Stone Circle Wisdom comes with age,

@Moss healed. She spoke little to him of how she felt and resumed her border duties as best she could. Still, something remained amiss to her accusations of the man called Germanicus and what the soldier had revealed to him before—the witch had escaped and she travelled, pregnant. 

Moss had found her stolen away with the scent of the Roman soldier surrounding the area before a curse placed on her. 

Curses. Perhaps Lestan was right. The Mayfair’s were cursed—and this witch simply another pawn upon the chessboard to ensure their family rue whatever their crime had been. 

He was tired when the Kvarsheim runner had come, but he had entrusted his children to Arric and Shardik, rounded Moss, and they were on their way.

Spring was kind to them in terms of the weather. They held no delays and so when they arrived, the stoical man of the creek regarded Gunnar and those present with a nod, his own form holding one of neutrality. He bestowed before them a small gift—a fox—as token of greeting to being upon their land. Turning to his Gamma, he nudged at her cheek—touch he would not usually bestow upon her because he believed it unwelcome, but in this moment, he wished her to know quietly it was okay to rest. They would hold a trial and all sides would be heard—of that he was certain. 

Settling to his haunches, he looked to Gunnar, trying to remain impassive but kind in his motion. Thank you, Gunnar, he offered in the quiet of the gathering. There was little else to say.