The Way-Priest
The way-priest of the rivers is not bound to temple or shrine. She stalks the creeks and trails, and she stalks them alone. A cloak is pulled about her head; these are always white, though most turn grey before long. A staff in the hand, a hammer or hatchet at the right hip, whiskey in the flask at the other, a smile on her creased and burnt face. She has pulled the drowning from the water, led the lost home, healed the sick, and delivered the children of the mountain-folk and the isolated forest-dwellers. In times past, she knows, her foremothers led the people through the Long Night; she treads their roads, and her only retirement will be among them.