"Lydia? Can I have word before you leave?" Maria caught them when they left the downstairs tavern. It was quite late already and they didn't look too good.

"Maybe tomorrow, Maria?" Lydia looked more tired than she had ever seen the warrior.

"No, please. Just a moment. I insist! I got a quest that might interest you."

"We're currently not interested in quests, you know."

"An old woman needs help gathering firewood. She specifically requested your group. Babbled something about a ranger." Maria played her trump card.

The trio was at the counter within a heartbeat.

"What's this about a ranger?"

"Here is the quest," Maria handed over the paper and the feather.

For the group with the blue haired woman.

I need help gathering firewood. Meet me tomorrow between the first and second bell at the east gate and bring disguises. Specially for the blue haired woman.

Wear this feather, so I can recognize you.

Reward: May know something about a missing friend.

"It's the old woman who was here earlier," declared Thira immediately.

"Are you going to take it or not?" asked Maria innocently.

Lydia mulled it over.

"We have to take it, Lydia!"

"I already told you that the blind boy you saw this morning was someone else, Thira. Why are you so stubborn about this? I guess it's only an old woman who wants to play tricks on us for giggles," sighed Lydia and put the paper down again and turned towards the door.

"If it helps your decision: I know the woman. She's trustworthy and wouldn't bother her old bones to tweak the tails of adventurers. I suggest you go and check what she has to say," said Maria. "She sounded very sure about knowing Crear."

Lydia clenched her fists but didn't move.

"We'll take it," said Roric quietly and grabbed the paper and the feather. "Checking out a possible lead is still better than running aimlessly through the city."

"Maybe he doesn't want to be with us," whispered Lydia crestfallen. "Why else would he vanish without a sound?"

"You can hit him for that when we find him," laughed Thira. "But before that, we have to find disguises. I wonder why?"

"Ah... the old woman is from the slums. And your blue hair is very striking. Maybe cover it? And put something with a few more patches on?" suggested Maria.

Her boy had left right after breakfast to go hunting again. The meat was a welcome addition to the slums and it would be much easier for her to get his adventurer friends to see him. At least from afar.

Elma stepped onto the snow covered lane and collected the boy from yesterday.

"Say, Kelvath, where are the other kids?"

"Most went with uncle Cre to train huntin'. But I stayed here, 'cause I got a secret mission with Auld Elma today!"

"Ah. Then he'll be at the clearin' today. The one with the stream? He always goes there to train you kids in huntin'."

They both carried a basket on their backs, though Elma's was filled with a bundle of food for lunch.

"Look, Auld Elma. Ain't that them?" Kelvath pointed at the trio of badly disguised beggars standing in the shadows of the houses. The lady warrior looked depressed. The big man noticed them and walked over.

"A feather for your thoughts, granny?" He handed her the soft feather.

"Well, well. Guess that feather was useless. Ain't ye a bunch of bad actors?" cackled Elma. "But it should do. Tag along and tell me 'bout yer missin' friend. Maybe I know him."

Walking out of the gate, Kelvath ran ahead of them, jumping through snow banks.

"We don't know much about him. He's about 1.7 meters tall, got long silver hair and wears it in a braid. He always has a blindfold over his eyes but can see as well as anyone. I guess it's because of the burn scars. They do look hideous and would scare many people. He's a ranger, as far as the Guild knows, but I haven't seen him shoot his bow. He's a silent and snarky guy," recounted Thira from below her hooded cloak. "We did a recently discovered dungeon together, where he got a leg wound. He had been even more cranky after that. And he was still too weak to walk when we got back to town. But right when we weren't looking, he gave us the slip. Straight out vanished from our room on the first floor without leaving any tracks behind. Not in the alley below, nor on the opposite roof."

"Hah!" laughed Elma. "Kelvath, if ye wanted to run away from the first floor of a house without leavin' tracks in the snow, what would ye do?"

"Use the door."

"Without using the door, dimwit!"

"Climb to the roof and go a different way before goin' back to the alleys," called Kelvath back instantly. "Why ye ask?"

"Hear that?"

"But he was wounded! He could barely walk on his own! Much less climb up a house," insisted the blue haired woman.

"I guess we haven't introduced us yet. My name is Auld Elma. But ye can keep with granny, too. The boy over yonder is Kelvath. And yer names are?"

"Roric," said the big man.

"I'm Thira," added the blue haired woman. "And the brooding woman is Lydia. We've been combing through the entire city these past days and couldn't find him anywhere. The Guild Master had some ideas, but wherever we went, they hadn't seen him recently. She thinks he's avoiding us on purpose and isn't taking it very well. Where are we going?"

"Ye think he's avoidin' ye on purpose? Aie, maybe. I'm bringin' ye to see someone without them seein' us. Kelvath! Ye know that ledge near the clearin'? Know a way to get there without crossin' the clearin'?"

The boy came back with glowing eyes. "More secret stuff?"

Elma nodded sagely.

"This way then."

"Not so fast! Me old bones can't keep up with ye young ones," nagged Elma, forcing them all to slow down to her walking speed. "Sigh. Let me tell ye a story me sister once told me. She lives deep in a forest, far away from people because she hates people. But a small village of outcasts formed around her hideout over the years. People too strong or too strange looking to fit in anywhere else.

One day, she found a boy in a cave. He was covered in burn marks, as if someone had tried to torch him. Yet there was no sign of any fire around. She took the boy home and healed him. And then taught him how to fight and survive. He was laughably weak. Didn't even know east from west and was like a wild beast, ready to bite any helpin' hand. But my sister is tough, and so is her village of outcasts. When they had nothin' left to teach the boy, she sent him to me. To learn of people.

Huff. I did what I could, but he's still wary of people. Better to keep them away than let them close and get hurt, no? Thing is, he can't go on like this."

They made steady progress and reached the bottom of the ledge.

"Haah. Just up this little slope and we're there." Elma took a brief break, leaning on her trustworthy broom to take a breather.

"What does this story have to do with us?" asked Lydia, opening her mouth for the first time during their trek.

"Ye're good kids. Ye haven't run off all this while and ye even gathered some wood for an old granny. Let's get up there and take a look."

Kevlath jumped up and down next to her: "Hurry! Or we'll miss the best part! It's a bell before noon!"

"Aie. Lead on, boy," said Elma and trudged after the little weasel. How her bones hurt from the exertion! But it was worth it, if it helped her boy.

The happy squeals of playing children reached them long before they got to the highest point of the ledge.

"Come, quick! It's startin'!" Kevlath ran back to them, then vanished in the bushes in front of them again.

"Huff. Kids these days..." Elma pushed through the last bushes and took a deep breath.

Behind her were three overwhelmed adventurers.

The view was magnificent. A ledge overlooking the forest, the nearby town and the adjacent fields. A world covered by snow and frost. Many thin snakes of smoke rose from the city. In the forest below their feet was a clearing with a lively stream running straight through it. Poles had been pushed into the ground all over the clearing and children ran around, gathering ammunition before hiding behind the trees.

A single person remained visible, pushing a final pole into the ground and checking that it was secure. Then he hung his cloak onto a low branch at the side of the clearing and picked up a bow and a quiver.

"Throwin' snowballs at him is fun, but watchin' him dodge everything is so much better!" whispered Kelvath at her side.

"Be a dear and explain to our guests what will happen," asked Elma.

"Sure, uhm. So, some kids are sittin' in the trees and holdin' targets for him to shoot at. They have to change the position of the target all the time. Others have been hung up and don't change position. Then there are the kids that throw snowballs at him. He always dodges them and still hits the targets! It's so awesome! I want to be a hunter just like uncle Cre!"

"Your uncle Cre sounds like an amazing person," said Thira.

"He's the best!"

"And what are the poles for?" asked Lydia half-heartedly.

In that moment, the man below jumped onto one of them, balancing on it while pulling an arrow from his quiver.

"What is he doing?"

A snowball hurtled across the clearing and straight at the man. He flipped onto another pole, shot an arrow into a tree and danced to the next pole before another snowball shot past. Pulling the bowstring taut again, he crouched down to dodge a third snowball, whirled about and shot in a completely different direction, nailing one of the stationary targets hanging on the tree trunks. A third and fourth arrow crashed into the hidden targets, the squeal of delighted children audible, followed by heavy rustling as several of them clambered through the trees to change location.

"If he touches the ground before the quiver's empty, he looses and has to make grilled meat for everyone," whispered Kelvath. "Oh, oh, they're startin'! Look, Auld Elma!"

Roric followed the pointed finger to see children running into the clearing and removing several of the poles before vanishing again. A new barrage of snowballs went through, dodged by quick turns and impossible jumps. Arrows were shot no longer only from the relatively even ground of the poles but in mid-air, hitting targets he couldn't even see. But he heard the excited squeals of the children whenever an arrow hit.

"It's him," mumbled Thira over his shoulder. Roric nodded. They were the same quick reactions and movements Crear had used to dodge the trap he had so foolishly triggered. Not to mention the blindfold.

The last arrow fled from the bow in mid-jump, thudding into another hidden target. The man landed on a pole, twirled about and did a mocking bow towards the forest. Children streamed out with happy faces, some holding high their targets and showing off the arrows on them, while others chugged their snowballs into the air with a gleam in their eyes. A second later, he was bombarded with snowballs from close quarters. Yet he dodged them, caught some and threw them back. Children went down with laughter as they were hit, one finally landing a hit. The man missed the next pole, tugged into a roll and landed in the snow, where he laid motionless.

The children went utterly silent, sneaking closer and prodding the man to check on him. He still didn't move. A second passed. Two seconds passed. Then he jumped up and attacked the children with a laugh. They squealed and fled from the three snowballs he hurtled after them. The whole thing quickly devolved into a brawl and ended with the children stacked on top of the man and holding him down.

"He could've dodged that last snowball," muttered Lydia with bright eyes.

"Where would be the fun if he didn't let the kids win from time to time, eh? Time for us to go. Wouldn't want me boy to get home and have to search for his Auld Elma." The granny stretched her old bones and walked into the bushes, followed by the kid.

"Wait for us!" Roric grabbed Lydia and dragged her along. At least she's getting motivated again. I'm sure that man was Crear. But it could've been someone else, too. How can we make sure it was the same person? Did he wear a blindfold?

"What's the name of your boy, Auld Elma?" asked Thira conversationally.

"That I don't know. I always called him me little boy. The kids all call him uncle Cre."

"You don't know his name? But-"

"Names mean nothin' to me. He's me sweet little boy and will stay me sweet little boy, no matter what happens," interrupted Elma Rorics question.

"Ye want to check it's the right person, eh? When ye don't know him? I can arrange a meetin'. Or at least get ye lot to run into him somewhere. Then ye can ask and make sure."

"That would be helpful," said Thira.

They made their way back to the city and into the slums, where Auld Elma made them hand out their gathered firewood to the people living there. They were wary of them and vanished as quickly as they appeared.

Roric later suspected that they wouldn't have seen anyone, had they not been in Auld Elma's company.

"What do you think, Lydia?" he asked when they sat around a table, eating a late lunch. "You've been silent all day long."

"That was Crear, I know it!" said Thira eagerly. "I don't know how his leg healed so quickly that he could jump around like that within a week, but that was him! He had the same hair color."

"Could you do it, Roric? Balance on those poles and dodge every snowball? It was amazing," breathed Lydia. Her meal was still untouched, her eyes glittered as she probably replayed the whole scene.

"Since I'm our first line of defense, no. I can't go and start dodging attacks. But I know what you mean. Maybe, just maybe, with enough practice, I could do it. Then again, probably not."

"And still hitting all the hidden targets..."

"Hey, Lydia... Lydia!" Thira shook her shoulder.

"What? What's wrong?" Lydia's eyes focused onto Thira.

"When do we chase him down and ask him to join us?" asked Thira with a big grin.

"I... don't know," mumbled Lydia, returning to whatever dreamland she had been in.

"And what is wrong with you, sister dear? You've been very fixated on finding our ranger, stubbornly refusing to give up. Do I have to worry for your chastity?" he asked with a raised eye.

Thira turned red. "That's not it! I... he... you big dummy! I'm just happy that we finally found someone who fits into our group!" she screamed at him, then went on to stare a hole into her food.

"As I see it, we could wait in the slums for him. Or at the east gate. He seems to go out there a lot. Or we could ask Auld Elma." Then he sighed. Lydia was still in a daydream and Thira did her best to ignore him because of his teasing.