Many of the druids looked up at Father Heron's approach. Most of them would have simply nodded and looked away if not for the naked skeleton just behind and beside him. Instead, they all expressed surprise, some even expressing outrage. One druid failed to realize that Father Heron had deliberately led the undead to them, and shouted a warning.
"Look out, Father! Behind you!"
Father Heron smiled kindly and gestured broadly with his hands, calling silently for everyone's attention.
"Don't be afraid. I found this skeleton mindless and wandering, preserving nature by sheer habit. In the spirit of reclamation, I have imbued him with a mind and the power of speech. It is my hope that you will accept him as your brother, just as you have accepted each other."
Rattles, for his part, was largely ignorant of the implications of the clueless druid's warning. He simply bowed, trying to respond to Father Heron's words. He spoke, trying to seem friendly. "I hope that I can be everything Father Heron hopes."
Some among the gathering recognized the bow as being a specific kind of bow that belonged to a far-off and long-dead culture, and were startled. Others were put off by the way that his polite tone and sincerety clashed with their expectations of the behavior of the undead. The result was an awkward silence from the circle at large.
After a moment, the same voice that had issued the warning spoke again, its owner stepping forward.
"How can we be sure of this thing's intentions?" The druid was Jershon, a rough-and-tumble human clad in rabbit and wolf furs. He had scars nicking his body in several places, and a fire in his eyes. "We lost so many to creatures just like it. And you ask us to just accept it as one of our own?"
Father Heron looked to the rest of the circle. They mostly avoided his gaze, their silence giving weight to Jershon's words. To be fair, it was true. Their battle with Malost the Lich had left deep wounds on many of their hearts, and most of them felt that Father Heron was asking for far too much.
Seeing this, Father Heron sighed. "My flock. He is not like the darkness we fought and yet still fight. He speaks, and thinks, and reasons. I have given him everything he needs to be one of us. Please, let his presence be something that allows your hearts to heal. At the very least, if you must be angry, be angry at me, for electing to give him true life and bring him among us. That, at least, was my decision, and not his."
The members of the circle reluctantly nodded or otherwise affirmed their assent, except for Jershon. He instead stepped forward, standing before Rattles, who was still bowing. Jershon crouched to look the skeleton in the eye sockets, and spoke with a low voice. "I will respect Father Heron's word, for he is the strongest among us. But do not give me even one reason to even think of you when I don't want to. Do you understand?"
Rattles silently nodded. Truth be told, he didn't understand much, but he understood that for some reason, the human in front of him did not want to be his friend. He didn't get why, and he was actually kind of scared with how distant all the druids seemed to be, but he trusted Father Heron enough to try to do his best, anyways.
Satisfied with the turn of events, Jerston stalked off, his form flowing into that of a bear, covered with the same scars his human form bore. Father Heron sighed again as most of the rest of the circle awkwardly stood aside, reluctant to make the first move.
Rattles stood up from his deep bow and looked around. With everyone else hesitating, he decided to be the first voice.
"So, is shapeshifting normal around here?"
Rattles' naive question broke some of the ice, and caused a smattering of laughter to break out. The circle approached Rattles and explained to him, piecemeal and with many nostalgic stories, that among druids, allowing their forms to flow from one state to another was nearly as natural as sleeping or breathing. A heavyset dwarf jovially elbowed Rattles in the femur at that analogy.
"Not that breathing or sleeping comes naturally to you, eh?"
Rattles chuckled good-naturedly at the dwarf's joke. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew that the dwarf was right.
An elf went on a long tangent, detailing a time when the dwarf who'd elbowed Rattles had accidentally gotten cornered as a rabbit by a fox, causing a friendly tussle to break out as the dwarf and the elf changed into a wolf and a stag respectively.
Father Heron watched the group warm up to Rattles with pride. Most hung back, and a few had walked off like Jershon, but some of those being most welcoming to Rattles were those who had lost immediate family or close friends. He was very happy that they could set aside their feelings, and was hopeful for the future, seeing members among the circle so wise.
He didn't miss the frigid air that had surrounded him, though. Almost no one was looking his way, and he understood. Wise though his flock may be, they were still hurt at Father Heron's actions. He hoped that such a divide would fade with time. For now, though, he was content to watch as Rattles was welcomed warmly.