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"Thank you, Georg," Ashlynn said warmly, nodding in acknowledgement as Ollie led her toward the village gate. As much as she wanted to linger for proper greetings, the witchcraft she’d used in the carriage would provide temporary relief at best, and more than anything, she wanted to settle into a comfortable chair by a warm fire with a hot meal.

Once she had soaked in the rich, tenacious energy of the forest around the village, she would be better company for everyone who had come to meet her here.

As she walked alongside Ollie, Orava Village spread before them like a memory from another time, a relic of the years when Nyrielle had been forced to reconquer the Vale of Mists after Cellach Lothian’s soldiers and the Church’s Inquisitors burned most of the Vale’s settlements to the ground.

Surrounding the village, a high wooden palisade wall rose against the backdrop of stunted pines, its timbers weathered to a silvery-gray that looked like the weathered bones of the mountain in the pale autumn sunlight.

These days, the wall stood not as much for protection as tradition, a reminder of harsher times when refugees fleeing Lothian territories would arrive at these gates seeking safety before they continued their flight across the mountains.

When Ollie escorted Ashlynn through the main gate, she noticed the well-worn grooves in the ground where the gates swung wide to admit both people on foot and wagons packed with people and goods, evidence of generations who had passed through these same gates.

Generations ago, in the years after Nyrielle’s victory over the Lothians, much of the traffic came from people returning to the Vale after being driven from their homes.

Though the village hadn’t welcomed such refugees in many decades, Ashlynn hoped that Orava village would soon play host to the descendants of those refugees who might finally make the pilgrimage back to the homeland of their ancestors.

Whether they came to visit or to resettle, Ashlynn didn’t care, though she hoped that more people would choose to make their homes in the Vale after seeing what it would become in the years to come.

For now, however, as long as more people found a reason to cross the mountains and visit their corner of the Eldritch world, Ashlynn would be happy.

"There’s a longhouse that’s reserved for guests and visitors," Ollie explained, gesturing toward one of the structures that dominated the village interior.

Each longhouse rose tall against the crisp autumn sky, built to accommodate the larger frames of bear-like clan members who preferred communal living.

The structures formed a loose circle around a central gathering space, and beside each stood garden plots now largely dormant in the late-autumn chill.

Only a few hardy greens and root vegetables remained, most covered with cloths to protect them from early frosts.

"I hope you don’t mind, my lady," he added a touch awkwardly as they approached the worn, aging structure that stood slightly apart from the others in the village.

"I brought some comforts from the castle, but the guesthouse mostly serves as a stopover for traders crossing the High Pass during the summer.

It, it may not be up to your standards," he apologized, worried that she would feel somehow slighted by the humble interior of the long house once they arrived.

"Ollie," Ashlynn said with an amused smile. "Heila and I spent the entire summer living in huts in a swamp. Whatever arrangements you’ve made, I’m sure they’ll be fine," she said, giving his muscular forearm a reassuring squeeze.

As they walked the packed-earth path, Ashlynn felt the weight of watchful eyes. From doorways and windows, villagers observed their passage with undisguised curiosity, but all of them maintained a careful distance.

These were people who had chosen Orava for its remoteness, preferring to live as far from the Lothian borders as they could manage while also avoiding the bustle of the fortress town at the Vale’s heart.

Though none of them looked resentful at her arrival, they lacked the near reverence that she had encountered in villages closer to the ancient fortress.

Even the pointed hats that she and Heila wore only drew curious glances without any deep emotions of fear or worship that she’d encountered in Eldritch lands, though she supposed that the people of the Vale had little contact with witches in the years since High Lord Torbin’s death and the Vale’s decline to obscurity.

"They don’t mean any disrespect," Ollie said quietly, noticing Ashlynn’s awareness of the silent observers. "They’re just..."

"People who prefer to be left alone," Ashlynn finished for him with an understanding look.

"It’s fine, really. Right now, I need to be left alone a bit myself," she said before quickly following up to clarify what she meant. "That doesn’t include you, Ollie. You can stay with me as much as you’d like while we wait for Mistress Nyrielle to return. "

The inside of the long house was warmed by several crackling hearths along the walls, and the floors were covered by thick carpets that stopped the earthen floor beneath them from leaching heat out of the wide open space.

Several curtained-off areas functioned as individual sleeping quarters while piles of cushions formed a semicircle around the largest, central hearth, looking particularly cozy and inviting after spending so many days in the frigid lands of the High Pass.

"This is perfect," Ashlynn said, holding Ollie’s hand as she gingerly lowered herself onto a pile of soft cushions before wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and over her lap.

"Now, sit, everyone, please," Ashlynn said, gesturing to the remaining piles of cushions.

"Knowing Georg, I’m sure he has plenty of stew for everyone, so join us for a meal. "

"Are you sure, Lady Ashlynn?" a short, horned soldier asked as he stood uncomfortably beside a pile of cushions. "I can help to bring your things in if you need..."

"Your name is Harrod, is that right?" Ashlynn said, recognizing the soldier who had guided her and Ollie toward Captain Lennart’s troop in the hills when they fled from the summer villa. "Harrod, you don’t need to be so formal. I’m not even ’officially here’ yet, so for now, just sit and eat.

We’ll be joined soon enough by the men in charge of the carriage and wagons, so don’t worry about doing their work and take your ease while you can. "

"I’m honored you remember me, Lady Ashlynn," Harrod said, bowing slightly before taking a seat on a pile of cushions.

"You already know Harrod and Georg," Ollie said, taking a seat comfortably on Ashlynn’s right side while Heila took her place to Ashlynn’s left.

"Let me introduce you to two of my good friends," he said, gesturing to a pair of cloaked figures who had stood patiently off to the side while old friends reunited.

"This is Milo, from the Heartwood Clan," Ollie said warmly. "And standing next to him is his wife, Juni. I heard that Heila had been injured as well, so I thought that if you needed an attendant..."

"Sir Ollie speaks very highly of you, Your Dominion," Juni said, her whiskers twitching in barely concealed anticipation as she gave her best curtsy to the powerful witch.

Her tail bobbed up and down, nearly thumping the ground with excitement as she felt the rich, wooden energy radiating from the Mother of Trees and the shorter, horned witch beside her.

Of all the witches to walk the world, the Mother of Trees was an almost sacred existence to the Heartwood Clan, and when Sir Ollie had mentioned that she might need an attendant for the next few days because the woman who usually served at her side had also been injured, it had been all Juni could do to keep from throwing herself at his feet to plead for the opportunity.

As is, she’d spent every moment of her free time since arriving working on a small carving made from a fallen branch of the hearty pines outside the village.

She’d kept the design simple, working to create a practical hairpin that ended in the shape of a pinecone in the hopes that her feelings of deep reverence could be felt by the current Mother of Trees, even if she lacked claws of her own to read the heart of the person who carved it.

After all, of all the Eldritch people, few had a deeper relationship with trees and wood than the Heartwood clan, and there wasn’t a little girl alive who hadn’t dreamed that one day a new Mother of Trees would sweep them into a magical journey to join her coven.

Such opportunities were incredibly rare, and Juni herself had done nothing noteworthy to earn such an honor, but at the very least, she wanted to present something to the newest Mother of Trees that expressed the feelings held by her entire clan.

"Be easy, my love," Milo teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and his tail around her waist. "We’re embarrassing Sir Ollie like this," he said, giving her a playful poke in the ribs. It wasn’t that Lady Ashlynn’s presence didn’t have a similar effect on him that it had on his beloved wife, but the veteran archer had already given his loyalty to Sir Ollie.

Right now, as he felt the strong, vibrant energy of the Mother of Trees, his greatest concern wasn’t how he could win her favor for himself, but how he could best help his friend realize his own dream of becoming a knight in her service.

"Sir Ollie, is it?" Ashlynn said, raising an eyebrow at the flame-haired young man sitting next to her. "Has Sir Thane made it formal then? I know it was something you wanted."

"No! No, he hasn’t!" Ollie said with a panicked expression on his elegant features, returning him in an instant to the kitchen boy he had been when they first met. "That is, he offered, but I wouldn’t let him. Not without talking to you first," he said in a rush.

"Lady Ashlynn," Ollie said, taking a deep breath to compose himself. "I want to be a knight, and I’ve worked hard since you left to learn how, but I won’t ever call myself a knight until you tell me that I can. I don’t want to be just another knight leading a village in the Vale of Mists," he explained.

"I want to be your knight. That is, if you’ll have me," he finished quietly.

"Just another knight leading a village?" Ashlynn asked with a brow raised. "Sir Ollie, why do I feel like there’s a story that I should hear?"

"Oh, there’s quite the story," Georg said, entering the open area with a tray holding several bowls of steaming hot stew that smelled richly of fresh herbs and red meat, along with sections of warm, crusty bread kept warm by the hearth while awaiting Ashlynn’s arrival.

"And if Sir Ollie leaves anything out and tries to be humble about all that he’s done," Milo said, giving the young man a pointed look. "Then Juni and I will be sure to tell you how he saved our people from Owain Lothian’s savagery and gave us a place to call home again."

"From Owain?" Ashlynn said, warmth fading from her face as she sat up straight. "This, I have to hear..."