Maelstrom Fanfic, no less!
For many years after, the tribes of the south reported seeing a small, harmless group of Northerners wandering ever further into the interior. They tell stories of all the things they've seen and hug just everybody, and can be identified by their distant cries of "ooh, what's that over there?"
One of the avians in the group tells fortunes, and talks affectionately about some Northern god called the Weaver. She's always, always happy to officiate at weddings, bonding ceremonies and other unions.
The other things all the reports agree on is that she's very happy.
One of the avians in the group tells fortunes, and talks affectionately about some Northern god called the Weaver. She's always, always happy to officiate at weddings, bonding ceremonies and other unions.
The other things all the reports agree on is that she's very happy.