Chapter 23, Wayfares, Memories, and Soft First Touches
***
“Enjoy what you have
Fore the end is always a surprise”
At least that is what Mother is always saying. Do you not agree?
Grant us yet another day…
***
Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D.20, Michéle
“Are you ready?” Odeza asked, nowhere to be seen. Michéle noted she was far more measured than before. Her soft voice even, not the defiant and commanding tones she used on their previous encounter. He wondered why, she didn’t strike him as the type to just switch like that.
Michéle steeled himself, he was never one for magic to be used on him. Not being the most fluent with the few spells he had, they always felt strained, never the effect he wanted. Taking a deep breath, “Ready or not, let's try this out.”
There was a tingle in his ear, as he heard Odeza whisper. “Think only about an imaginary line between you and the target. Focus,” The word echoed in his mind, forcing himself to do as she said, “it doesn’t take much. Just picture them in your mind, and speak.” He felt something, there really was very little to it. He pictured Lafayette in his mind, focused on a line between them. The pull on his middle ear was only slightly noticeable.
“Test, General Lafayette, can you hear me?” Michéle, eye’d Lucas sitting across the room. He was out of normal talking distance, they wanted to test to see how much of a hushed conversation they could have.
“Loud and clear, To be honest Lafleche, I didn’t think this would work.” There was a short pause, the old man being theatrically pensive, “But, instant communication over this distance doesn't seem real.” The older man's rough voice spoke. Michéle grinned like a child given candy on their birthday.
Odeza’s voice spoke to both of them, “Initiating secondary systems, you are going to want to brace yourself, I am about to make this permanent, I don’t want to have to sustain this indefinitely.”
“What do you mean permanent? He can hear anything he wants, whenever?” Lafayette asked, a quick but cold sweat as Michéle thought the same question.
“No, the acknowledgement still needs to be made, if you ignore it or dispel it, the connection will not work. Quit complaining.” Odeza drew out her statement, irritated.
Lucas jumped in his high backed chair. Startled, reaching up and rubbing the side of his face. He stared at the Chancellor, his face contorted in disbelief. Michéle assumed Odeza was speaking to him. He mouthed the word “Amazing”.
“Your Excellency, Lafayette reporting.” The message was sent to both Lucas and Michéle.
“So you could send it to multiple people, I suppose if you thought about command structure rather than a specific person, yeah that makes sense”, Michéle thought to himself, concentrating on keeping his private thoughts private. Though he noted that doing so made him not hear everything they were saying.
“Report, General.” Lucas spoke coolly.
“Delegation is due to arrive in Port De Renard in the next few weeks. They had to detour to the south of Estile due to a stalled hurricane. We have Vessels along the Ythry channel watching to guide them into port.” Lafayette spoke. Always was straight to the point, never minced his words. Terrifically efficient with his use of the Naval forces given to him.
“That's unfortunate, it would be better to guide them up the Eastern Channel straight to The Bay of Swallows.” Lucas’s calm voice echoed in Michéle’s mind, there was a slight static in the magic at the moment.
“My apologies, gentlemen. One moment.” Odeza spoke. The echoing died down almost instantly. A strain in his inner ear he hadn’t noticed suddenly vanished. “That should fix the interference.”
Lucas asked a question, one that had been on Michéle’s mind since this experiment started. “Can you explain what you just did? Also, how can we know that this information will stay between the parties contacted?”
“Without getting into specifics, the Song’s Afterglow interferes with all Wayfarer magic, thus it needs to have its frequency tuned to harmonize with it. Beyond that, I am the only one who can hear all this, and once we are done with this little test, you can hand me the list of the VIP’s you want connected, and It will be done. I won’t have any contact with this system until you need an updated VIP list.” She spoke quickly, like she was in the middle of something. Pausing halfway between her statements.
“I am going to pretend I know what that means. But, thank you for assuaging my paranoia. Lafayette, explain why it isn’t practical to have them come up the Eastern Channel.” Lucas responded.
“It’s not a matter of practicality at the moment, it's a chance. That hurricane can either turn north of the island or it can head south. North it stays on the southern shoreline of Huron. South it blocks the path of the Eastern channel. I am preparing solutions to both possibilities.”
“If it turns south then the channel is blocked from that angle and they would need to double back around the Island and come from the north, that would delay them by another few weeks.” The General belted out his answers. His years of reporting back detailed information showed through with the efficiency in which he spoke.
“Very well. Miss Odeza, how do you end the communication?” Lucas asked, looking up as if he were looking for her in the ceiling, quickly bringing his head back down, trying not to look like he just did that.
“Focus on the line, and break it. Again, it doesn't take much, that connection will stay there until you access it again, an infinite reuse.” She told them, still sounding as if she was in the middle of something.
Michéle did so, feeling like he just lost his balance for a moment, stumbling to his left where he caught himself on a table. He no longer felt that tingle in his ear though, Lucas already walking over to him, grin on his face. “I have my reservations, I wonder if she wasn’t lying to us, and she can listen in whenever she wants. That aside, this is a massive advantage.”
***
Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D.20, Halgier
“The boars didn’t like this light snow, their heavy coats hadn’t fully grown in yet. Moved to far south too quickly, I told Gjorn we were moving too fast.” Idle thoughts as I went from task to task. Re-shoeing the boar quickly, the precise hammer strikes not even jolting the animal.
I worked the thick fur of the beast so that their new coat would come in between the existing hairs, they would complain less anyway. The task was monotonous, a brutal repetition as their fur resisted the stiff brushes. Sweat beaded on my brow despite the cold air, as the smith Fyol came over asking for help.
The Fyol trying to fit a more durable armor to one of the War boars. The wily old thing squealing a storm, trying to shred anything that came near him with his tusks. I was just happy that the beast didn’t have the blades attached to the long ivory spokes. With a swift movement, I grabbed the beast by the tusks, with a quicker sharper motion I slammed it on its side.
I held it down as it squealed, the bellowing, ear piercing being this close to it. My muscles immediately started to strain from the exertion of holding down the much larger animal, it still tried to buck its head. Putting my beard over the animal's eyes, I bit it hard on the ear. Bellowing back into it. Sometimes you needed to put the older bulls in their place before they would cooperate.
Letting go of the tusks, it quickly got up. Looking about wildly, seeing me standing there, saxe readied to put it down if it charged. The old bull, putting its head down, slowly walked toward me, oinking softly. Sighing, I put the saxe away. Patting it gently on the head as it allowed Fyol to start putting the heavy metal plates on the beast's side.
“I’ll never understand the stones you have manhandling the’uckers like that.” Fyol said, buckling the belts down tight with a grunt. “I’ve seen these things on the ba’efield, and you just wrestle them like that.” His Mhuzelti accent, heavy even to my ears.
I laughed deep, my belly hurting from the chuckle. “Practice, I ha’ to help my Da catch these things as a boy. You learn quickly that asserting your dominance over them is a must, you just end up dead the second they don’t respect you.”
“Aye, fair point. I think they can tell the unease in meh sometimes.” Fyol commented as he fixed another plate on the boar.
Patting the beast on its side, a cocky grin on my face. “Aye, Da always said they were wise like that. Just need to work on your confidence, I’ll take you riding someday. Gives you a certain respect for them, and they know it.”
Fyol rolled his eyes “King and all, still just a normal Dwarf like the rest of us.”
Smacking him on the back, commenting. “Can’t lead from a pinnacle, have to be the boots on the ground like everyone else.”
“I ca’ appreciate that.” Fyol said, handing Halgier a set of tools. Without missing a beat, they worked to fix the rest of the plates on the boar.
“Why are they so much thicker?” I grunted, hammering a rivet into place where the articulation needed to be.
“Want to see if they ca’ take a few shots from the Galus arc’ guns they built. They don’t look like they’re using ‘lectricity, they look like something that just speeds up the shot, so I’m hoping the thicker plates ca’ dampen the recoil, plus I’m angling them so they ricochet rather than impact.” He answered.
“Wouldn’t this have been better as a stand alone test rather than on one of the Boars right now?” Setting the hammer down, crossed my arms and faced him, brow raised.
Fyol laughed, “I’m not plan’ on taking a shot at ‘em! I’m just seeing if they ca’ take the weight, if not I’ll have to make the angles steeper rather than bulk.”
Grunted my answer, turning I saw one of my vanguard running up to us. A younger man that had recently risen in the ranks. Rhin, bright faced, words leaving his lips before he even got close to us. “Stranger ou’ in the Ou’er Fields. One of the Sightless. Don’t know how he got pas’ the vanguard.” He was breathless by the time he stood in front of me.
“He’s sightless, I’m not surprised” Nodding my head to the ironclad mount, “Rhin, hop on the boar and bring him here. I’ve been meaning to speak with them since we got to Galus anyway.” Grabbing the young man by the crook of his arm, and flung him on the Boar we were armoring. A swift smack on the hind quarters of the beast, and it was off running, oinking with its deep baritone.
Fyol chuckled, as they watched the young vanguardsman struggle to keep atop the beast of war. The sightless effortlessly swung himself atop the mount, landing in front of the Dwarf to take the reins. The dust billowed out around the two as they came running back over to them in the barren dusty fields.
The hooded man dismounting without even jostling the Dwarf. Getting to one knee the sightless spoke. “Warlord, King Halgier, Fist of the Watchers. I hear from a few certain birds that you want some information.” Looking up at me his unnerving milky white eyes seemed to peer right through me.
Dismissing the other two dwarves with a nod. “So a monster hunter wants to speak with us. Why?” I said, sitting on one of the War Boars saddles.
The hunter chuckled knowingly, “I hear that someone has an interest in a certain goblin woman from the local area. I have some information I can give you, I’ll even do it for free. You helped our School as it was besieged by that Huronian Battalion that went rogue.”
Taking out a long handled pipe from my coat pocket, taking my time lighting it with a small flame from my finger tip. Puffing the sweet smelling smoke into the air. “So that was what they were attacking, it was an easy enough maneuver. They were getting a bit too close to Mhzechet for our comfort. I offered them the chance to stand down, they spit in my face by fortifying their position.” He puffed his pipe again. “Does this bird coat itself in cerulean wings?”
“And plays a wonderful song. Would you like this information?” The hunter responded.
“Very well, I’ll humor this. I take it you didn’t do this for free, who paid you originally?” I asked, the smoke puffing out of my mouth to settle into my beard.
“The Chancellor seemed very interested in learning more specific information about the seldom looked at species to the south of their city. The Village to the south is called the Skullbrood. Though this name seems far more barbaric than what they actually do. Many in the village appear rather peaceful, though quite proficient fighters.”
“Skullbrood. I’ve never heard of this name for anything, I wonder what the name could have originally meant. Very well, please tell me what you know.” I responded by handing the hunter my pipe, leery of ever handing my pipe out, but I wanted the hunter to stay a while.
The Sightless took a long drag of the pipe, exhaling a ring of smoke. “Where to begin? Well let's start with the proverbial wyvern in the room. How about that these goblins are worshipers of Bhal, and how it seems off to me.”
I raised a hand, cutting him off. “Why on the Great Trees great boughs are there goblins from half a continent away worshiping an eastern god from the desert? To top that off, the same god that started a war between the Federation and the Caliphate?” I looked at the hunter, trying to pry the answer out of his eyes.
The hunter cocked his head, continuing his report. Speaking of how the goblins were far more observant than he had let the Chancellor know, even got into a few skirmishes with them. Observing the patrols and the circuitous routes they took over both land and through the trees. How each of the raiders were also skilled hunters in their own rights. “I had half a mind to see if a few of them wanted to join our ranks.” He made a dismissive noise, continuing his tale.
The clan had a penchant for luring travelers into dangerous situations where beasts of the forest could be easily blamed for the disappearances. Witnessing what he presumed to be the Chief of their clan, leaving the bodies of the fallen to be eaten by the Giant Elk or the Serpent Beasts while they were in the area. They were efficient with what they took, sometimes taking the coins they carried, sometimes taking various other goods. While others were stripped of everything.
He told the king of the staple rituals involved. How he witnessed time after time an offering being presented to a Patriarch or Matriarch, before any given raid. Where the Chief would be given all the spoils from the other raiding parties for him to dole out as he saw fit.
Speaking about a few of the most notable persons of interest in the clan. The Chief, a tall brute of a goblin. Another brute, large scar over his eye and into a shaggy beard. The hunter speculated that he may be one of the Chiefs right hand men. An athletic looking woman, wicked with a spear from the fights he was able to watch, a large metal ring through her ear. Noting that she also had a similar nose ring, mentioning that she was one of the most recognizable figures in the village because of this. A balding young goblin, speculated on whose child he is, he had a theory that he might be the Chief’s own son.
He went on to discuss more of the goblins, a young woman, very young for the rest of the raiders he had seen. Though she stood out in particular, she seems to be the priestess of the village, as she does all the religious ceremonies for the blessings given during the offerings to the chief. She appears to be breaking some tradition of theirs as she sneaks off to join the balding raider, even gives commands to them.
Then, finally there was the Matriarch of the village. A haggard old woman who recently gave her staff to the previous woman, he amended his statement before. He assumed that the younger woman was the official priestess now, with that act, though he didn’t know for certain. She seems to be the only one to speak to the Chief like an equal, and how she’s been bed ridden by the younger priestess as of late.
“This younger woman, though, seems to fight with the Chief quite a bit. I’ll tell you something I left out for the Chancellor. She’s a potent caster.” He tried to accentuate his point by puffing out a ring of smoke.
I rubbed my chin, absorbing all this information. The sun waning over the Vilothric mountains, casting the field in a soft amber light. “A potent caster, what talent does she have?”
“I am assuming, but I do believe she has a Domain of Air.” The hunter said frankly, almost as if he was bored.
“A Domain. A true honest to the gods, Domain? What tells you that without having a resonator around?” I set my chin in palm, he had my full attention. I wasn't expecting that.
“Controls the wind in her sleep, sometimes freezes the ground around her. She doesn’t notice when the clouds stop moving when she’s out and about. A few other things as well.”
“Why do you think their worship of Bhal seems off?” I asked.
“For one, they seem to speak some variant of the Elder Fae language.” I raised a curious eyebrow. “They also exhibit a few tendencies I’ve never seen in any Cult of Bhal. They seem to have extremely strong family ties, though from what I’ve observed, they view all the members of the clan as family, whether they are related or not. They also have a strong oral tradition in stark contrast to the physical traditions of Bhal.”
“To me, without having spoken to a few other contacts, this worship of Bhal feels tacked on. They seem to be following a much older faith, from before the Dawn of Truths. Might I add that they also practice a few more older ceremonies I’ve only ever seen in depictions of the Namoux. A candle ceremony that requires the dreams of the one in the center to be interpreted. I can’t place my finger on it. The species feels wrong to me, it’s just a hunch.”
“Why is this young woman so popular in the village?” I pressed.
The hunter sitting back on the balls of his feet, thought for a while. “Hmm, well for one she’s been teaching quite a few things to them. Shows them plants, building practices. Oh, I should also mention that there is a human smith working in their territory that seems to be benefiting from their presence.”
“Why is a human there?” My eyes locked on him.
“Funny, the Chancellor asked the same question. From what I can tell he’s there by happenstance, though he appears to have taken a great liking to the young woman and her raiders.” He answered.
“You said she was a priestess, so why does she have raiders?” Asking quickly, before the hunter started again.
“Don’t know particularly. Though it’s obvious that this is the part she’s breaking tradition on. From what I’ve observed, she has quite a few allies inside the Chief’s ranks as well, that scarred brute as well as the ring wearing goblin being the two main ones. Anyway, this human has been teaching them quite a few other skills. Smithing, carpentry, textiles, a bit of herblore and farming.”
Are you telling me, what this city complains are monsters, are learning skills to acclimate into the city?” I asked, trying to see if he knew more about how the city viewed them, truly.
“Acclimate, I don’t know if I would go so far. To become a less ready target to the Galus military, probably. The young woman consistently commands the balding raider to be less forceful in his raids. Less aggressive, more cooperative with those they accost. I think just going off what they are doing, this young woman is trying to change the clan to be a much lesser target to the city, if a target at all.” The hunter began playing with a knife sticking out of its sheath belted to his chest. He was getting fidgety.
“Why doesn't she just take command of the village then? She clearly has the allies and the support to do so. She seems like she would be a much better diplomat for the village, possibly even a benefit to the Glaion citizens.” I pondered, it was less of a question to the hunter and more to myself.
“That. That is the point, I think the change in power is a violent one. They are followers of Bhal after all. I already told you they view each other as family, regardless of blood. I imagine she would have to personally kill the Chief to do so, a task I believe she would be unwilling to do. Despite those wickedly quick fights she has with that saber.” The hunter said, yawning
“Saber… What does this young woman look like?” I asked, the memory of the goblin in the abandoned warehouse swam through my mind.
“Petite for her species. Much longer braid than the rest of her people, or at least the other women of the clan. Richly brown with auburn and blonde highlighting near the base of her skull. I’m assuming her pale green skin and the brown hair are meant to blend in with the forest background they live in. Deep violet eyes, odd” The hunter made a spiky triangle motion on the sides of his head with a draping down along his cheeks, “Hairdo on that one. Though the rest seem to have some vanity and stylization to them, hers is rather distinctive.”
I wondered if it was the same woman. The description fits, especially with that saber. Maybe I have actually met this VIP, “That fucker Gjorn.”
“Pardon, Sire?” The hunter asked.
“Nothing, I’d like to hire you for something specific. I want to know the names of these goblins you have listed. I’ll pay extra for you to go speak with your Generals to try and decipher their language a bit more.” I said, tossing a fat sack of coins to him.
The hunter nodded, getting up he walked away back toward the city in the south. I sat there thinking as the stars turned slowly in the skies. “Gjorn knows far more than he’s letting on. he always does, he probably even knows her name already. But this, this may become a bit of a political nightmare if we get involved. Though… I do want to speak with her a bit more. She was pleasant to say the least…”
The memory of watching her dance and sing with us, reliving the time in my mind. Her eyes glowing in the darkness around us, that quick motion of her saber pointed at us. Relighting the pipe, letting the smoke drift past my eyes. Her soft face and long hair, enthralling in my mind’s eye.
***
Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting, D.20, Caleb
“I don’t know what to say!” Caleb answered, picking through all the material.
The group of thieves that had come with a small cart full of raw materials, laughed. Their fox masks hid their faces well, the head one with the actual fur ringing his mask spoke, “Well, you certainly made some good friends here! Helping one of our own like this, he’s been in a much better mood as of late. He asked a favor from us, and we intend to keep our word.” His voice muffled as he spoke, he sounded young to Caleb. Though, everyone did these days.
“I didn’t know the Foxes had a presence this far north of the Port. I’m assuming I shouldn’t ask where any of this came from. What do I owe you for all this?” Caleb asked, walking over to his bench where he had a small pouch full of coins.
“Nothing, your payment to the Foxes will be that you continue helping our operative in the goblin clan. We will keep a watch over your goods if you’d like us to. That is if you want to sell to the south, we can’t extend our resources all the way to Glaion, yet.” The masked man said, holding his hand up, rejecting the smith’s offer.
“But this is thousands and thousands of coins worth of material!” The old smith tried.
“I said no. We want to see our operative here be successful, besides we have a running bet with him as it is.” The group turned to leave the little enclave, the walls fully finished. Caleb had begun melting down various colored glasses for the windows he was making for his small house, when the Foxes showed up.
He sat heavily on a stump he used as a chair. Running a hand over his face, thinking back to how he ended up here. It was a lonely space, where he wanted to rebuild his life. The image of his son running through his mind, that damned sword in hand.
The breath he held onto, breathed out in a melancholy sigh. The forge fire behind him warming his back in the cold air, his hammers cool to the touch. The amount of progress he had made, left his mind reeling.
He had become something, maybe not in the way he intended, but something. These people, they ingratiated him into their Family, something he didn’t think quite possible. He had heard rumors of the goblins as he sailed for Galus, monsters of dark dispositions. He never could have foreseen what wonderful students they made, never could have imagined he would be needed by someone again.
That warm feeling in his chest brightened, thinking back to day one. She was a charmer that one, came swaggering in like she owned the place. The amount of effort she was putting into her family, reminded him of how much more he could have done for his. Getting up from his stump, the frame he was putting together for the window to sit over his bed sat on the bench.
The visage of his wife looking back at him. His home back on the coastline with her and his little boy seemed like a distant memory. A small, sad smile reached his lips, the clan needed him. He couldn’t stop teaching them now even if he wanted to, his own ethics wouldn’t let him.
He had his own forge now, set up in a good place, all the material he could want. Students ready and willing to learn from him, a community that loved him. He got what he wanted, the whole reason he came to this country. He sighed again, he needed to learn to be a little less sentimental with his new students. Then again, was that really a bad thing?
He turned to see Ilgor walking into the enclave, her bright smile infectious as he felt his face crinkle. “I’m glad it got here so soon!” She said, eyeing the cart as she came up and gave him a tight hug around the waist.
“Are you their operative, they said something about that?” Caleb asked, ruffling her hair.
“No, I’ll let him tell you if he feels like it. Personally, I think he’s a fool for getting mixed up in their world, but then again.” Shrugging, the feathers in her hair bouncing with the motion “It does have some nice benefits.”
He knelt down to her eye level, grabbing one of her small hands, “I wanted to thank you for all you have done for me. Illy, It has been a very long time since this old man could smile like this.”
She blushed, but responded quickly. “All for you?, no. You’re wrong, we should be thankful. We have learned so much from you and your patient teaching, we are in a far better place now. I’m trying to think up a way to bring all this information to Yorm without him being a moron. That’s the hard part.”
“All things in due time, probably a good idea to make everyone stay silent about it for the moment. The boys have brought quite the massive stockpile of lumber for the wall project though, when they are all processed, the building should go quickly.” He got back up, handing her the small knife he made for her.
She happily walked over with him, beginning to work on the lumber pile with him debarking the logs. It was a quiet day, the sun adding a nice level of warmth to them as they worked. The snow hadn’t yet fallen, the hurricanes they could see off in the distance were moving north rather than coming at them like they usually did.
They had debarked nearly a dozen or so, finished charring the wood to preserve them. Caleb stopped when he noticed Yvet standing at the entrance of the enclave. He was looking around inside for someone. Caleb assumed he was looking for him. “Yvet! My boy, over here!”
He watched his ears flare out at the noise. “Like a dog hearing its name.” Caleb thought to himself. He came jogging over to the smith, his face bright and hopeful. “Have you seen Ilgor around? She’s not in the Village, I thought she might be here.”
“Well then, you were right.” Her voice was muffled as she was head deep in the bark pile, looking for the knife she dropped.
“So you are here, do you have a moment?” Yvet said. Caleb noticed the sky blue stone in his closed hand. It popped out to him, seeing the stone clearly through his hand.
“Now that’s odd, wonder what it is? Very odd property to be visible through something else.” Caleb mentally noted.
“Sure, what’s up?” She said, brushing away the bark stuck in her hair, with her fingers.
Yvet looked up to Caleb, a look he had seen on his own son's face a few different times. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” He waved back to them, walking back to the forge.
“Where’re you going?, we aren’t done yet are we?” She yelled back at Caleb, but he only kept walking.
He began, hesitantly. “Well, I found something in Willowbrook. A few things actually. I found an old silvery pendant with the clan’s symbol on it, I was surprised that it didn’t have any tarnishing on it after being in the dredge piles for Bhal knows how long.” Walking around the log pile to stand in front of her.
“Our clan symbol? That’s odd, what did you do with it?” She asked, cocking her head to the side, her feathered beads falling to the side of her head with her ears.
“I gave it to Cori, she had lost hers a while back during that raid the Chief made them run through a herd of those Giant Elk. She was pretty happy to have another one.” He said, she didn’t notice the odd stone in his hand yet. Yvet just knew Caleb had though.
“That was very kind of you! She was in a foul mood for days after that, and wouldn't stop lamenting about it in the tavern with Knoll.” She said, her smile reaching her eyes.
“Well, I also found something else… I wanted to give it to you.” He said softly, closing the distance between the two of them to place the stone in her hand.
Her eyes grew wide, the light catching perfectly to make her violet eyes glow. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered out, gazing blissfully at it.
He wanted so badly to comment that she was too, but he just didn’t have the stones to do it.
She wrapped a tight hug around him, “I’ll take that”, he thought, smiling. Wrapping his arms around her. “Oh! I can see it through you, that's weird!” She laughed, as she let go of him. She wasn't looking at him, long enough for Yvet to regain his composure, let his bright red face return to normal.
“Come on, Yvet. You’re twenty four, why’re you acting like a pup? Just say it.” He thought to himself. Voice caught in his throat, sitting there like a toad.
“You’re really kind, Yvet. Thank you! Let's walk back to the Village together, maybe Mother knows what it is. Tell me about your trip down to Willowbrook some more!” Her soft voice, music in his ears.
Finally finding his voice, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” His heart still racing in his chest. Yvet animatedly described the things he had seen on his way. The cairn Ilgor had built, marking the path back to the village, they walked toward it while they talked.
