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You don't remember the last time it had snowed. Actually, you were sure you've never seen snow before. At least not like this- you've seen it in illustrations showcasing mountains on maps, their snowy peaks stained white in what the Lamb once described as soft and powdery. "Snow" had been a word you've only seen used in old records, faded with age. Symbols and names just about lost to time. Ancient books recovered from the Old Faith, when it was still thriving, were just about useless. Being exposed to the elements and pillaging tended to do that to unattended records.
Even the books kept in the archives offered little information- mostly keeping track of important disciples in the past. Important events; the fall of Bishops long forgotten and cults lost to time. Vague descriptions of twisted faces and gnarled bodies weren't what you were looking for… though it did sound interesting enough to save for later.
Seasons was a term you were aware of, but it was one you never had to use until recently. The weather in these lands was consistent year round, the closest one could get to a difference was traveling to the more extreme locations.
Darkwood was humid- thick foliage trapped heat and moisture, a perfect breeding ground for the more bug like creatures that tended to inhabit the domain. There was always moss growing somewhere, and oftentimes a pair of hungry eyes glared at anyone who dared get too close.
Anura was cold. Not freezing, but it was enough to pull a shiver from your spine whenever you were sent through it's warm golden forests to forage for mushrooms. It always felt… spooky… not quite scary, no. Silk Cradle was scary. It was cold, too. Freezing, you could never linger for long in its cave-like biome without bundling up nice and warm.
Anchordeep was pretty, so long as you didn't pay too much attention to the shadows in the water. It was cold, too. It was damp and in some places humid- Silk Cradle was bone dry. You weren't sent to Anchordeep often… you never thought you'd be more grateful for being born without gills.
But just about everything outside of the four domains? It was pleasant. Warm. But not hot. Just right to keep the farms going and harvest whenever the plants natured and bore fruit of your labor. Actually it was quite nice working out in the farm once you got past having to tear up the ground for the roots.
At least it was before it started raining.
And raining.
And raining.
You swore it rained for weeks, and by the time it decided to let up the temperature dropped. Fast. Perhaps not a total plummet from a pleasant day to bone chilling frost, but it was quick enough to sow panic and confusion in the flock, cultists young and old were left in disarray at the sudden change.
And change was hard.
The new arrivals that settled into the flock many moons ago brought about a lot of change and tension. You were even assigned one of them- the second to join the flock.
A large bushy worm looking creature who introduced himself as Leshy. He had said his name like he was someone important, someone to be respected.
He had an odd name but you didn't dare say it to his bandaged face, the fresh wrappings already beginning to stain with fresh gore as he rattled out demand after demand.
Leshy still made demands, but he'd become more… subdued with time. It never stopped but he became just slightly more bearable when he opted to use long grass collected from Darkwood to replace his bandages… and he had stopped bleeding, too. Even began to bloom flowers.
The worm wasn't the easiest, but you'd take him over the brooding cat and seething frog. The spider on the other hand… actually looked pleasant. At least they didn't cause a ruckus or scene.
At least then you could focus on the book you managed to nab from the archives before the snow really started to fall, trapping you and the worm inside your shared cabin. Leshy… didn't like being stuck in one place for long, and with it being so cold, he refused to tunnel into the snow.
"The Lamb said they've got the more furrier cultists clearing out walkways, they should be getting to our corner of the grounds soon," You tried to reassure the worm as you shut the book.
The group of newcomers looked weird, but surprisingly they weren't the first batch of oddballs who have joined the flock; Saleos, Zepar, Barbatos were a few of the names that caught your attention. A lot of the early cultists in the flock were actually, as the book called them, refugees from the Lands of The Old Faith. Anchordeep, Anura, and Darkwood were their respective homes before the Lamb kindly let them seek shelter.
Cracked open skulls with teeth, bubbling golden boils- and interestingly enough for Saleos, they were described with a third eye on their forehead. Where the other two could be chalked up to flesh wounds, Saleos… had extra parts- just like the newcomers.
Odd.
It was also fitting that Saleos prior to their passing was in charge of the archives. Having an extra eye must have made reading easier for them.
"I believe they also said they plan to make arrangements with Berith to craft winter clothing for us all,"
Scratching against the cold stone floor followed by a drag and the noise of your poor bed creaking under the enormous weight of the worm.
"They should invest in more blankets." Leshy hissed as he crammed himself under all of the bedding he could find in the cabin, bundling himself up as tight as he could- long black claws curling around his tail to keep it from flopping back onto the floor.
You nearly felt bad for him.
"Once they dig the door out from the snow I'll get some more," The book was neatly pushed to the side of your desk. "This cold must be extra rough on you,"
The comment was mostly for yourself, but he still chittered and clicked his teeth in response. Or maybe that was just another shiver.
You watched as his claws tugged your blankets closer… just your blankets. Leshy never invested in getting his own bed, instead resorting to digging a hole in the corner of your room to make a nest for himself with whatever he could find outside- you weren't… fully thrilled about it, but he outright refused a proper bed or cot. It had to be a burrow, even if a shallow one. The burrow in question was frozen solid from the chill outside- and what dirt was exposed felt solid to the touch to your fingers when you let curiosity take over and prod at the soil.
"It's not enough…" He muttered as the tips of his claws threatened to punch new holes into the weaved silk.
"Well I warned you to grab some quilts while we still could before the snow really started to come down, and you know I've been busy trying to help prepare the food stores for the winter,"
Winter.
A new word. Learned from the spider when the first snowflakes started to fall. The glassy look in their eyes clear for the moment, fangs clicking thoughtfully as their assigned caretaker- they were well behaved enough to not warrant the term babysitting- tried to coax them back inside before the biting cold could do any more damage to their old joints.
How could someone look so ancient and youthful at the same time? It was the eyes, and the way they carried themselves. None of them were young in the way the children and teens of the flock were- they looked eternal, just as the Lamb did. Ethereal might've been a better word. And yet, dirty. Sinful. Maybe not from Shamura but the way they talked about the leader left a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach.
"…What was that?"
Leshy had said something, and you had been too caught up in your train of thought that you had completely missed it- something that definitely rustled a few leaves on the back of his neck. Branches… antlers…? Whichever sent rattling- creaking and old. What you could only akin to bark groaned with the movement.
"And be seen wandering around with…" Leshy's teeth gnashed together before a seething breath hissed through the pointed tips. His hand found the grass wrappings around his head- things changed again when he began to wear them in place of his bandages.
Things became easier.
He stopped bashing the Lamb- at least stopped doing it as often. He was still cold- still… spiteful. But it felt more like a begrudging respect.
Something had happened between the two when he asked the Lamb to take him to Darkwood, and you weren't invited to come with. In fact, you were told to stay behind on the grounds.
It was the first time since Leshy's arrival that you hadn't been at his side, and it was the only time since- ignoring the times he had attempted to run off and burrow through the dirt to evade your watch. Even now, he rarely ever did that.
"I'm not going to stop you if you decide to try to dig through the snow yourself, odds are they probably already have some soup started in the kitchen-" You settled yourself on the edge of the bed- soft… nice and soft, full of cotton grown from the farms before they withered and decayed for the season. You couldn't help the way your hands squished against the quilt stretched over the top. It might not have been the prettiest but it was yours, given from the Lamb themselves for taking on the task of being Leshy's keeper.
Sometimes you still wondered why they picked you in particular. Maybe there wasn't a method, and you just happened to be the best choice in the moment. Either way…
"…though I think I used the last of our tea leaves yesterday to warm you up after your last attempt to tunnel through," You knew he couldn't see the lopsided grin stretched across your face, but he must have heard the snark in your words.
You would have continued if the weight of the bed didn't suddenly shake and wobble under his weight, the worm using the natural dip to his advantage to bring you as close to his side as he could with all the blankets wrapped tight around his frame.
Surprisingly strong. He looked long thanks to the way his neck bundled and stretched at his shoulders, and the long tail really pushed the lanky build at first glance… but he was broad and strong. Powerful forearms broke forth through the quilt instead of the earth they had grown accustomed to, and claws meant to break through the rock looped around your shoulder- careful, deliberate, mindful to keep from slicing open the flesh of your arm- for a dumb moment you contemplated if he'd give crochet a shot, his claws could outright replace the hooks if he let them grow out a little more. He could even make himself his own winter wardrobe, make as many sweaters and scarves and anything else that he may want.
Leshy's body was as cold as the room, and his leaves- which had lost some of its vibrant green color with the change in climate- felt frail and brittle against your body. Some shed and fluttered pathetically through the air to the stone floor.
Yellow splotches, much like the markings that took over the crops when they started to die off at the temperature change. Thankfully Leshy still had more than enough foliage to hide any bald spots… for now… you weren't exactly sure how long a season was meant to last.
What if the snow never stopped, and this was to be your new normal?
The flock wouldn't be able to survive without new crops.
He shivered.
Leshy always twitched and jerked, you don't think you've seen him go an entire sermon without letting some movement slip- but this felt different.
One didn't need to be a genius to know he was freezing. Cold weather aside, he was still a worm- a bug, cold blooded.
…Did worms count as bugs?
"So is this your plan, then? Steal my body heat?" You teased, but your heart wasn't fully in it. A hand latched itself to the edge of the blanket as you tried to gently pry it from his iron hold.
He didn't let go. "You know you'd be more successful if I were in the covers with you,"
A string of mumbled chittering, before he reluctantly revealed himself to the cold draft. You really needed to get the make shift burrow patched when you got the chance… and compromise on his sleeping situation.
More leaves against your body, some crinkling and crunching under your weight as you pressed flat against him- you even offered to let him crawl under your arm, an offer he took after you pat his shoulder with your hand- forgetting he couldn't see the limb stretched out wide for him to slink under.
"Careful-" He hissed as more leaves slipped off of his body. You both moved to sweep them out and onto the floor to deal with later. "They're not growing back,"
"Nothing's growing back right now, it's too cold," You mumbled. "…You're not going to go bald are you?"
He elbowed you. Barely. Hardly enough to knock you an inch away from him; not worth the risk to lose out on any heat even if just for a second- and he was greedily soaking it in as he melted and morphed perfectly against your form like he didn't have a single bone in his body.
…The worms you found in soil didn't have bones, so did he?
"Maybe I could ask Julty if they've got something for you, you don't mind them- right? You two get along right?" You mumbled as you settled your head somewhere under Leshy's curved jaw, doing your best to ignore the faint tickle of his crisp leaves against your forehead. "I think they've been looking into ways to salvage what crops we have left,"
Not that there'd be anything to save now with at least a foot or two of snow blanketing everything. The poor guy was probably crushed knowing all their efforts were in vain- how could they have predicted this?
"The cat is tolerable." Leshy finally gritted out through his sharp teeth, clutched tight from the cold instead of any irritation- for the most part.
You purse your lips together. "I think it's nice you have friends asides from me,"
Actually none of the newcomers really had many friends, they kept to themselves for the most part. They talked to each other, of course. At least four of them did. The cat of the group never lingered close enough for conversation.
You tried to ask Leshy once when he was still new to the flock. The seething hiss he gave in return was enough to keep you from asking ever again.
"I was starting to think you hated cats, actually,"
"You're pushing it," You heard his jaw click sharply against your ear- the urge to call you the usual names he stuck to, none ever truly derogatory or demeaning… condescending for sure. His throat flexed against your temple before stilling, choosing to not address you as anything.
Progress was progress, and you'd take that change with open arms.