Two more months passed after that, and the air already began to take on that familiar, crisp autumn bite.
Winter was coming.
Down in the textile district, the sheep tribe and the weavers were working overtime. I'd seen the first batch of the new winter coats—heavy wool lined with soft rabbit fur and reinforced with cured leather. They were beautiful, functional, and far better than anything else I'd ever made.
I'm just glad the rabbit tribe had no issue with us using rabbit fur for the coats. Well, it wasn't like they weren't uncomfortable with the idea at the start.
But the sheep tribe tried their best to convince them. It was like when they shaved off all their wool to make clothes and provide warmth for others, only the rabbits are dead. They didn't include that last part so don't worry.
As I watched the entirety of the West Way from the balcony with a sense of purpose burning in my heart, I felt a familiar tugging at my ankles.
