Nymona stumbled back towards the hole she had fallen from, thick roots pressing into her back. Before her, a collection of robed strangers moved around the crumbling hall in utter silence. The waves caused by their shuffling feet washed over the lip of Nymona's alcove, running over her bare feet. Her rags and weapons from before were gone, as well as the wicker doll. [i]A dream?[/i] she wondered. Though if that had been a dream, then how had she gotten down here among these people? If it was a dream, why hadn't she woken back in her woods, back in her isolated solace?

She hunched down amidst the roots, exaggerating her already short frame. As she stared at the others wide-eyed, the roots caught and toyed with her hair, hard brown and soft black intermixing. She had already been seen by at least one of them, so there was no point in hiding. Still, she wished the roots would grow over her and shadow her away.

One of the figures, a woman in grey robes began to arm herself as the others moved towards the end of the hall. "Who are you?" She asked in a high voice, "where are you all going?"