Prayer

       Once a temple had stood in this patch of forest, but in the last hundred years, the Keep saw fit to move the goddess closer to Her people. Yet Her time in a place was not easily wiped away. Even now Her presence remained in subtle ways: the scent of stone-oil, the whisper of a warm wind, and on rare occasions, the private press of worshippers’ paws in the earth.
       These things led Fenja to the icon of her goddess. No capranth was barred from the new temple, of course, but there were times one wanted to meet the divine in solitude, and it was for that reason that no one made much of a fuss over the icon left in the wild. Slinking under great vines of ancient grape and thorny brush, Fenja paused to sniff some of her own kind’s tracks, but they were a week old at least, too old for her to identify her fellow by scent. Whoever else came seeking solace wasn’t here now.
       Carrying on, Fenja kept low and followed the tracks, pausing every time she heard so much as a twig snap around the bend. It wasn’t exactly encouraged for someone her age to come so far alone. With the grounds left untended, predators could easily hide, and the forest suited them nicely. The canopy was thick enough that little sunlight passed through, and what remained of the overgrown temple was a mass of lush, deep green plants and rich red soil. The ground was cushioned by years of crushed pine and ferns. She’d loved that once, when her paws were soft and tender, but these days she spent enough time in the woods to barely notice the difference.
       Once she’d reached sacred ground, it was a quick enough trip to the clearing, though it wasn’t all that clear anymore. Saplings crept over broken stone walls, and moss and lichen made their homes along all that was left of the altars. She knew from her lessons that this was the first stage of forest growth: the same renewal took place when an ancient tree fell, leaving a precious hole in the canopy. Seeds here had waited hundreds of years for their chance, dormant in the soil, just to spring to life when the ivy won its war on the once-proud structure, eventually wearing it down into rubble. Even now they competed for their place in the sun, and one day, Zenith had said, they’d eat up every inch of the temple, returning it to the earth.
       It was enough to make her head spin, but that wasn’t why she was here today. Fenja looked over the clearing, twisting her ears to listen for other people. Sure she was alone, she pushed through an arch of huge leaves to stand at the foot of the goddess.
       The statue was a dated piece, carved in the simple style of ages past, its features vague and fathomless. It sat in a circle of stones with its arms reaching down, palms open for prayers. In the peaceful afternoon, everything seemed hushed; it was easy to imagine the sounds of forest were quelled by Her presence.
       You’re the same as always, Fenja thought, staring up at the feline gaze. Of all the ruin around Her, only the icon was still in one piece, lovingly tended by the quiet, loyal paws of her more secretive devotees. Not all who followed Her ways must do so in the eye of the Keep, the adults sometimes said. Fenja had wondered what it might be like, being able to creep off alone and meet the goddess face to face, without a care in the world for what your words with her meant to anyone else. The idea had stuck, and now she was here, gazing up at the icon like it might tell her all she needed to know, years before her time.
       But that was wishful thinking, and Fenja couldn’t linger. No offering was needed in this place, so she simply sat up on her haunches and placed a paw in the goddess’s hand, closing her eyes.
       “Goddess,” Fenja started, taking care to get her tone just right. She must be humble, but not pathetic; one must acknowledge the goddess’s power, yes, but it was unbecoming to grovel and beg, according to Zenith. There was no shame in being earthly. “Two-pathed as you are, so I shall be…guide me as the bridge between your Peoples, and keep my eyes open…”
       Fenja trailed off. Her voice seemed small in the deity’s shadow, nothing at all like the low, mature tone of her seniors. She hesitated, then abandoned formal prayer. “You probably know, but tomorrow is my meeting with the Church. They…the others don’t tell me everything, but I know it’s important that the Reverend Daughter has no complaints with my learning…so, please…” I want to stay. I want to belong here. I don’t want any excuse to take me back with them. Don’t let me disappoint Zenith. “Keep me on my toes?”
       The goddess didn’t answer. That was alright; she rarely did, and certainly not for a young, half-fledged devotee like Fenja. But just in case, she stayed like that a few moments longer, eyes closed and ears perked in that listening-stance she so often witnessed from Zenith, like the matriarch could catch voices in the wind.
       All Fenja heard were cicadas and chittering squirrels. Sighing, she dropped back down to all-fours, giving the icon a lingering look before turning back the way she’d come. Whether or not the goddess had heard her, there was much to do at the Keep, and if she was gone much longer she’d probably end up with Day barging into her prayers.
       Until next time, Fenja thought. See you soon.