Brother Fenzel struggled in this wind to light the candles of the Passive Hours, the hours in the middle of the night when your fate was in the hands of the More Powerful. The candles were a symbol of light, clarity, even in the darkness. However, tonight the wind snuck through the branches and stones of the little shrine, making it harder for him to see that clarity, that light. He had trusted his life to the care of Mundimila the Compassionate. She protected the wanderer, the castaway, the hidden, the vulnerable, and so he honored her for her help in these vulnerable hours. He was the attendant and cleric of her forest shrine here in the Autumn Woods. But in this steady night breeze, even inside the shrine, the candles would not stay lit. His old hands trembled to light them again.
He’d been that kind of wanderer for many years, on lonely paths, mapping the world with his feet, pulled by wanderlust. But then, one night, he’d heard Her singing and followed the sound. She led him to the Church of the Starlit Branches, promised him something bigger than just his vagabond traveling. Folks of the forest gave him food and shelter and friendship. Many of them were displaced by war—smaller creatures, humans, Silvi, the Reconstructed, the Clodders who were just trying to settle again, anywhere. He stayed, became a cleric, learned healing magic. He found he wanted to help people. He served them for years and thought he always would. But you don’t always get to stay where you want.
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Bear Witness 