"No," Tian Shen agreed. "It's becoming a home."
...
One morning, Drowsy didn't return from her usual patrol.
She was not bound by leash nor command, but she had never missed her dusk rest before.
Worry rippled through the group like wind through wheat. Tian Shen said nothing at first. He merely picked up his spear and walked toward the high western ridges.
The others followed without being told.
They found Drowsy before sunset, crouched in a low clearing, wings mantled wide. Her eyes glowed softly, not in alarm, but mourning.
She had found an ancient altar, buried beneath roots and time. Carvings of forgotten beasts adorned its face. Offerings, long crumbled, lay scattered.
Feng Yin traced the edge of the stone.
"A guardian altar. Very old."
Tian Shen lit incense without a word. Ji Luan offered a wildflower. Little Mei poured out a handful of sweets.
Together, the Scouts knelt and gave silence. Not prayer. Just presence.
The wind changed.
