Jahn cursed as Ali tossed yet another successful hand of dice. Back home his da would have whooped anyone who used that kind of language around the girls, even if it was in public and they weren't even his. A serving girl set down a few pints for them, and Ali grinned, tossing one of the crowns he had won to cool their steam. "The drinks are on me, fellas. Thanks for the chat. My family will love knowing the merchants will come early this year." 

"And do they love that you're a hopeless cheat?" Filch asked, the oldest of the young crowd with a beard that hid a frog-like bowl throat, and nasty eyes that lingered on everything a tad too long. Ali wasn't in the mood for his games. "You're just mad that I come here every so often to win over your money and you lose every time. Oh don't give me that look, Jahn Holsom. You're just as bad, only you hold your tongue because you know Evelyn has a soft spot for me." 

Ali wasn't usually this forthright and blunt, but these wool headed fools had been increasingly agitated as of late, and he had expected them to greet him warmly after a long winter. He grabbed his staff in his strong hand and headed out, the sun now barely peeking over the horizon. Usually he'd find a room at the inn, but at the moment he felt like walking. He would make it home, hopefully before his da and siblings went to visit his uncle Montel for a few days. They always got together just before Bel Tine. Ali used to join them, but ever since he experienced his 20th winter, he'd enjoyed the solitude of the empty farm. 

The morning was crisp, and the sun's warmth had barely begun to lessen the cold of night as Ali left Taren's Ferry to head southward toward Edmond's Field, taking one of the lesser known roads to make better time. Old folk would say it brought you dangerously close to the Mountains of Mist, and Creator knows what sort of spirits haunted that dreaded area. But there was many miles of forest separating the road from the mountain, and the eldest son had taken the road many times in youthful rebellion of going against his elder's advice. What was one more trip? 

He whistled with the birds. The plump little creatures hanging in the trees above him as they sang, and though he whistled a tavern tune, they almost seemed to be singing with him. He could hear the words in his head, from when he heard the song first all those years ago by his nan. 

"The fields are sewn and the winter's done.
Celebrate Bel Tine and await the Sun. 
Keep to your kin and love shall win. 
Whistle this tune until the Dark One's gone." 

He was just about to whistle the second verse, when he came upon something that would change his life forever. Or, something came upon him, more like. 
[@Penny]