"It was hardly a meeting," Garin informed his daughter gruffly as he returned the hug heartily. While most men would gruff and wave off a hug, the healer was a soft enough man to accept it. Garin had lived an exciting life and enjoyed the quiet of the village. Something he kept to himself, lest his daughter take it in her head to wander the North and perhaps risk going South. "Vosker was worried and I was just alieving them. He wants a reply, an official reply, in two days and since Lutter showed up and I agreed to think upon what attacked the poor man..." Garin shook his head in slight annoyance, Vosker had been worrying but since Lutter no one else had been attacked so it well could have simply been an indignant young wolf or perhaps a bad prank that the perpetrators were hoping would never be solved. Moving to sit with his sweet daughter he dug into the stew, a far heavier breakfast than he was used to. Giving Gwendolyn a worried look, he raised a brow. "Daughter, Lutter was wounded twelve days ago. His wounds were more superficial and not helped by his drinking of the bitter brew." The man watched the young woman with a keen eye and seriously hoped that she did not think to make a court of Lutter. While Garin could sympathize with the young man, he did not want a drunk for a husband to his daughter. "That being the point, the headsman was merely had one of his worries that would not let him sleep and Yarra was beside herself with trying to get him to. It was hardly a meeting so much as delivering some soothing tea and listening to his ramblings on the matter." Giving a weary smile the healer, set aside the heavy breakfast and chuckled. "Healing is not always wounds. Sometimes my being a person of the spirits is more important than being a person of the herb."

As Arn walked through the dirt and slightly cobbled road seeing the people slowly begin their daily routine, he would see Hod at work in the smithy as he came upon the rough center of a village. The Northern villages were really just a gathering of houses and spaced depending on how close or far apart people wished to live. Garin's hearth was on the edge of the village, the man finding the quiet more to his liking. While the smithy was more center along with Vosker's home, places people were more likely to visit along with the mead hall. As the dawn light rose slightly higher and lit the world, Arn would notice a troubling sight. Having stopped by every other year he would be well aware of a small group of young boys who encouraged trouble where ever it could be found. They were peering around the large mead hall towards the two figures in front of Vosker's house. The man himself was talking with an old woman dressed in all black, and the group of boys were huddled together hurriedly whispering among themselves. The eldest of them was a black-eyed, brown-haired lad with a mean look to him. Wersk was perhaps a year from reaching the age of manhood and his attitude warned that he would be trouble even as he sneered at Arn. "Look, Oskar. It's the bear-man." The words were common enough, but the tone of them implied insult. Taller than the others, Wersk was starting to fill out and his voice was breaking slightly.

The other boy had enough sense to look contrite. Younger than his cousin, Oskar was an avid hunter and the opposite in looks to Wersk with soft brown eyes and blonde hair. "Wersk, Arn's a good hunter and he's helped my pa-"

"If your pa is your pa." Sneered the other boy, Skal. The younger brother to Wersk, who took special glee as Oskar's ears went red. "Face it Oskar-"

The more cunning boy was cut off as Wersk growl. "Shut your mouth, Skal. Ma don't like Yvenna but she's Uncle's wife and Oskar's ma." Despite his own opinions on Yvenna's morals, he wanted Oskar as a friend and not for the other boy to tattle on their tales. "Let's go have some fun away from the monster." He spat as he passed Arn, strutting as though he was already a man. Skal, their younger brother Durin, and a few other boys. Oskar giving the hunter a soft apology as he hurried after his 'friends'. In truth, it was a rumor spoke quietly that only Oskar kept the group from actually turning worse than they were. The ringleaders were the two eldest brothers of Ryska's brood. The large woman made good bread and mead, but the boys were nothing but trouble and her lack of punishment against them only made the village look at her with disapproval. Something Ryska could not stand and so settled with drinking and setting a worse for example to her sons. While Dallen and Frenn did their best, they did have a business to run and Dallen had his own children. It was a situation no one expected to end well.

Across the way from the mead hall where the boys had been spying, the headsman nodded. "Aye, in two days we'll have one trader at least from the South be putting out wares in hopes of trade." Vosker agreed, looking a bit perplexed when the woman said she had no son. Perhaps a daughter? Though it was odd for a woman so old to be traveling alone. "The markets... People gather from smaller villages and farms to trade for what they need or want." Strange indeed she did not know what a market was... "A trading day." He offered the older term that his grandfather had used. But as Mira fed the crow and offered her name, Vosker flinched. A woman of the crow? One of the tricksters and carrion feeders? It was an ill omen after all. His lips thinned but he did not feel it wise to offer his own name or anything not directly asked for. Was she perhaps the cause for ill luck? He would need to speak to Garin about the matter, but when? He had kept the poor wiseman up late the night before with his worries. Would it be too much to ask for another night of the man's time?