Arrow Lake bile quartet

There was absolutely, positively no reason why Hex should have left the Ridge—and even less of a reason to be this far away. Maybe one day. . .but not so soon after his misadventures. Hadn't he learned his lesson?

The spirits, though. They insisted. Following their tug, he traveled cautiously, skirting the Vale and descending slightly toward a glittering alpine lake. He breathed a little easier at the lower elevation and was heartened by the prospect of a drink when he caught sight of the man in the water, bathing.

Witch, came the voices, purring into his ear.

Hex's dark lips pursed in quiet contemplation as he stood, watching from afar. After a few minutes, he approached the water's edge, several paces down from where the stranger was submerged.

Should their eyes meet, he'd give a brief nod, then lower his head to lap at the rippling surface.