The old man who was tending the long bar which served as a barrier from the kitchen proper looked up as Mira approached. The large woman, Ryska, glowered at the intruder. She was used to her father's work as the keeper of the mead hall but most did not come in upon the first light of day. Frenn himself seemed to hold no mind of his daughter or the wife of his son. Peering at the coins, the man tested them with his teeth. "Proper metal that is... From the south too. Suppose the trader will take them." To sum Frenn up in a single word, gruff. He was not unkindly but rather direct. Though the mention of visions turned Frenn's gruff disposition into one far colder. "Visions? Hah, don't need no visions with all the shrieking and squabbling. Won't be giving you a free bench to sleep on, nor coin for such common ken*."

Gwendolyn would stumble upon the fletching back half of an arrow. Blood smeared against the tree above it, as though someone wounded had rested there for a time before continuing. If they continued to follow the trail it would lead to a small rent in the earth. The stone had been carved through by the river into a six-foot drop on either side. The yearly flooding had left debris caught in the narrow passage, limiting the stream into a trickle. Arn would be able to see a furred body stretched along the bottom. Blood mingled with the water. It smelled like a wolf, the fur held the same sort of look, though there was something off with the proportions. The back was too hunched where it lay the legs too long, and half of it's jaw seemed to be missing. The good news was the monster appeared unaware of the two who followed the trail it had left.

*Ken = Knowledge