The village is quiet, peaceful, like something out of an idyllic story. There’s a waterfall nearby, filling the air with the steady noise of rushing water, and an owl is calling from one of the trees, but otherwise there’s nothing stirring.

Erich wanders down the stone paths with Alexis at his side, ears perked as he takes in the old, well-maintained houses and the various gardens scattered around. The people who live here love their village, he decides, and after all the war-torn, ruined places he’s seen, the very sight of somewhere undisturbed is soothing.

Alexis whuffs softly and nudges his side, pointing her muzzle at a house by the river, right next to a water wheel. At first he doesn’t see what’s so special about the place, but upon a second, slower look he spots the… wolf statues?

He cocks his head in curiosity and wanders closer, peering at the two wooden wolves carved into the base of the pillars framing the steps up to the door. They look old, details worn away over time, but there’s still enough left that he’s certain these are wolves, not dogs. There’s just something about them that doesn’t feel tame.

(How odd.)

(Who uses wolves as guardians?)

He circles the house, looking for other figures carved into the posts, but finds nothing. What he does find, however, is a stone statue out by the small lake where the waterfall is; it’s another wolf, timeworn and smoothed by the touch of many hands, sitting primly with its head tilted down and its tail by its paws. There’s something odd attached to its back, a circular disk that Erich can’t make heads or tails of, and there are odd details added in that he suspects might be stylized tufts of fur.

There looks to be something set in front of it, and Erich moves closer to investigate.

It’s… a cloth with birdseed scattered across it.

He cocks his head in curiosity, wondering why something like that would be set in front of a wolf statue, much less approximately in line with where the wolf’s gaze would be. It’s a strange sort of offering, if it even is an offering, and he can’t quite figure out the purpose of it all.

Giving it up as a lost cause, Erich turns away, leaving Alexis to her investigations. Terraced rice fields are carved into the cliff nearby, and there’s a building set back from the rest of the village that he catches a whiff of alcohol from; somehow, he’s not surprised that this village has their own brewery. Something about it just feels… right.

Erich gives himself a shake and heads back to the stone path he’d been on. This time, though, he pays more attention to the houses that he passes, noting the repeated motif of wolf guardians, some with the same strange disk on their back, others without. All of the carvings are slightly different, but they all have the same feel to them, something pure-warm-protective that reminds him of lazing about in the sun on a warm day. It adds to, but also shields him from, the heady mix of power that blankets the entire village.

The closer he is to one of the carvings, the easier it is to think clearly.

(How strange…)

Alexis catches back up before he goes too far. There’s a pensive air to her now, and he wonders what she’s thinking; has she caught something about the village that he’s missed? Is she remembering something she’s heard?

He has no idea, and no way to find out until after moonset when they return to their human forms.

(Sometimes he really wishes they could communicate like humans even in their wolf forms.)

They keep moving, wending their way closer and closer to the steep hill and gigantic tree at the back of the village. The little bubbles of protection formed by the door guardians are welcome reprieves from the steadily building pressure all around them; how the humans of this village can live under this weight, this intoxicating atmosphere, he doesn’t know. Maybe they only can because of their guardians.

Maybe that’s the entire purpose of the guardians.

(But why wolves?)

(Is this a Quincy village?)

(But if so, why’s he never heard of it?)

Erich briefly considers turning away before discarding the idea; there’s something strange about this quiet village, something that makes him want to know more, and… he feels like the answers are atop that hill.

If they can just make it up there—

There’s another statue at the base of the path up the hill. It is, of course, yet another wolf with the same strange disk on its back. This time, the statue is set up on a platform, the wolf curled up with its tail tip over its nose, clearly asleep.

There are offerings at the base of this one as well; there’s a small plate of what smells like cherry cakes, a strangely shaped turnip, a vase with some cherry blossoms in it, and what looks to be a dog treat with a piece of paper tied around it. It’s an odd mix to be sure, and he’s uncertain why most of those would be left, but… it’s probably a cultural thing.

(If he ever finds this village when he’s a human, maybe he’ll ask.)

He and Alexis share a look, and he jerks his muzzle at the path up the hill, wondering if she’s up to exploring further. He hopes she is, but… if she says no, he’ll swallow his curiosity and follow her lead.

(After all, she wasn’t the one who almost lost herself to the village’s power while they weren’t even inside the village…)

(She probably has a better grasp of the dangers than he does.)

Alexis stares at the path, then tips her head back to look at the tree soaring over their heads. It’s the source of the blossom-pink power, Erich knows, because from this distance he can see the way it radiates out, spreading like the branches of a tree to shade the entire village. The dawn-red power is up there too, but it’s not the tree. He doesn’t know what it is, but he’d like to find out if at all possible. It feels… important. Somehow.

She whuffs, tired-amused-accepting, and trots a few paces to stand at the base of the path, under the free-standing gate. She glances back at him, ears swiveling in her equivalent of a ‘well? Come on!’

Erich casts one last glance at the shrine then bounds forward, setting his paws on the first wooden step and beginning the trek up the steep hill. There are more cherry trees lining the path up, their branches stretching over his head, all of them in brilliant bloom. There are soft petals beneath his paws, and every so often another one drifts down.

There’s something almost magical about it all, something precious in a way he’s almost hesitant to disturb, but the dawn-red and blossom-pink power beckon him onward. So he climbs, Alexis at his side and his senses muddled by unknown power; a distant part of his is aware that this isn’t right, that he’s been caught by whatever it is that inhabits the area, but… he can’t bring himself to care.

He pauses when the path splits, looking between the two options, then turns to the left and continues his climb. This is the way he needs to go. He knows it is.

Alexis keeps pace with him, her shoulder brushing against his every so often, their steps in sync. She’s a steady, comforting presence at his side, though he can tell that even she is starting to become affected by the sheer weight of power they’re approaching.

There’s another gate at the top of the path, pale silver in the moonlight, and as they step through it the world… changes somehow.

Erich pauses, sweeping his gaze across the area, trying to pin down exactly what changed, but… everything feels almost the same. It’s… disorienting. Like the world is a half-step sideways of what he’s used to, but he just can’t figure out how.

Alexis gives a full-body shake and whines softly, clearly perturbed by whatever happened, but she doesn’t step away. If anything, she presses closer, leaning into his side until he’s forced to lean back or get knocked over.

There’s another wolf statue up here, Erich notes, the plinth tucked against several of the tree’s large roots. It’s the source of the dawn-red power, but how that can be he doesn’t know. A tree is one thing — spiritual power exists in all living things, after all — but a statue?

He takes a step closer in curiosity; the dawn-red power feels too alive to be simply gathered and converted by the statue, but how that’s possible he doesn’t know. What he does know is that it feels good, feels safe-warm-kind like the wolf carvings in the village below but so many times stronger that it’s dizzying.

The ground by the statue looks inviting.

He feels… tired.

Alexis yawns.

He yawns.

They stumble forward together. Settle into a hollow between statue and tree.

They’re asleep before Erich can think better of this decision.