Lidia found herself in the village square again. The sky was covered with clouds, but the sun's dim outline was nearly at its zenith. The entire place was eerily quiet - no animals meandering, none of the villagers going about their business. One or two houses and feeding troughs had been set ablaze, and now their remains had been reduced to smoldering, charcoaled ashes. She later learned that the ettin's body was one of the first things cleared from the road, but some of the combatants from last night still lay dead in the village square, humans, halflings, and goblins together.

The first sign of life she saw was in a nearby field some hundred feet distant: a half-dozen villagers were digging a series of graves in a row, next to a small plot that seemed to act as a cemetery. The second was further down the road: two small figures traveling west down the road and turning aside onto a branched path that disappeared into a grove. She followed them down, curious about where they were going.

This path was nearly as wide and flat as the main road, she found, and it was shaded by a kind of thin green fragmented veil that came from the new leaves on the oaks, alders, and elms. Here and there, a stand of fir trees gave a second, darker shade of green to the landscape, keeping vigil as the new promise of spring made itself known. From this path a number of smaller trails branched and intertwined, mown through the undergrowth as if by design but leaving the trees alone.

The end of this path led to what was easily the largest building in Imnesvale proper. Partly hidden by branches and trunks, it was a stout, wood-frame lodge built low to the ground, stretching itself over the property upon a foundation of dressed stone. A wooden porch wrapped itself around the place. The only marker that identified this building was a carved tree trunk, its roots still firmly in the ground, but the rest of it shaped like a haggard old crone with a fierce smile upon her face.

For the time being, the only one on the porch was Aerie, leaning against the walls and rubbing her eyes with her hand. When she heard Lidia approach, her face instantly lit up. She got up and met Lidia on the path leading to the lodge.

Aerie's steps seemed heavier than usual, and she had dark circles under her eyes. But she had a wide smile. She nervously touched Lidia's upper arm in a shy gesture of affection. "You're...you're really all right! Thank Baervan!"

"I had a close call, but I'm fine," Lidia said, smiling back for a moment. "I'm curious about something, though. I heard someone's voice before I passed out. Was it yours?"

To her surprise, the elf looked almost embarrassed. "Yes, well...I thought...I've never run into undead before, and maybe I thought...well, I tried to do whatever it was you were doing. I don't know if it did any good."

"It was the right call, even if the execution didn't work out." Lidia didn't know whether Aerie's patron deity, the gnomish god Baervan Wildwanderer, had strong feelings against undead in particular, but that was something to ask later. "What are you doing here?"

Aerie motioned back to the lodge. "They've moved the wounded here - at least, anyone they thought they could save."

"I'll go help them in your stead. Please get some rest."

"I'm...it's all right. I used up my healing spells, but there's still errands and -"

"You'll do more good if you can come back later with more spells," Lidia said.

Aerie wasn't confrontational even on her best days, and she was in no shape to argue now. She said her goodbyes and left, making a beeline for the Company's camp.

The lodge was protected by a stout door, and Lidia quietly rapped her knuckles above the lock. One of the villagers, a lean, middle-aged man with dark, piercing eyes, opened the door for her, acknowledging her with a nod and standing aside to let her in.

In normal days, this lodge - the Umar Inn - was the social center for miles around. No spring or summer travelers had come through yet, and for now, it served as a makeshift hospital. The bar, finely carved and curving around a small room behind it, stood empty. All the sturdy chairs and tables in the common room had been moved aside. About half a dozen wounded villagers, two of the Order's archers, and Shamus were laid out on whatever blankets could be found on short notice. One body was covered with a tarp. The entire room had a faint smell of blood, partly because the windows had been closed shut.

Besides the wounded and the man at the door, only two others were present: Sir Grady, who had laid aside most of his armor and was now in his ordinary shirt and pants, and a heavy man in a fine brown wool waistcoat. They were having a discussion, strongly worded from the tone of it, at one of the pushed-aside tables in one corner.

The knight leaned forward, a hint of suppressed anger in his voice: "We were given no warning, and no support. Why did the Baron withhold his guards? Where is the ranger-protector? Tymora favored us today, but you cannot count upon her a second time."

The other man sank his head into his hands. "It's been a tenday since Merella last reported in, and two tendays since she was last seen. I'd sent good people to look into it. I'd have mentioned something today, if I'd got the chance."

"That does not explain why the Baron failed in his duty."

"I don't know. I don't know, unless it has something to do with Moreno."

"There must be a way to reconcile this matter," Sir Grady said. "A way forward must be found, sooner rather than later."