There was something about the priest which was... Off-putting to Lucy. A quality she could not quite put her mental finger on. It was the same sort of feeling she got from crowds freshly emerging from church and, on the rare opportunity she knowingly got near such people, it had a way of setting her particularly on edge. There was no sight, sound nor smell which seemed in any way unpleasant about him, only...
A presence.
While Lucy said nothing, she was hanging back from the man, trying not to display her own inner discomfort. It was not registering in body language or expression, but she did remain watchful.
Hmmm... Was he responsible for their predicament? Was that why she felt such a way?
Lucy was too young and inexperienced to realise how the man's aura of faith was acting as a psychic barrier against her new nature. Something which, while derived from religious conviction, could be as powerful as any sorceror's spell.
"I'd suggest the chimney, but fear none of us are of a size liable to fit," she pondered, grimly. "I did smell something rather strong, upon enterin', though, mind you... Could've sworn it was fresh from the butcher's. S'gone now, but... I'll hunt around for some food, if any'd like to accompany?"
And, hopefully, find whatever the source for it had been.