Hallucination Caves Altar

The nearly-a-yearling had crafted the dice carefully from scrap bone.  They weren't quite perfectly weighted, no.  He'd kept track of the side that came face up most often, and ensured that was the side he carefully inked with six little black dots.  A pair of dice that were a little more likely to be lucky than not, there was no harm in that.  They were a gift, anyway.  He'd bring them to the same altar that he'd decorated earlier, the one that now wore his wreath.  Tate couldn't help but be proud of that, after all.  As neatly as the child could, with his clumsy paws, he made a little pouch with a long cord.  It was dyed leather, a rich purple that he'd been able to come up with, mixing indigo with some of the red berries that grew around the Bay.  It had come out nicely, and Tate was pleased with his work.  

Softly, the young boy looked up to the statue.  It was a long moment, a curious one.  Incredibly curious, though he doesn't have the words to ask any of the questions that float around in his head.  Tate slipped the pouch off his own neck and wound the cord carefully before setting it at the feet of the altar.  A little purple pouch with two lucky dice, it seemed like a good offering, at least in Potato's young mind.  

"Potato"