A/N The 1st, the 11th, now the 21st...I see where this is going. Hopefully not, though. The later chapters shouldn't be so hard to edit. I think.

Aaugh, probably a bad idea not to leave this 'till the afternoon for one last checkover...it's 5:30 in the morning for me. x.x Whatever, too tired to care.

Hope you'll check out my Cheshire Nao Event on the MabinogiWorld Forums. I hope I haven't made the riddles too hard, though.

Disclaimer: Mabinogi belongs to Nexon and devCAT. I own absolutely nothing in relation to it, except for the characters I thought up.


Possibly, the third most-hated item on Kaven's list of things-never-to-do-before-he-dies list is the cleaning of his neighbours' properties.

Technically, Kaven, Cyntia and Sarah have no neighbours. They're the only farmers in the small farming village that theoretically should be the booming centre of agriculture if not for the politics of what Kaven believes is the Aliech Regime. Luckily, the townspeople helped Kaven and Cyntia to learn enough for them to single-handedly cultivate enough of their land to feed not only the entire town all year, but also make a profit off of selling to various locations: usually their neighbouring city Dunbarton, occasionally the center of culture Emain Macha, and rarely the mining town of Bangor.

Kaven's isn't completely sure why the five other barns and forty wheat fields are left unattended except by him and his family, but he can guess. Duncan, the village chief, is a smart man, and simply following from that logic it is inconceivable that he will not use all the resources that should be available to him. However, if there is pressure from even higher up – for example, a parliamentary decree – then he has little choice but to follow. From what Kaven picked up through eavesdropping around town, the money he and Cyntia pay to Duncan for the renting of their farm is being paid to someone else – likely the person who actually owns the fields, seeing Duncan does not.

Furthermore, there seems to be circumstantial restrictions placed on the kind of people allowed to work at the farms. As far as Kaven can see, none of the adults seem to be able or willing to give up their respective jobs. Either through chance or manipulation, they've been placed in necessary niches, and as their population is small, all roles had to be played by someone, especially more so if the role is specialized – Lassar as the magic school teacher, Meven and Endelyon as ordained priest and priestess, Riley as the ore deliverer for Ferghus the blacksmith, Tracy as the logger, et cetera. Plus, all children of the townspeople are required to attend swordsmanship school and they are also forced to enlist in the Royal Army for a four-year minimum service after graduation, and when the few that comes back settles down, there always seems to be a job that required immediate filling – a new position at the bank, usually, but sometimes a representative for a parliamentary debate that spans years, or another owl keeper.

That leaves the job of farming open only to animals – impossible, of course – or strangers – who the townsfolk can't trust – or the elders. Tir Chonaill seemed to have chosen to ask the elders to work the farms. Of course, the problem is that there aren't enough people retired to fully operate the market, and since this regulation had apparently been going on for many years now, one by one the farm hands had probably died off.

Kaven and Cyntia had been there to see the last of the elders, apart from Duncan himself, drift into eternal sleep. It was on her recommendation that Duncan had allowed Kaven and Cyntia, to take over, even though they had been strangers at the time. It had been godsend to them – after all, they had been desperate for anything that could feed them. Duncan himself had later told Kaven that that had been the only thing that let the chief trust the two to not default or take advantage of their new positions.

So far it works. Kaven and Cyntia are a little shorter of money than they'd like, but in general so is the town. More importantly, Tir Chonaill is functioning smoothly, and there had been no need for Duncan to have to take over the farms himself, nor a need to appeal for aid or reconsideration from Tara, the capital. Things can now go on like this for a fairly long time.

As for the why, however, Kaven only has an inkling of an idea. He had seen that other towns has their own crops fields, as well – Dunbarton has potato fields, Emain has corn fields, and Taillteann even has tomato patches – but most locations are still short of food needed to feed the entire population, which is where Taillteann and Tir Chonaill came in. Seeing this made Kaven realize that should towns have limited agriculture – that is, if they heavily relied on food that came in from other towns – in an unforeseeable event like an attack by Fomors or possible disruption of relations between towns, it will leave some places where complete vulnerability showed in the form of famine. From there, Kaven can understand the security aspect of needing some base in food stock for each and every town, and from there, Kaven can realize the necessity of letting the other towns' agricultural markets better compete with Tir Chonaill's own ones.

That did not explain why the ownership of their land did not rest with Tir Chonaill, however. It explains why the regulations are in place, but not why they, probably the Regime, own the land he works on. And it also did not mean that Kaven likes the situation at all. Yes, this method is much more secure for the continent in general, but no lack of specialization makes a market fairly inefficient, puts cracks into Kaven's business, strains the economy of Tir Chonaill as a whole, and forces him to goddamn clean the barn houses each month.


Chapter Three –

Serene Days II


Kaven moodily kick away a piece of timber on the floor, which nearly hits Sarah. "Hey!" she squeaks, cuddling Chicky protectively.

"Sorry," Kaven mutters, though he isn't all that sorry, really. In his books, Sarah is as useless as they come. It doesn't help that she's not even trying to help. Of course, she's barely had any experience working at a farm, but Kaven purposely ignores this fact.

He dusts off the cabinet in this room, sneezing once as a cloud billows up into his face, and then checks each drawer once to make sure no bugs are living inside. Once that is done he dusts off the bed that is considerably plushier than his own, though it still had nothing on Piaras' inn. All this while, Sarah feeds her chicken with some cooing and giggling, Chicky clucks several times every minute, and Kaven grumbles distractedly about something. Listening in to his own speech, he realizes he is annoyed at Duncan for being so damn firm about the other houses and other fields being maintained in good condition.

Then again…that supports his guess about this land being on lease to Tir Chonaill. Kaven isn't sure how much the original owners want to keep this place, but if they really are the Royal Regime he doesn't quite want to bring attention to himself by shirking his responsibilities. He and Cyntia both need this job, and besides, there's that slight chance that one of the guards will remember him from the incident.

No, for now he'll do as he's told. One of these days, hopefully he can own his own farm.

But until then… "Sarah, do you mind actually helping me clean up? At least blow off the dust where you can." He finishes saying that only when he realizes that the window he's wiping off is the last thing needed to tidy in this room. "Okay, nevermind. Just help me weed the fields then."

Something jabs into his leg irritatingly, and Kaven's eyes flicker to Chicky standing at his leg like a dog to the signpost. Having made that simile he moves his legs away. His annoyed face turns to stare at Sarah.

Only to land on her small, violently shivering back.

"Sarah?" His general irritation now turning into slight concern, he moves to her side and reaches out to her. When his hand touches her shoulder, however, icy cold attacks his fingertips like a wolf biting, and he jerks away quickly with a hiss, and he glares.

Only now does he see the faint blue aura – mana, the magical equivalent of blood and energy – that curls up in wisps and puffs out of her frame. Kaven had seen several different training mages go through that similar incident, except those had only been on one extremity at a time. Here, Sarah's whole body is spitting out blue steam in all directions, which definitely means it is not good.

So this is mana system instability. Dilys, the town's healer, had only told him that a week ago that for some reason Sarah's internal magic circulation is somehow screwed up, not having enough to be healthy, which is apparently why she gets her occasional nightmares. Dilys had also said the mana wouldn't behave badly to the point of having physical impact, but she must've been wrong if it left his hand freezing.

And frankly, it's going to be a damn pain if she's going to do start having random magical traumas left and right. Kaven's concern melts back into a ticked off demeanour, which really he has every goddammed right to be considering the time, effort, and money that could potentially go into keeping her relatively healthy which might not even work anyways.

Kaven takes his comment back. Sarah is not a normal girl.

She is such a fragile girl.

So easy to break under his hand.

Suddenly, the girl gasps, her head turning wildly. He sees her eyes dart around like vibrations before they settle on him.

"Nightmare?" Kaven asks idly.

Sarah shifts her weight, reaching back to a wall and leaning to it. Her expression is suddenly wary, as if she wants to say something but is afraid what it will cost her. Perhaps rightfully so, as Kaven is more critical of Sarah than Cyntia is. "It's nothing," she murmurs. "I mean, it really was nothing. Just all black." The girl shudders.

"So it's nothing I should worry about." Kaven does not even bother building it into a question – after all, the less trouble he has to go through for her (and even that is only because it appeases Cyntia, of course), the better.

"I don't know what it was. It's like…it was like my eyes were closed."

"They probably were," Kaven points out dryly.

"They were trying to make me see."

Her flustered fantasy boring Kaven, he tries to tune her out as he grabs his supplies and moves out of the residence pointedly. When the door opens again with barely a creak the cool air drifts into his faces, and he inhales the rich scent of leaves that are starting to fall heavily. He walks over to the next farmhouse in line, keeping his sights directly on it even with the irritation known as Sarah follows behind him.

"Someone's moving. I mean, she's not really moving, but she has this whole board set up with kings and queens and – and pawns. But she's getting promoted – I don't know why! She wants all the pawns to move one way, but she just doesn't want to be a queen!"

"Humble," Kaven mutters as he unlocks the door to the farmhouse and lets himself in. Sarah apparently trails behind him, because he can still hear her talking.

"She thinks, if she, if she's attacked and attacked with paintings she can get her to run to her. But she doesn't want to – why should she? Why is getting promoted all that important? There are eight pawns – but one queen. But she's still not giving up!"

"Sarah, please just be a little more quiet –"

"She doesn't want to, but she and all her opponents gambled on her. The chosen is coming. Even if I don't want it to happen."

The cracking of her voice actually makes Kaven pause. His head turns to confirm his suspicions – Sarah's looking like she's about to cry.

"Er –" Awkwardly, Kaven sets his cleaning tools down on the wooden floor.

"No, don't worry about it. Just – let me stay with one of you. That's all that matters." Sarah starts stroking her pet softly, even as Kaven watches her in bewilderment.

"Oh…um, okay, then. Just…just remember to take that mana herb powder with you at dinner. Dilys said that's best. And go to bed properly. And don't act too strange around Cyntia…"

Sarah fumbles with her seed bag even before Kaven stops speaking, and the man feels his annoyance building again. Really, at least she could pretend she was listening to him. He just tiredly rubs his eyes, counting to three, and when he opens them again, he is greeted with the sight of Sarah now frowning at her chicken, who isn't moving, even with the handful of food Sarah is holding for it.

"Chicky? Are you feeling alright?"

The chicken only clucks in response.

"Chicky is old, Sarah. Let it lie down."

Sarah stares at Kaven somewhat confusedly. "Old?"

"Well, yeah. You know, aged? It was born a long time ago."

"But I've only been with Chicky for a week."

"A month," Kaven corrects. "And besides, that doesn't matter. It was pretty old even when you first grabbed it." Actually, old enough that Kaven and Cyntia had been considering killing it and eating it. It can't lay any more eggs, and they would rather not let it be fox chow. And then Sarah had come in and took the damn bird as a pet, so now Cyntia's all about keeping it, and Kaven doesn't have the heart to disagree with her. "And since it's that old, you might want to let it rest more than moving it around, Sarah." Dammit, there goes good food…for a while, at least. Actually, Kaven doesn't know if it's a good idea to eat an animal that's died naturally. But better that than bury it and let wild animals dig it up for free dinner.

"It's fine." Sarah hugs the chicken tighter. "Chicky need to learn to walk with me, right? Because I'm keeping him forever."

Kaven just sighs. Does she not know what death means?

And then a light brown barn owl flies in through the open door, nearly whacking Sarah in the face if not for her quick dodge. Kaven recognizes this bird immediately.

"Hey Rock. Duncan need me?"

In response, visiting owl simply drops the envelope it is holding in its beak, letting it spiral down to earth until Kaven catches it and opens it with one fluid hand. When he reads its contents, his eyebrows raise.

"Someone lost an earring...again?" He takes a moment to glare at Rock. "It's not a prank, is it? He's sure someone really dropped it by accident?"

The owl turns its head clockwise, as if questioning the sanity of the man for talking to an animal that knows no more than he does. Kaven simply sighs. He peers back into the envelope, and after noting the leafy bundle inside and guessing what it is, he plucks it out of the envelope and drops it into Sarah's lap. He folds the letter and puts it into an old pocket sewn onto his outfit. "Start cleaning up for me, Sarah. This trip's going to take me two, three hours? If I'm lucky."

"I'm coming with you."

That answer is so unexpected Kaven has to mentally rerun it again in his head before he really registers what she said. "No. There's no need for you –"

"Two hours, right? So how long is that? Fifty, sixty kilometres away?"

"Sarah, listen –"

"Oh, I know, it's a hundred and twenty kilometres of walking, right?"

Where the heck did she come up with these numbers? "No, five kilometres of walking. In total. Most of the time's just to look around –"

"Why only five?'

"What do you mean, why only five? That's how fast humans walk!"

"Oh, okay. Will I be okay in these clothes?" she asks brightly.

"Are you kidding? It's going to be freezing."

"Then I'll just go get Cyntia's coat!" she says brightly, and hurries away with Chicky in her arms.

Kaven groans. "That thing isn't even going to fit you! Take the stuff she's got in her bottom right-hand drawer!"

Honestly, that girl. If not for his guidance, she wouldn't survive a minute in the northern parts of Tir Chonaill.

…Hey, wait a minute.

Did she just trick him into implying she can go?

…Okay, Kaven can't lie there. The girl is worthy of a little bit of respect.


Eventually, during their walk, Kaven says, "You didn't have to wear that yet, you know. It's not going to be cold until we actually get up there."

Sarah only shakes her head. She had put on the outfit that looks suspiciously like a sleeveless dress, with long stockings, cloth armlets by the shoulders, and fingerless gloves – Cyntia's old winter wear, and though she outgrew it, she did not want to part with it for some reason. Kaven still wonders why Cyntia had asked him to buy it, since it isn't exactly a conventional winter wear, leaving open too much skin at the shoulders and arms. Now that he thought about it, he wonders why the makers designed it this way.

Most of all, he wonders why he even considered buying it, since on most winter days Cyntia had to lean on him to stay warm.

But while they are walking, he may as well refresh himself with his history. "Sidhe Sneachta. Have we told you about it yet?"

"Shee Snick-Thuh? I don't think so."

"Mmh. Let's try something different then – have we told you about Mores the druid yet?" Again the little girl shakes her head, and Kaven finds himself already in a slightly depressed mood at her ignorance. He wonders what life could have been like, if one month ago they hadn't taken the little girl in. Last year, he spent most of his autumn days finishing up making his own hut, and the year before that had been alternations between guiding tourists and fixing up Deian's pasture's fence. This year he might have been able to get a lot more part-time errands than usual. And he certainly wouldn't have to bother keeping an eye on and educating the darn girl while doing an errand for the village elder. "Well, basically, there was a great war in a place called Mag Tuireadh. There were a lot of big battle and fights, way bigger that what you see me and Cyntia do sometimes."

"So...you mean, there were giant people sparring with each other?"

Kaven sighs, smoothing out the short cloak-like sweater he is holding. The fur adorning the neck, elbow, and leg areas are all tattered with tufts missing. A pity this coat of his didn't have long sleeves. Also a pity he lost the boots and gloves that go with it. He gets back to the story. "Erm, no, I don't mean big people, I mean big numbers. It was a pretty bad battle, and there were a lot of heroes who went in there and never came back out. Mores the Druid was one of them, and he's one of the few people whose name is still remembered. One other example is Lugh Lavada, the Knight of Light."

Sarah remains quiet, so Kaven continues. "They built the structures for the memorial of a great wizard and his students here in Sidhe Sneachta. Something about natural resources convinced them this is the best to build a winter field." He pauses once more to nod respectfully at Trefor the guardsman, who nods back as the pair passes him. "To represent the mages, they built lots and lots of snowmen. One of them is said to be the best snowman of all, to represent the greatest mage of all time."

"Mores?"

"Heck no. Mores was the best known Druid from the Second War of Mag Tuireadh, and even he couldn't come close to power or fame with Uscias, the mage with thirty disciples."

When they reach the end of the path they are taking, a strange structure meets their sight. Sarah reaches for it, but Kaven holds her back. "Do you notice these patterns?" he asks her, tapping the four-pronged platform that blossoms from the earth like a clawed hand grabbing the air. Each of them has four or five signs scribed, though not all the pillars have the same set, or the same positions. One looked like a falcon or a heart, depending on position; another appeared to be a map of Tir Chonaill, except a lot thinner and with a large circle at the bottom; a third that seemed similar to a golem; and two different versions of a sun, one which has a thicker circle and the other that has longer rays. "They were created with magical power, with those symbols as the medium, to teleport the person entering into the fields somewhere far away, somewhere colder, so the snowmen can exist. There are two of these, though, so try not to confuse which one is the one we took. Come on, let's go."

On that note, he pulls the little girl forward, prompting a small cry of surprise, and steps onto the platform that glows blue once under him and deposits him on a similar, but more cold, exit. Kaven now pulls on the garment he has carried to this point over his shirt. "Remember when I told you Uscias has thirty disciples? Well, this –" Kaven gestures to the multitudes of snowmen in front of him, and Sarah stares with her mouth agape – "is all the students, and the master himself. It's a pretty good source of revenue for Tir Chonaill, with so many touring here just to pay respects to the greatest Druid."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. Now, have we told you –?"

"How far away are we?" Sarah meets his gaze with wide eyes. "Are we really, really far from home?"

"Pretty far, yeah, but here's a secret: the mages actually use magic to make it snow. That's why it's not cold – well, not as cold as our winters can be." Kaven grins. "It's not like they weren't already using magic, with this –" he gestures to the teleportation gate – "and they were erecting a memorial for a druid, and this place supposed had a good source of Erg – that's another form of energy, by the way, and it's slightly different from mana – but anyways, they could channel it all. So of course they'd put a bit of magic in the weather too. Now, have we told you about Eerich the snow imp yet?"

The girl shakes her head, and Kaven chuckles. "And I thought we bought that book for you. It's basically about a snow imp who has a magical pouch that can duplicate items. He once stole a valuable-looking earring, and whenever someone hits the snowman he's hiding in, he makes a copy and throws a it out to make them go away."

"An imp lives in a snowman?" Sarah asks with wide eyes.

"Heck no. Someone just made that story up because it's supposed to be funny how many times people tell Duncan they lost their earrings and find them all in the same place. Of course, most of them are pranks, but..."

"But?"

"Well, some of them were actually found stuck inside a snowman. And the rings are all from the same snowman." Kaven shakes his head in bemusement. "Maybe it's magic. Whatever's lost here could just magically be channelled into a particular one, just to make finding stuff easier. It explains why this place doesn't look littered with leaves or carrots or whatnot." Kaven begins moving again, and Sarah streaks past him at the next moment, so he calls, "Be careful of the coyotes!"

The little girl yelps and moves back closer to him.

The next few minutes passes with little eventful happenings, and consisted solely of Kaven and Sarah hitting each snowman by themselves, trying to find out which of the snowmen collected the rings. Occasionally Sarah squeals out in excitement, only to call out the exclamation had been a false alarm, it was actually a stick or a pebble that had fallen off. Kaven keeps hitting only the snowmen he deems unique, since he recalled that the snowman is supposed to stand out from others. One had a left "arm" placed slightly lower than the rest; another had a misshapen head. By the time he gets to the one with a large amount of teeth, he had gone through seven different "unique" snowmen, so he hits it with little expectations of a random earring magically appearing out of it.

Which just had to be the moment when the snowman spits out a frozen earring that bounces hard off his temple, causing him to lose balance and crash hard into the snow. He groans in disgust, half a mind dedicated to a systematic destruction of the offending snowman.

"I'll get it!" the petite voice calls, and Kaven waves his hand wearily, signalling he has heard the message.

Then his eyes snap open when he hears a sudden, shrill shriek.

Snatching out the gathering dagger he keeps in his pouch just for occasions like this, he moves with much more intent than before, managing to grab onto the furry back of Sarah's winter clothes and heaving her backwards with force. He observes the scene in front of him with slightly grim annoyance.

Six coyotes – six of them – are growling at both him and Sarah. Behind them, he sees the rear ends of several creatures vanishing into the distance, and guesses that they are the young. Honestly, Sarah gives out more trouble than she is worth at times. Ah, scratch that; she definitely is trouble.

Rubbing his head and trying to rub out that thought with him, he tries to concentrate on the animals. At first they'd be on their guard, as startled animals unsure of how to proceed, then they'd start circling him, trying to size him up, and finally, when they become more confident, they'd each attack. The only good thing is that being coyotes, they didn't know how to work cooperatively on him like their cousin wolves potentially could have.

For now... "Sarah, just run." He waves a hand vaguely at the structure he could see in the distance, and adds, "Just keep running until you meet someone, and then stay there until I pick you up."

Not turning his eyes away from the glares of the animals, he holds out his knife. Two of the coyotes start spreading out, and one dumb enough actually runs at him prematurely, and jumps – straight into Kaven's waiting dagger, and he swipes the dead animal off his weapon as he evaluates his adversaries once more.

No point running away, after all – they can run faster than humans can, and he'd no doubt they can take out his unprotected back eventually. He'd also have to be careful not to let any past him, since he's pretty sure Sarah, for all of Cyntia's praises, is not exactly ready to kill anything stronger than a sheep, and that will cost her if one attacks.

And if all of them attack at once, even he would be dead meat. He only possesses two usable extremities after all, three if he could attack with one leg too, but his concentration is not nearly flexible enough. Plus, it might only be a matter of time until a Fomor – the demonic beings that are the enemy of mankind – notices this situation through the animals' senses and take them over, which would complicate the situation even further. Quick and efficient it'll have to be, then.

With that final thought, he lunges ahead, catching a clearly surprised coyote by the neck, and tries to strike out at the next one; although he slits the second target by the rib, two closes in and bites the arm he tries to wave them away with. A grunt of pain escapes his lips, and he resists the urge to shake them off, going along with their pulling instead and getting one in the eye with a subsequent stab, while kicking out with his back feet a second later, anticipating the last one taking advantage of his preoccupation. Sure enough, the blow catches and likely crushes the face of the poor animal, so Kaven turns back to the coyote digging even deeper into his arm, a fierce growl escaping from its mouth, to which the man only sighs, "Dumb animal," before jamming his knife into its forehead. Discarding the carcass quickly, he turns to the whimpering behind him, and coldly stabs through the eye again, ending it.

It's a shame, to have to kill like that, but Kaven had no choice; he heard tales about animals that were allowed to live, but developed a grudge against the scents it detected the day it was attacked, which usually culminated in a scene many years later when the animal takes its revenge. Besides, Kaven needed some money; Fomors left scrolls that are left on particular animals for surveillance and control purposes could be cashed in to Duncan, who is authorized by the royal regime to give payments for them. It would help pay for next week's food costs, at least.

All of the bodies poofed with black aura all right, signs that the animals had been possession material for Fomors, but none left anything except a fairly bloody earring behind. Kaven winces as he scoops it up and tries to wipe the blood off the snowman besides him, resulting in a red extension to the mouth that made it look disturbingly like a smile. Kaven stops at that point and moves on to another snowman that manages to soak up the blood nicely, before turning his attention to his arm.

It didn't look too bad, and he definitely had worse, although he'd still need to treat it soon. But first, he needs to pick up the more-than-useless girl. So he hauls himself over to the teleportation gate, wincing when the platform flashes blue again and his injury flares, and then he lands on solid ground, back in Tir Chonaill and limping over to Trefor.

With luck, she found someone to protect her before she had to run to Trefor, but as Kaven walk farther and farther forward and the bites start to burn, his annoyance builds. It's almost like the girl wants to kill him, just from the amount of walking she makes him do to get to her. Of course, technically it's not her fault, but Kaven, again, chooses to ignore the fact that pops up on his head.

By the time he arrives in front of a jaw-slacked Trefor, he has half a mind to simply leave the little girl with the guard and walk straight forward. Then Cyntia's face flashes in his mind and he sighs, though he is still not in a mood to talk. "Coyotes, six of them," he says tiredly to Trefor. "Just gimme Sarah and we'll be gone."

"Are you seeing Dilys first?" Trefor asks immediately, but then coughs and adjusts his gray visor as he asks, "What was that about Sarah?"

"I told her to run."

"Okay."

"As in run to you, Trefor."

"...Okay."

Kaven glares at him. "Look, I'd like to go back home now, and if you don't mind, give this to Duncan." He drops the earring into the opening of Trefor's overall/armour hybrid, to which the guard cries in surprise and drops his sword, fumbling underneath his armour and yelping something about how ticklish it is, before Kaven ignores him and moves past.

He makes three steps before he realizes something is missing: the sound of Sarah's quick footsteps. He turns and squints at the panicky man. "Sarah's not here?"

Trefor only tries to reach under his shirt again, before shrieking in pain from something that is not immediately visible to Kaven. He spares a moment to mentally compare Trefor to a chest-beating buffoon, and then he drops his gaze to Trefor's legs, which Sarah once hid behind. No eyes greets back at him.

Suddenly, Kaven understands. There are two of the teleportation platforms in that field. In his haste to get Sarah out of danger, he must have gestured to the wrong one – the one that leads even further north.

He curses once before he starts running back to Sidhe Sneachta, all thoughts about the earring, his arm, and the comfortable hut he calls home driven out of his mind and replaced by an image of a smelly Cyntia with a wicked sickle.