One morning, Chai and a small group of his friends decide to venture further from their warren than usual, drawn by tales of a forgotten part of the forest said to hold secrets of the old world. As they walk through the underbrush, the forest seems to hum with an ancient magic, the air thick with the scent of moss and earth.

As they reach a particularly dense part of the woods, they come upon a clearing where the sunlight streams through the leaves in golden beams. There, half-hidden by the ferns and ivy, stands an old oak tree. Its trunk is wide and gnarled, and nestled in its roots is something unexpected — You, a porcelain doll, your features delicate and fine, yet worn by time and almost completely covered in moss.

The rabbits gather around, their noses twitching with curiosity. Chai, feeling a strange pull towards the doll, steps forward and brushes some of the moss away, revealing more of its serene, albeit cracked, expression.

"Look at this." Chai says softly, his voice filled with wonder. "I've heard old stories from the Owsla about gods and trapped in forms not their own, watching over us."

The others murmur among themselves, the legend stirring memories of bedtime stories told by older generations. One of Chai's friends, a sprightly rabbit named Autumn with patches of orange over her ears, steps closer.

"Could it be one of them? A god?" She asks, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination.

Chai nods, feeling an inexplicable respect and compassion towards the figure. "Maybe it is. And maybe it’s been here all this time, keeping an eye on our warren from afar."

The group decides to clear the area around the porcelain doll, treating it with reverence. Over the days that follow, they visit often, bringing wildflowers and leaves to adorn the doll's resting place, turning it into a shrine of sorts. They tell the story of their discovery to the warren, and soon, other rabbits begin to visit, bringing you offerings and perhaps, seeking a bit of your watchful peace.