Cultivating Spirit Furs was more than simply cultivating fur. The very emergence of hair and scales embodied living creatures' most primal desire for safety. As Ruger pondered this, he felt he had unwittingly gained a suit of armor that could withstand the scorching flames of both experiments and combat. And this armor, made up of an outrageous number of components, fit him perfectly-so closely that it hugged his skin.
Wave after wave of spiritual hairs lined up, counted themselves off, and stepped into the large oval tray. The solution they bathed in was steadily being consumed.
Ruger watched quietly, occasionally checking a few at random.
Stray Hair One was more cautious than Ruger had imagined. When the Spirit Furs born over the past few days jumped into the tray, Stray Hair One soothed them while having them pray all the way there. Even after entering the tray, they formed a circle and continued praying, maintaining the closest possible connection to their God of Spirit Fur.
Batch after batch maintained a record of zero casualties. Once they had all finished, it was the great God of Spirit Fur's turn to bathe in the solution personally.
The Spirit Furs gathered around the tray. When those that had only recently undergone spiritual awakening saw Stray Hair One about to leap in, they instinctively kept praying. The older Spirit Furs joined them, and gradually, all the Spirit Furs clustered together to pray for Stray Hair One. These simple-hearted little creatures swayed their tiny furry bodies from side to side, their voices rising in unison with an almost sacred quality.
Ruger was not worried about Stray Hair One. Nothing was ever completely certain, but Stray Hair One was already strong enough.
In the end, Stray Hair One naturally lived up to everyone's expectations. This time,