On a Morning Like This Chapter 12 Fr Mitrophan

 “Welcome to Mihael!” Father Mitrophan exclaimed to the Scrufflings as they approached through the arched doorways. Nonna introduced them by name. They bowed low in response.
The gentle, soft-spoken man took each paw in his hand and bowed in return. “We owe you our gratitude for your service to our daughter.”
With tears in her eyes, his wife, Pelagia, said, “Let us know your every need while you are here among us. We thank you for what you have sacrificed for Nonna.”
“How did you know of our coming?” woofed Pata Pikki.
“The Farmer Man told us of your approach,” responded Father Mitrophan.
“We have prepared a place of comfort with warm food and beds for you,” added the priest.
Not knowing what warm food was, the Scrufflings accepted eagerly. Food sounded delicious to the Scrufflings in any form, and a bed was most welcome; Pata-Pikki’s pack, for one, was the slimmer for their journey. Following their host and hostess, the Forest Beings proceeded along a path lined with tall trees.
“These are fruit trees,” Nonna explained. “The Farmer Man gave us small seedlings to start, and look what they have become!”
“The Narflbots destroyed his farm,” Father Mitrophan said.
“I did that!” Nonna cried out, tears flowing from her eyes.
“Partially, perhaps. I do not know. It was bound to happen. The Narflbots continually search for machines made before the Great Fire. They make everything from scrap machines,” Pelagia acknowledged.
The Scrufflings exchanged glances. They were familiar with the destruction that Narflbots brought with their machines. Abruptly, the way descended into a bright green valley. Thick-bladed grass grew for a long distance on either side. A tall bird approached, pulling a loaded cart, while the Wilding, who walked alongside, moved off the road for them. The Wilding greeted Father Mitrophan and his wife, sweeping his hat to the ground.
‘Bless Father,’ he said, making another low bow, holding out his hands for a blessing. Pata-Pikki’s eyes opened wide when the priest stopped and made the sign of The One Who Lives into the farmer’s cupped hands. Father Mitrophan beamed with joy. After they passed, the Wilding resumed his journey down the narrow road.
Pata-Pikki and Hoopy elbowed each other. The Wilding’s use of the “Secret Sign” was surprising. The tall bird neither spoke nor glanced at them, even out of curiosity. Mihael was an unusual place indeed.
Pata-Pikki whispered to Hoopy, “It is encouraging to see how they honor The One Who Lives.” Hoopy nodded in agreement.
“This fork takes us to the Temple of the one God.” Come this way, dear friends,” Father Mitrophan said. Turning down another path, they walked into a deeper valley. An enormous structure with large doorways, immeasurably tall walls, and shiny gold domes rose heavenward. Under each golden dome were decorative designs. Plant-like patterns of brilliant color and at the top was the Secret Sign itself, made from something golden. The Wildings made the Secret Sign on their chest. The Forest Beings had never seen such beauty in a home.
The pathway branched again, and soon the group walked in front of a row of cottages with grass-covered peaked roofs. The homes had brilliant patterning around doors and windows, and bright and colorful plant designs outlined the tops.
Hoopy whispered to Pata-Pikki, “The Wildings must feel safe to have their homes so exposed.”
 “Safe from the Narflbots.” Pata-Pikki nodded in agreement.
The group stopped in front of a small house at the end of the row. “This is your home, a place of rest for you.” Father Mitrophan bowed again and motioned towards the door.
The Scrufflings looked at each other in concern. Pata-Pikki stepped forward shyly. Bowing, he said, “Forgive me, Father Mitrophan, there beyond is a forest. We find that a familiar place. If we stayed there, it would be to our liking. Not that this wonderful place is not, but we are creatures of the forest.”
Father Mitrophan paused as if he was listening and then looked at the forest that lay outside of the small village. “Yes, I see. Of course! That is how the One has created you. We are different creatures. Your homes and places of worship of the One are in the forest. There are no Scrufflings in our valley, nor have we had contact with any. We have creatures here that are your close relatives, but not the same. Forgive us for our lack of understanding. Go to the forest and find homes for yourselves. Dig and burrow anywhere that seems good to you. Nonna, go into the house and get the raw vegetables and fruits. I think the forest will provide the other foods you will need.”
Nonna went through the cottage door and returned with a bulging bag which she put in Bar-thur’s paws. Flur-Ella gave a small woof of pleasure at being understood.
“We will gather this evening for the One.” Perhaps you will join us afterward and partake of the Feast. I think there are things you will find pleasing to eat. Samul will come here to fetch you at nightfall.”
Flur-Ella, speaking for all of them, bowed low and woofed, “It will be our great pleasure!”
“Thank you, dear friends, for the kindness you have shown me. I would not be here now if you had not risked lives and your homes for my safety.” Nonna embraced each of them in turn. 
Father Mitrophan held up his hand in the sign of the One and blessed them. They felt the Grace the priest imparted as if it were a warm blanket cast around them. Turning, they departed into the depth of the forest.

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