Reigen inhaled a deep breath. The air was clear, salty, and sure it smelled like livestock but it was nostalgic. He had grown up around plenty of farms after all. Vento trotted past but never strayed too far from the group.

Father Serra was still pretty spry even in his age with how he got around and Reigen hoped he would age as gracefully. ‘Though with my lifestyle? Not looking likely.’ The man had gotten up early just to chop a bunch of veggies past their prime in a wheelbarrow and haul them along for the trip, with Doppio’s help. It was all just so Chid could make a good impression on the goats.

“Palm out flat…let them come to you,” the priest patiently instructed the small boy. A few of the goats had already taken an interest in the lettuce and potatoes Chid had in his palm.