The woman lead him through the main halls of the temple, the main shrine, and past the hall of memories. There was very little light entering the temple through the slim shafts of paper panelled windows, especially since it was now snowing outside, so the insides were of vibrant red and brown colours, lit up by torches, lanterns and candle light alone.
She lead Halatir down some steps in to a section of the temple that was carved in to the mountain itself, in to a natural and now artificially supported tunnel system of hot springs, where Ayro, along with some other monks further away, was bathing in the hot and murky waters. Relaxed, and utterly without worries, he was laid back, his face turned upwards, with cucumber slices upon his eyes.
‘‘Master Ayro. Your white haired friend is here looking for you.’’ the woman spoke, and Ayro lifted his head, and took off the cucumbers.
‘‘Oh?’’ he whelped unsuspectingly, but his tone swiftly turned cheery, ‘‘Oh! Yes, come come. You must join me!’’