Alvin had fallen behind the others shortly after entering the Mayor's chambers, not a great practice for a scout and a tracker, but the Mootland scene had stopped him dead in his tracks.  Right there in the hall amid painstakingly carved masterwork furniture, paintings of past Mayors, tapestries depicting great Imperial victories, and even a massive Zweihander, amid all these treasures was a painting of his own people.  The first he had seen in quite some time.  To the Halfling the other treasures paled in comparison.  This was a scene he knew.

That bend of the Aver, where the children tested the waters, where the braver (or luckier) of them would look back to their peers with a wry smile and plunge in.  In his mind's eye Alvin could see the painting expanding, tracking up the river to Hornsby's Ferry to follow the youths as they skittered home dripping water with every step.  The Altern Forest beyond, and the myths of their being haunted, myths believed well enough that travelers within will rush to get through before the end of daylight.  Myths believed well enough that Inns prosper on both sides to allow travelers an early start going either direction.

Perhaps it was good these myths had always had just enough hint of reality to spur the feet of even the most curious of his kind.  Though he would have enjoyed dwelling there further, looking at the painting and recalling the flow of the Aver and the cities of his youth (Eicheschatten in particular, that great Halfling capital) his thoughts of the Altern Forest bring him back to the present.  Alvin's eyes venture back to the Zweihander and he gulps before hurrying along to catch up with the others.

Alvin stood quietly, for once, amid the others while the situation was further explained.  He stood on his tiptoes more out of habit than necessity when  Van Schlofel pointed out the road the caravans, pilgrims, and travelers had been last seen on.  No bodies, not of the citizens nor of their attackers.  Nothing found by militia patrol.  Van Schlofel offered them what help he could, but what they really needed was somewhere to start.  Something the militia had not had.

The Halfling tried but failed to restrain a chuckle at the Dwarf's comment, though he'd been unable to stifle the chuckle he forced the grin from his face.  It was still a good question.  The more they knew about the forest the better.  He waited for the Dwarf to receive his answer and then asked aloud but mostly to the woman, the Sister of Shallya,

"The Boy, he was out there in the forest wasn't he.  Do we have anything of his?  Something the dogs might get a scent from?"

The secrets of this forest may be darker than those of the old Altern Forest just past Hornsby's Ferry along the Aver, but they would find these secrets.  They would all take the plunge.