The next morning I found myself making my way to the temple district, whistling absently in the warm morning sun.
It was early, but that didn't matter, the temples were open day and night, every day of the year. Before my long trip to the Northern Wsetian tribes, I would travel every morning to the temple of the Weaver to light a candle and speak with the Abbott there.
The Weaver's temple was nowhere near as grand as the ones dedicated to the other gods in the district, but I adored the sight of it. Not because the building itself was very nice to look at, but because of what it represented. Or who it represented.
An initiate I didn't recognise was manning the doors.
She smiled at me as I passed. "Good morning."
"Morning, initiate." I nodded at her. "New around here?"
The girl, who couldn't be more than seventeen, with dark brown hair, dark skin, and large, green-brown eyes nodded.
