold seems to have dissipated; after all, the resurrection ended a while ago. A few voices can be heard, and the air has subtly warmed; the worm feels its caress on his arms and face.

He doesn't just feel the breeze. Raising his head, leaning against the tree he had carefully chosen as a hiding place, he felt something else caress his forehead and cheeks—something just as soft, but warmer, more comforting.

The rays of the sun.

In a way, isn't he lucky to be able to enjoy it like this? He wouldn't be able to look up at the sky if he still had his sight.

Come to think of it, this isn't the first time he's isolated himself here. He recognizes this tree, he recognizes the smell, he recognizes the feeling of being alone with the beautiful weather.
He's been here before.
With Nao.

Was that when Nao took his hand? Is he confusing it with the sun?
Wouldn't he be better off with Nao, if he were present by his side?

The solitude is starting to not be as pleasant as it used to be.
But he's had enough unbearable thoughts for one day.

Exhausted by the event he'd just experienced, Leshy leans back against the tree trunk, crosses his arms over his stomach, and before sinking into the sun and his memories of Nao, he murmurs:

- Pretty soft...