At the street corner nearby, a bonfire blazed, crackling away.
Ruger strolled unhurriedly through the familiar streets, his steps as steady as ever. His canine head turned from side to side as he enjoyed the festive atmosphere, the firelight shining in his eyes. He looked around but found nothing unusual. As for this flutter of unease, he had experienced it a few times since becoming a Wizard Apprentice. One relatively recent occasion that stood out was when he had gone outside the shop with Uncle Lunse to give their regular offering of blood during the Blood Sun anomaly in Burning Blood City.
Just before the Blood Sun demanded blood, he seemed to have been lying on the little bed in the attic, gazing up at the Blood Sun overhead. The feeling that struck him at that instant had made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end.
In short, a quick look back through his memories told him that those flutters of unease had not all heralded bad things, but none had brought anything good, either.
Ruger rubbed his chin.
If this was a creature's instinct, a stirring of spirituality, then his spirituality ought to be a little stronger now than it had been during his apprenticeship.
He could not help thinking of another kind of Spirit Fur cultivation, those little things that could serve as assistants. Perhaps successfully cultivated spirit-siphoning fur could pick up some clues. They were more sensitive to spirituality.
Ruger strode along. The great God of Spirit Fur, Stray Hair One, had already led the Spirit Furs up onto his body. This was what he called all furs returning to their places. Together with his newly grown fur, the Spirit Furs brought back into place through his Fur Shepherd abilities made his coat