Dallen gave a weary sigh as he grasped Arn's hand, his own looking diminutive in the larger man's grasp. "Deal." The owner's son agreed readily, though he was privately dreading having to go back into the Hall to inform his wife and sister of the agreement. Most likely they would not even hear him, or care, until this spat ran its course. As it was, Dallen was seriously considering pushing his sister to marry again outside of the village. Ryska had never been so vicious as a child, but such was the bitterness of lost beauty. With a large brood of children and getting wider after every one, Dallen knew there was a lack of love towards her sons and privately wondered how her husband had dealt with her. What he did not know was that Ryska and her husband had been a good match and now that she needed to find a new husband Ryska was at a disadvantage due to her brood of children and large size. "Anything else you can get from the forest before winter comes in force would be helpful. I'd give you an exchange of ale and whatever food we have about that isn't meat." In truth, none of the boys were good hunters and it was hard during the winters to keep them all fed, especially with another mouth on the way. Dallen's offer was one of necessity. He would have hunted himself, but the owner's son was often too busy dealing with repairs and the work about the hall with little help from his nephews and his own son too busy keeping a sharp eye on said nephews.

Across the way from the other side of the mead hall, Vosker was puffing on his pipe and frowning at the caterwaul sent up by Frenn's daughters, by blood, and by marriage. He still felt a bit shaken by Mira's appearance and seeing the black-dressed woman talking to the children unnerved him. Black was not a color most people wore all over like that, and old women did not travel alone and converse with crows without being a woman of some sorcery. He had tried to be polite and show hospitality to her, but he still felt uneasy. When the soft voice of Garin's adopted daughter interrupted his musings with an odd lisp, Vosker tapped the ashes out of his pipe. "Oh, just fine lass." Though in truth that was certainly not the case. The headman simply did not wish the strange crone to have unnatural hearing and hear him put any potential insult into words. As the headman of the village any curse done upon him would be done to the entire village. "Just fine, dear."