The goddess's mood had only continued to sour upon her return to the hotel. First she had left on a bad note (at least in her mind), and when she had been dropped back into the hotel while on her way to Nippon to finish some important business, she had been embarrassed in front of someone important to her. Now she was trapped in an outfit she hated
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"Daughter." She was not a god of the brush, but a child of the earth. Ammy could smell the scent of the woods that clung to her, of the trees and grasses, the creatures there. The scent of home was a small comfort in a cage so large. This young wolf mother was far, far away from the woods she protected, as far from them as Amaterasu was from the Celestial Plains.
Do they have no shame in keeping the gods from their work? Surely it must be so. Shifting on her perch, she scratched between Moro's ears, then pulled another apple out of the folds of her jacket to offer her. It was not much Ammy knew, but she also knew she didn't have any fresh meat on her. She wondered how long Moro had been within the walls of the hotel. Too long, if her nose did not lie.
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