The group was sitting in one of the dwellings.

The `house’ - for lack of a better word - was dug into a mound and seamlessly blended into the ground.

They followed the two leaders, the old fox granny and the spider, into a large round room with a high ceiling.

It was illuminated through a large hole in the center of the ceiling. A beam of sunlight was shining onto an open fireplace, already stacked with wood, in the center of the room.

Lining the walls were green stones or fungi, that emitted a faint light, used as light sources in the hallway and other rooms.

As the group neared them, they turned on, one after another, all except for one. The granny halted next to it, before hitting it with her staff.

It was presumably beyond her ingenious repair skills, because she cursed under her breath, the intonation being his sole indicator, the words strange and unknown.

The spider let an amused `hiss´ escape. It sounded like a laugh to him.

Enda berated the granny and urged her onward, looking back at him with a faint blush across her cheeks. Was she embarrassed about the antics of the older fox?

A smile grew on his face.

Some things just never changed wherever one might find himself.

Enda narrowed her eyes at him, then shifted her focus towards her sister still holding onto his hand.

Now that her apprehension had disappeared and the little girl was certain her siblings were safe, she talked to him energetically. Not stopping. A torrent of words.

Not that he understood her.

Not that she cared.

He did manage to learn her name, he hoped, Keera, or Cira … Ciaráh, or something along those lines.

The brother’s name sounded like Aidon, Aidan … Aodhan.

They sat in a circle around the center of the room, the spider further in the back, merging with the shadows, and old granny fox in the middle, sitting on a cushion in front of the fireplace.

Her gaze was fixed on the wooden logs in the center, her staff leaning on her shoulder.

Balancing precariously.

The room was filling with an air of anticipation.

It was almost palpable.

A snore broke the tension.

The spider giggled first, Ciaráh soon joining her.

Enda just facepalmed, before directing her melodious voice towards the snoring granny.

“Máthair Chríona!”

* * *

“Granny!” Enda repeated.

Her gaze alternated between the village elder and the strange creature sitting close to her sister Ciaráh, chuckling. This was typical of the old woman. Just one word “Come!” before setting off into her burrow. Expecting the others to follow her without complaint.

Her sister was talking to that creature again. Apparently it saved both her siblings from one of the Cŵn Nerwnn, the hounds of the dark castle Nerwnn. She was still shocked they actually existed. Her parents had told her stories of course, but they seemed like fairy tales. Supposed to scare her into behaving.

Her heart tightened and an uncomfortable began festering in the pit of her stomach. If they did not hear that magic explosion, the hunting party might have been too late to return, failing to protect anyone. A large part of the skulk had been taken anyway.

She wanted to join the scouts sent to follow the tracks at the village gate, after not finding her siblings initially. Despite the elder’s assurances that the two were fine, she needed to make sure herself. Her mother made her promise to look after them, before she ...

The elder stirred, awoken by Enda’s shout and started speaking, addressing the gathering at large

“Ah sorry sorry, tis the age, lads and lasses, tis old age ...”

Seriously get on with it! Enda’s thoughts betrayed her agitation. With every moment they wasted, the attackers were gaining distance, and she still hadn’t seen Luchta, the blacksmith’s apprentice that was sweet on her. She was almost of marrying age, and he even gave her a gift.

Her eyes rested nervously at the knife her sister was carrying.

She really needed to get that away from her. Ciaráh might cut herself with it.

“So, WhY ... aRe ... YoU ... HeRe?”

The elder was talking to the creature, emphasizing every syllable loudly. Probably hoping if she spoke slowly enough, it would understand her.

Enda studied the creature sitting cross-legged. It appeared unarmed, but what it hid under its strange garments, so different than any the traveling merchants had ever brought, remained a mystery.

From the story Ciaráh had told, it might even be capable of magic.

As the elder continued ... what was her name anyway? she always had been just `Elder’ or `Granny’ to pretty much the entire village, for as long as Enda could remember …

Anyway, she continued her attempts at communication, even using her hands and arms.

What’s with this weird dance …

“Elder!” Enda repeated, over the giggling of her siblings and a snort from the creature.

There was that gaze again.

Was it looking for openings? Attempting to guess her combat abilities? Maybe it was preparing a strange spell. A spell using its eyes. Maybe, it was peering into her thoughts.

Uhm, apples … rivers … trees … playing cubs … the ball hidden in her armory … oh sneaky, trying to find out what kind of weapons she possessed …

Her brows furrowed. She was trying to empty her mind, not allowing the strange mind-reading magician creature before her any more glimpses into her mind.

As Enda’s misunderstanding intensified, the Elder, Druantia, not that anyone actually cared to use her name, was finished with her little deception. The man-creature in front of her was trying hard to suppress its laughter, an action helping convince her it was not dangerous.

He was not dangerous.

Proving, at the same time, to have more patience then Enda as well, a useful quality in a mate.

Hohoho, a mischievous thought struck her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind.

Actions needed to be taken, and time was growing short.

Her fun could be had later.

And the prisoner was already being interrogated by others.

“So, you don’t speak our language, huh ...” she mumbled, more to herself than at him.

She neared the `guest’, satisfied from the read she had on him so far. She ignored Enda’s protest, warning her of approaching the `deceitful, wretched, mind-reading magic beast.’

Right, when she had asked for his name, he fell to the floor, obviously in pain.

There was a clue there, she was sure.

After giving him a closer inspection, Druantia returned to her seat, resting her old bones.

She had sensed something. But her friend was more adept at such things.

“Any ideas, Damhán-alla?”

Her old friend emerged from the shadows, apparently feeling the need to be theatrically with her growing age, and began studying the man more openly. She most likely learned all she could from observing him before, possibly probing his surface thoughts. The only other path they could take was probably,

“a dreamwalk ...” their voices overlapped.

* * *

The old vixen, the term felt strangely wrong to him, even if he knew it was technically correct, was studying him, scrutinizing his reactions.

At first he believed her antics were due to advanced age, but she observed him too carefully for that. The intelligent glint in her eyes betrayed her act. That and a certain presence in his mind. Something foreign. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, just out of reach. Like his memories.

Her act served to lighten the mood, so he played along. Any attempts of tomfoolery at his part would probably be short-lived, most likely by the spider that was watching him intently from the shadows.

Ciaráh’s amused laughter and Enda’s embarrassed expression were enough compensation for him.

Trying not to be detected, he stole a couple of glances at Enda, sitting all serious in seiza. Their eyes met, and his gaze lingered a little longer than it probably should have.

Her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed slightly, before her cheeks puffed out cutely.

The sound of annoyed wind chimes resounded next to his ear again, so he returned his attention to the old woman. She had finished her performance and sat back down in deep thought, her fingers rubbing her chin.

“Mar sin, ní gá duit a labhairt ár dteanga, huh ...” She muttered under her breath.

He learned one thing about himself, he did not appear to have an ear for language, the words still strange and alien to him.

Suddenly she stood back up and approached him. Enda was protesting vehemently. That hurt him a little. Had he done anything to warrant such caution?

The old woman stopped in front of him, tilted her head this way and that, before moving closer. Her face suddenly filled his vision, peering deeply into his eyes, her fingers parting his eyelids. First his right, then his left.

He almost threw her on instinct, but the ever watchful gaze of the spider, more so than the fuming Enda, stopped him in his tracks.

The elder wasn’t finished yet, circling to his ear and inspecting its insides.

Was she giving him a physical. He’d protest if she’d ask him to drop his pants, though.

He was quite certain he could communicate that, boundaries had to be established.

Without warning, she started prodding his head with her staff, before knocking on it with her knuckles.

Before he could voice his dissatisfaction with the treatment, the old woman had already returned to her cushion with unexpected agility.

A huge sigh escaped her.

“Aon smaointe, Damhán-alla?”

The spider left her hiding space in the back of the room and came forward, its many eyes locked on him.

A combination of hisses and clicks was overlapping with the voice of the elder.

“Aisling siólúid ...”

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