[He doesn't feel particularly like a good little camper of any kind -- even if he knew how to camp, which he's learned a bit more about by now, he wouldn't be very good at it. Add this whole prayer thingamajig and everything else into the equation and honestly Lenka is just floundering his way around no matter what he's doing.

His brow wrinkles in a frown as he tries to recapture whatever his last thought was, but really -- he's no good at addressing himself to something divine. He can meditate, and he can focus singlemindedly to the exclusion of all else on the battlefield, but... He opens his eyes, but the frown stays, a little fainter.]

Ah, I don't know. I still don't really know what I'm supposed to be feeling. Should I be able to hear it?

[His only point of reference is the strange buzzing voice that's greeted them for nearly seven Mondays now.]