The man in the long coat had a good head start on them by the time they had collected themselves and made their way along the footpath to a break in a long hedge that opened to the village's main road. Still, they were able to catch the sight of him heading into a small grocery store at a corner, just a block down the road.

Demona adjusted the cloak to cover her hair and unconventional clothing as they approached the entrance to the store. She had to admit, she'd been surprised at how well the cloak had hidden her from the ice cream vendor in the park, even from just a few feet away. She hoped to have similar luck indoors as she had no idea who they were following or what part he played in the game, and felt it best to keep the element of surprise.

A bell rang as they entered and the door closed behind them. The clerk, who was already in a discussion with the stranger, looked up at them and Demona froze, a bit disappointed. But the clerk's eyes narrowed and he craned his neck as he scanned the entranceway. With relief, she realized that he couldn't see her or the child of Oberon, who gave her a knowing look, as if he found the 'invisibility game' to be great fun.

Cautiously, she got as close to the conversation as she dared. The stranger's back was to her, so she could not see his face. Only a head of wavy brown hair and the outline of a full beard that looked notably ungroomed, rose above the man's coat collar. The woolen coat, already remarkable in its being far too heavy for the season, was noticeably dirty, as if it had been recently involved in a great deal of outdoor work. Most remarkable to Demona, however, were the man's boots, which were not only well worn, but appeared literally ancient, as if they'd been borrowed from a museum exhibit. It was not at all uncommon for Scottish men to be seen wearing boots that were traditionally fashioned, especially if an occasion called for regalia. But there was no doubt that these boots were not only made to look traditional in style, but had been made by hand with the most rudimentary of cobbling tools and materials. Their authenticity was certainly a step beyond what most men would bring out for their cousin's wedding, and Demona was now quite intrigued by what manner of man this magical tree branch had her spying on.

The teenage store clerk spoke to him with an even mixture of frustration and sympathy.

"Look, mate, I told you before. I don't own the shop, I just run the till! If you want a job, you'll have to talk to the owner, and she won't be back until Monday."

"So, you've said," the man replied, "But my friends and I are merely traveling through, and they've not had food in several nights. Is there no work I could do in exchange for some provisions?"

Demona became lost in thought as the clerk and the man discussed his situation. The man's voice had caught her off guard. It was one that invoked authority without arrogance, gentleness without weakness, and righteousness without vanity. And though she couldn't remember where she'd heard it before, she was certain she knew it.

"I'm sorry, mate," the clerk told him, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, "Look, there's a fiver. It's all I have on me. Maybe that'll get your friends something for tonight?"

"I couldn't take the last of what you have," the man told him firmly, "But thank you for your kindness."

Demona tried to catch a glimpse of the man's face as he passed her, while also scrambling to get out of his way unheard. Then they followed quickly behind him so as to follow him through the door without having to reopen it.

"Do you know him?" the boy asked, as soon as they were on the street.

"I'm not sure," she replied as she guided him along the walkway. The man was crossing the street, heading back toward the park, and the guiding wand had begun to hum and spark again.

"I feel I know his voice from somewhere, but I couldn't catch a good look at his face," she explained.

"What did he want?" he asked her.

"Food for his friends," she replied, racing to get around the tall hedge before they lost him somewhere in the park, "And I think we're maybe meant to help him."

"Do you want to help him?" the child of Oberon asked in a tone that was almost impertinent.

"I want to find the others and get on with this quest," she replied irritably, "But it seems that helping this strange human might be how that's accomplished."

"Sounds easy enough. You can always get more money," he pointed out, tapping the woven bag on her shoulder, where she'd stored Xanatos' elaborate gift, minus the cost of one ice cream cone.

They followed the man until he reached the entrance to the park, where he sat down on a stone bench and rested his head in his hands. Demona looked at him carefully, from a distance. She was certain she'd heard the man's voice before, and the fact that she couldn't place it filled her with anxiety. She wasn't at all sure that it was wise to reveal herself to the man, before she knew who he was, and who his friends were. But by the same token, if Goliath and the others were in any trouble, and this somewhat eccentric-looking person knew of their whereabouts, she might live to regret her hesitation.

"You give him the money," she said suddenly, taking two notes and placing them in the young fairy's hand. The boy looked uneasy.

"You're supposed to do these things," he reminded her.

"I don't want him to see me yet," she explained, "There's something about him I'm not sure of. You give him the money, and then we'll watch and see what he does."

Just then, the tower bell in the small church at the end of the road began to ring out the Angelus and the boy looked up in alarm.

"I have to go," he told her anxiously, looking over his shoulder, and down the road.

"Now?" she asked incredulously.

"He's here for me," he replied by way of a cryptic explanation.

"Who is?" she demanded.

"I can't stay," he repeated reluctantly, "But I'll be back. Here." He quickly took the two notes from her hand and ran down the footpath into the park. As he ran, she observed his transformation with amazement. His hair grew darker and the strange glow to his skin was replaced by a warm, olive complexion. His clothes also transformed, changing into the typical navy shorts and collared shirt a human boy might wear to school. Other patrons of the park now glanced up at him as he dashed past them, coming to a breathless stop before the strange man who sat forlornly on the bench. Demona couldn't hear what the boy said to the man, nor what the man said in reply, but she saw him placing the two notes in his hand, and racing further down the path before the stranger could protest.

Demona craned her neck to see where the young halfling had gone, but a gaggle of pram-pushing mothers and young children took that moment to assemble on the path, blocking her view. She stepped through the gate and hurried to the side of the path, pushing back the hood of her cloak and shielding her eyes from the midday sun so she could visually follow her young friend. He had followed a turn in the path that brought him behind the bleachers of a small playing field and to a duck pond with a covered stone bridge across the middle of it. There stood the figure of a tall, thin man in a gray jacket, whose features she could not make out in the distance. But the mysterious figure took the boy by the hand and led him across the bridge, where they both seemed to disappear in shadow.

"Is that your son, Madam?" a deep, gentle voice startled her. Once she had removed the hood of her cloak, the man they had been following caught sight of her and followed her gaze to the generous child, racing to the other end of the park. Demona gave a small gasp of shocked recognition as she looked into the man's face properly.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said quickly, clearly taken aback by her reaction to him, "I only wished to thank the lad properly, and you as well, if you are his mother."

"No," she managed to speak in a strained voice, searching his face for any sign of recognition, "He's not mine."

"Ah! Then I'm sorry to trouble you. If you happen to see the lad about, please give him my thanks." She nodded her agreement, slowly coming to the realization that the man didn't know her and what she thought she saw made no sense.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" the man asked, his honest blue eyes clearly expressing his concern, even from behind his wild hair and beard. He seemed to study her up and down, and even though he still betrayed no familiarity toward her, she instinctively held the front of her cloak closed, so he might not see her clothing, jewelry, or anything that might stir a memory in his mind. She insisted to herself that the resemblance had to be a coincidence, and she knew that made perfect sense, yet her heart continued to throb heavily in her chest.

"I'm fine," she replied at last, and she drew away from him awkwardly and hurried away down the walkway with the tall hedge, securing her hood again, just as soon as she turned the corner.