He woke up with a mighty yawn and scratching his ear. Early morning light seeped through the window and over his snout. He hauled himself up onto all four paws and easily leapt over the pile of chewed on bones to leave the small bare room and go down the short hall. His blunt claws made sharp tip-tap sounds on the old wooden floor as he turned a corner and moved to a room with an open door. He stuck his head inside to peek on the sleeping red haired girl. Thanks to Lin she was doing so much better. Her flesh had taken some color to it and her cheeks had filled out. She was actually quite a round faced little girl.

Resisting the urge to get closer he turned away from the room and went to the small kitchen outside. When the small temple had originally been built, Lang Lang had not considered adding a kitchen since he never needed to cook. But after he started taking children in he eventually built an almost-kitchen outside with the help of some of the villagers. Even after the temple expanded, he just ended up building around the kitchen.

It probably was not one of his smarter architectural design decisions.

He stood up on two feet, putting his hands on his hips as the cool morning air brushed past his skin and carried with it the scent of the fields that surrounded the town. It would be time to harvest the millet soon, he thought idly. He considered that it would be a good activity to do with the girl for a brief moment until his mind conjured up images of what would happen if he actually put anything sharp in her hands.

Lang Lang yawned and got to work on making breakfast for the tiny sleeping girl while he thought about what they would do today. Harvesting any of the early matured millet was out of the question, laundry was already done, and he had already restocked the food stores for the temple. Zhu'er did not eat much when he first got her, but now she consumed food at a frightful rate.

“Ah!” He clapped his hands together above a pot of flavorless mush he called porridge. “We can go fishing!” Lang Lang smiled. The fish in the nearby river had been growing plump recently and having fish for dinner later on struck him as an excellent idea. Zhu'er could catch the fish, while he would gut them.

The quickly forming plan brought a spring to his step as he finished cooking and took a bowl of porridge with him back inside the temple as the wind whistled behind him.

He paused on the threshold for a moment to sniff the air. A clean scent like fresh laundry or good water drifted on it. He smiled and walked down the hall.

Slipping back into the girl’s room, he crouched down beside her and gently shook her with one hand. She grumbled and swatted at him but he continued to gently shake her until she finally sat up with bleary eyes.

“Good morning!” Lang Lang said while holding out the bowl.

Her eyes widened and she quickly seized the bowl from his hands to begin eating. He laughed softly and sat beside her to gently stroke her curly red hair. As she noisily ate he thought about how much she really did come off as like a starved puppy sometimes. Hungry and defensive of food and herself. The language barrier was also difficult. But lately she had begun speaking in short sentences. Not often and she understood much more than she spoke, but any sign of progress was something he took heart in.

“Zhu'er would you like to go fishing with me?” He asked her after she finished the bowl.

She blankly stared at him.

“Fishing!” He repeated. He mimicked holding a fishing pole and casting its line a few times. Slowly her mouth curled into a smile and she laughed. “...Well I’m happy you find that funny,” he smiled back at her. “But I hope you understand what I’m trying to ask you!”

“Fishing!”

He beamed at her, “yes! Fishing! We’re going to fish!” He stood up and ruffled her hair, “I’m going to go look for fishing poles, you go find your shoes.”

By the time Lang Lang found a fishing pole inside the temple, the sun had crept further up over the horizon. There was only one fishing pole so he had managed to locate a broken spear that he faintly recalled pulling from the hand of some intrusive immortal some time ago. While much of the wood had been gnawed down there was still enough to use to spear fish. He plonked it into a large basket he had found sitting overturned in another room.

He gave Zhu'er the fishing pole which was only a little taller than herself and she held it awkwardly against her chest as they went to the main room of the shrine. Lang Lang stopped in front of the statue of his departed mistress and swept some of the dust from its feet before rearranging some of the offerings to sit more neatly.

Then they were off, walking down the town’s road together as the gentle sun warmed them.

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“The weather is really nice today!” He smiled as he held Zhu'er’s hand in his own. People were already beginning to trickle onto the roads. Either heading to the fields or opening their businesses. Distantly an ox let out a loud groan of protest about something.

“Rabbits!” Zhu'er pointed towards several quick footed hares dashing off towards the fields. She stumbled, dropping the fishing pole and only staying upright because of his grip on her hand. Lang Lang bent down to pick up the fishing pole and hand it back to her.

“Be careful, I know it’s exciting to see cute things but you might get hurt if you trip,” he said as he stood back up. The wind picked up lightly and he took a deep breath of the sweet air. The good water scent was back again. Stronger now.

It came from the fields.

He looked back down at Zhu'er. “Go on without me. I will be there soon!” He said. “Just don’t play in the water!”

She slowly nodded after a moment and then walked away towards the river with the fishing pole clutched carefully to her chest so it would not skid against the ground.

He turned on his heel and walked towards the fields, the smell of ripening millet only barely overpowering the other scent. The golden stalks waved carefully in the wind and Lang Lang could hear the voices of farmers in the distance. He sniffed again, turned along a short well trodden path to a place where the millet had grown unusually tall.

An old woman sat on the ground, her legs tucked up under her grey robe and her faded hair piled up into a messy bun on her head, locks of silver falling haphazardly from it. In front of her were bone chips that withered hands played with like dice. The fragrance had been coming from her. Lang Lang smiled, but inside his hackles raised. He knew everyone in town, the entire place had been swaddled in a maze curse he had carefully worked on, and most certainly Sister Hua would be coming back from her rounds at night and have noticed the woman too. Still he remained cordial. “Hello auntie! What are you doing down here?”

She was silent for a long time, the wind and the clinking of bone chips all the noise around them. Then she took in a deep breath and sighed heavily. “Well, I was walking for a long time and I felt good energy in this area, so I decided to sit for a bit. Hopefully that’s no trouble to you?”

He shrugged and set down the basket with the spear in it. “It’s not really troubling me where you’ve decided to sit.”

“Then I thank you for your kindness. As a fortune teller, I tend to get run out of town sometimes,” she shook her head. “All because I tell people the answers for the questions they ask.”

“Really, I’m more impressed you got through my maze!” He laughed. “That’s quite a feat for a ‘fortune teller’, auntie!”

Her fingers paused above the bone chips. “You don’t think I’m a fortune teller, do you?”

“Let us say I have a good nose.”

“I’d expect nothing less from the Lord of Hounds, Devourer of Five Hundred Immortals.”

He raised his brows but he did not stop smiling, “that’s a stupid title. Just call me Lang Lang. And I haven’t eaten five hundred immortals yet.”

“The gods like even numbers,” the so-called fortune teller shrugged. She turned her wrinkly face towards him, jade colored eyes staring up at him. “I… have an offer for you. I know you tire of being harassed by the heavens.”

Finally his smile vanished as he stared down at her. “Any spirit knows that.”

“Your honesty is well known and respected, as well as your compassion. For all your power, you choose the simple form of a farmer.” The fortune teller spoke. “I have heard you have a grander one, one you choose to not use since you have no ambition for crown or glory.”

“I’m old. I have many forms. This one and the dog one suits me,” he shrugged. “I want to know what you’re trying to get at auntie.”

“We can stop the assaults from the gods on you and your people.”

Stopping the random appearances of immortals and minor gods and heroes baying for his blood was something Lang Lang long dreamed of. All he wanted to do was care for his people and create a bit of goodness in the wicked world as his mistress once wished to do. But looking into the jade eyes of the fortune teller he could see nothing in them that would promise him such a future. They looked empty, like endless cold pits. “So you are the one who sent the malformed immortal to me?”

“Perhaps.”

“And who is… ‘we’?”

“An association of fellows with certain desires,” she explained. “Immortality, revenge, power. These are just some of the unifying traits we have. We have a vast amount of resources at our disposal. If you join us, it means we are that much closer to our shared goals.”

Lang Lang watched the fortune teller fiddle with her bone chips as her withered face gazed out beyond the lines of sprouting millet. Silence filled the space between them like water in a vase, overflowing to consume the sound of the wind and the gentle rustle of stalks. Then he slowly smiled at her, eyes narrowing. “I think you should leave, auntie.” He said, his sharp teeth bared in a false grin.

“Should I?” She replied, not turning to meet his gaze. “After such a generous offer?”

“You have the stink of a celestial on you,” Lang Lang answered through his toothy sneer. “I don’t make deals with your kind. Get out before I eat you.”

“Ah such big and dangerous words for a stray dog,” the fortune teller sighed while shaking her grey haired head. “I will leave as you request, Lord of Hounds.” She slowly got up far more fluidly than an elderly woman should and her voice was young and light. She twisted around suddenly, her body fluttering into pieces of grey cloth that faded to white before scattering to the winds.

Sniffing the air, Lang Lang growled softly before rubbing his nose to try removing the remaining offending scent from it. “At least she left without making a mess,” he muttered assuringly to himself. If that so-called fortune teller was able to find him, then that meant any immortal or god could just stroll into town for his head. “...We have to move,” he sighed. He picked the basket back up and began to walk towards the river. There was a worm of worry in his chest from more than just the fortune teller’s appearance.

As he walked, he began to remember rumors from when he was buying honey millet and his jaw twisted briefly into a snarl.