Beams of sunlight streamed in through the tent's many holes, illuminating the living area with a dull glow. The tent was small and barren, save for a small rucksack and a crumpled mess of blankets and bedrolls. Outside, a rooster crowed, loudly reminding everyone what time it was. The crumpled mess stirred. A small yet audible groan escaped the roll of blankets as a shock of salt and pepper hair emerged, followed by a pair of squinting brown eyes.
The rooster continued crowing repeatedly as the figure sat up completely, grumbling loudly.
"Alright, alright, I heard you the first time," He muttered, reaching for a shirt, "I swear, I'm going to kill that thing."
Mornings had always been rough for Dmitri, particularly cold mornings. An accumulation of year's worth of injuries, wounds and aches all assaulted him at once. He had often referred to them as little "reminders" to never make the same mistake twice. Hunched over painfully, he rummaged through his small rucksack, pausing long enough to occasionally curse his throbbing lower back.
Having found what he needed, Dmitri emerged out into the cool autumn morning and stretched fully, his eyes half shut and groggy. The sun had just crested the horizon, casting its orange rays over the many uneven rows of canvas tents and wide-spoked wagons. The few trees that dotted the landscape were covered with fiery red and yellow leaves, each languishing to hold on as winter approached. Having shaken the feeling of bleariness from his head, Dmitri's stomach growled loudly at the smell of baking bread. The smoke from dozens of small cooking fires drifted into the air as the inhabitants of 'tent city', as he called it, went about preparing their morning meals, mainly flat bread and a local variety of cheese that tasted suspiciously like rotten fish.
Overall, "New Kinder" the official name for the trading post, was very typical. It was quite a new settlement, having been built out of necessity as a military operations post, then converted to a post exchange for travelers and dealers in all kinds of wares. The settlement had quickly outgrown the wooden barricades that served as its original walls and was thriving, not only due to it's prime location as a go-between of major cities, but also due to it's rather unique history. Also unique to this post were the particularly strange type of travelers it attracted. That much was evident to Dmitri as soon as he had arrived at New Kinder.
Dmitri mused on that fact as he wandered through the tents, looking for a quite, open area to perform his morning routine. It seemed like New Kinder was home to denizens from all corners of Sanctuary. Nearby, an old woman from Kingsport admonished the children of a trader from Lut Gholein for teasing her cats. Next to them, a powerfully built Northman argued loudly with a young woman from Duncraig over a misplaced log of wood. Cultures and commodities clashed in a veritable economic storm. Lut Gholeinian pita bread was traded for exotic dried fish from the Kurasti's and even coveted steel blades from Harrogath were traded for finely shaped Amazonian bows. In the end, the traders all spoke the same language. Gold.
And then, there were the adventurers. Mercenaries, cowards and would-be heroes arrived in droves. The majority were fools chasing after hopeless dreams of treasure and fame. The Sister's allowed them into New Kinder, at first to aid in the reconstruction effort and then to fill the Sister's empty coffers with much needed resources. And that they did, drinking unfathomable amounts of spirits and spending large sums of money. Many adventurers arrived with idealistic goals and left with empty pockets and terrible hangovers. A few, like himself, actually had a purpose for being at New Kinder. Not that Dmitri much cared as he kept to himself for the most part.
After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Dmitri finally found an open spot on the grass and oriented himself east, facing the rising sun. Systematically, he began to arrange the items he had brought with him. He set his jug of water down and rolled his mat out in front of him. The mat was well-worn, the result of years of use. The flowing, complicated script on the mat had long since faded away. Dmitri then pulled a small, leather bound book from the folds of his brown robe, touched it to his forehead and set it down carefully upon the mat.
Satisfied that all was in place, he kneeled onto the mat and touched his brow to the ground. The cold earth pierced through the thin mat and caused a dull ache in his temples. Sighing, he began uttering a prayer that he had repeated every morning for the past 18 years.
"Praise be to the light, for it's infinite love and charity, through it all things are whole. Blessed is he walks the path of righteousness, faith and justice, for it is he, who shall enjoy the fruits of eternal paradise."
Dmitri continued his morning ritual of repeating the phrase and kneeling up and down in steady cadence. The praying man was so lost in his repetitious sacrament, that he almost missed the large, snow-white canine standing in front of him.
He paused and eyed the animal cautiously. The large, shaggy beast merely stared back at him, it's head cocked to the side, almost as if conveying curiosity. A low whine escaped it's throat.
"She wants to know what you are doing."
Dmitri cast an eye over at the voice and saw a tall, lanky fellow seated on a tree stump a few feet away from him. Tattered robes covered his emaciated frame as he nonchalantly combed through his tangled beard, looking bread crumbs. Another low whine came from the hound as she took a few steps toward him.
"She wants to know why you bob up and down like a sparrow," the man said, still looking for remnants of food in his dirty beard.
"Why do you care?" Dmitri asked tiredly as he struggled to place the man's face.
"Me? I do not care!" He laughed, showing his blackened teeth, "But I am not the one asking."
"The dog?" Dmitri asked, already guessing the answer.
"Yes, the wolf."
"The dog wants to know what I'm doing?"
The man nodded and scattered the bread crumbs from his beard onto the ground. Immediately, a small flock of ravens swooped in, cawing incessantly and fighting over the crumbs. Dmitri sighed as he remembered the man. Branded as a lunatic by most, the bedraggled man was seen doing a variety of odd things, such as having one-sided conversations with trees and even once, running amok through the camp, flapping his arms like a bird and squawking.
"You're insane," Dmitri said, continuing with prayers.
The man laughed hysterically as he stood to his full height and said, "Me? No, I am perfectly sane. I just listen more intently to the language of nature. You, my friend, are insane. Tell me, does He ever answer you?"
"Look…wolf man, my patience is wearing thin. Why don't you go speak to that large oak next to the smith? I'm sure it'll make for a much more riveting conversation. You know, away from here," Dmitri said, growing more annoyed by the second.
The wolf man frowned.
"Very well, I suppose I shall be leaving now. Come Brynn, the rude man wants us to leave," He said, walking away, the wolf trotting at his heels, "perhaps the oak will have more interesting things to say."
Dmitri cursed himself angrily, for having to deal with such stupidity, for being interrupted, but mostly for not being able to answer the man. Why did he do this every morning? Perhaps a younger version of himself would have answered the man with a tidal wave of quotes and parables, scripture and zeal, but nowadays, he found himself simply going through the motions.
He stared at the prayer book, as if seeing it for the first time and picked it up. The cover was made of leather, made rough from years of handling. The golden cross emblem had long since been rubbed off. Suddenly, he was overcome by the urge to throw it as far as he could and never see it again. He shook his head and merely placed it back into the folds of his robe. Taking a deep breath, he stood and realized that he had cut his prayers short for the first time in 18 years. The wave of guilt never came, and neither did the bolt of lightning that he was half expecting.
Perhaps he was insane after all.