Ah, Quinn. She'd pretty much had it. "Urna. Also a sentry." The hyena dipped her head and ducked back into shelter.
Urna circled the trunk and picked a spot nearly opposite Quinnat, then flopped down on her side to regard him. She wasn't exactly...experienced at the whole shaman thing—it was even odds that this guy knew more about Ohr than she did—but at least she'd been up front about it.
She was just picking through the knowledge she did have when Quinnat asked his question.
“What can you tell me about redemption?”
Whoa, right into the meat of things. Urna found it hard to believe this guy could possibly need it. Was he asking for himself? (Was this a trap?) She cocked her head and reassessed the friendly-looking wolf in front of her. What regrets did he have? "You really feel that bad about almost crashing into me, huh?" she joked with a wry smile. Reaching back, she winnowed out a small hide pouch from among the tentacles of her mane and deposited it between her front paws.
"I can tell you plenty. It's something of a personal interest." She didn't elaborate further, and instead tugged the drawstring open to paw through the pouch. "It's tricky to discuss, with Ohr. His compassion is limitless; he does not need to forgive because he does not resent." Urna fished out a string of oblong seeds and laid them on the carpet of fallen fir needles. "But at the same time, it is his wish that his followers live in accordance with certain values." Another object, an irregular slice of bone smaller than her pawpad. It went beside the string of seeds. "So what happens when you stray from that path? You still owe amends—to yourself, maybe, or those you've harmed. To the world."
She lifted out a feather, cream and brown and tipped with black, and cinched the pouch closed.
"It is a choice, though. There is always a choice." Urna gestured at the spread of items in front of her. The seeds, the bone, the feather. "What would you like to know?"
Urna circled the trunk and picked a spot nearly opposite Quinnat, then flopped down on her side to regard him. She wasn't exactly...experienced at the whole shaman thing—it was even odds that this guy knew more about Ohr than she did—but at least she'd been up front about it.
She was just picking through the knowledge she did have when Quinnat asked his question.
“What can you tell me about redemption?”
Whoa, right into the meat of things. Urna found it hard to believe this guy could possibly need it. Was he asking for himself? (Was this a trap?) She cocked her head and reassessed the friendly-looking wolf in front of her. What regrets did he have? "You really feel that bad about almost crashing into me, huh?" she joked with a wry smile. Reaching back, she winnowed out a small hide pouch from among the tentacles of her mane and deposited it between her front paws.
"I can tell you plenty. It's something of a personal interest." She didn't elaborate further, and instead tugged the drawstring open to paw through the pouch. "It's tricky to discuss, with Ohr. His compassion is limitless; he does not need to forgive because he does not resent." Urna fished out a string of oblong seeds and laid them on the carpet of fallen fir needles. "But at the same time, it is his wish that his followers live in accordance with certain values." Another object, an irregular slice of bone smaller than her pawpad. It went beside the string of seeds. "So what happens when you stray from that path? You still owe amends—to yourself, maybe, or those you've harmed. To the world."
She lifted out a feather, cream and brown and tipped with black, and cinched the pouch closed.
"It is a choice, though. There is always a choice." Urna gestured at the spread of items in front of her. The seeds, the bone, the feather. "What would you like to know?"