Kamiko's carriage rolls to a stop at the edge of a bunny-kin village nestled in the middle of a wide, fertile plain, late afternoon light stretching long and gold across acres of tilled fields, the whole settlement ringed by neat wooden fences and the low, contented hum of livestock settling in for the evening.
The air smells of turned earth and something baking somewhere nearby, sweet enough to carry all the way out to the road.
They're greeted almost instantly.
The entire village, it seems, turning out at once, delighted at the sight of Kamiko's carriages rolling in through the gate. Dogs bark somewhere off to one side, chickens scatter indignantly out from underfoot, and somewhere a bell starts ringing in a rhythm that's clearly meant to summon anyone still out in the fields, the sound carrying clean across the flat, open plain.
