The congregation grazed contentedly in the overgrown orchard, but Clever Hoof stood apart. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.
Pink Splotch lifted his snout, munching a windfall apple. “What now?”
“Well, Boar Briar’s sermons. Forbidding us things, like whatever’s in the buildings left behind by our departed protectors–”
Her friend recited, “Until Sow Thumb shall birth her New Brood: Behold! They shall unlock every door with new-made hands–”
“Yes, yes, but listen. Where did Boar Briar get his frock?”
The priest’s telltale black robe was nowhere in sight. Across the orchard, the door of the abandoned church stood wide open.
Author’s Note: If the departure of humanity leads to animals telling stories about the things we left behind, those stories could accumulate and aggregate into religions, complete with prophecies, origin myths, and taboos.