Stone Circle that's a feeling you'll get over overnight

The call had lifted quite pointed for Valette, but Merrit reached the firebrand first. Sharp eyes scrutinized the bedraggled man even from a long ways off. He looked alone, not followed by the same deranged fanfare that had accompanied the man who had called for his sister, yet this did little to lower the raven's guard.

Neither did the prize the foreigner bore before him. Merrit gave the beaver a once over -- noticed the glint of light against the precious stones and shells. A seafarer? He'd met one before, a man who spoke of kin who coveted, collected, and carried treasures. Pirates, he had called them, and himself.

"What brings you to Easthollow?" he asked when in a comfortable range. His accent lilted despite his reservations, lightened his words with a friendly, if not curious edge. His eyes still stared like daggers.