Swiftcurrent Creek back to the old house

Morwenna dipped her head in a welcoming nod as Frederick introduced himself, her gaze warm but steady. Welcome, Frederick, she offered, her tone calm, her eyes flicking with brief approval over his polite demeanor. There was a certain tension in his stance, and she couldn’t help the slight tilt of her head, a soft curiosity lighting her expression. The air of unfamiliarity didn’t unsettle her; instead, it intrigued her.

Her attention, however, soon shifted to Lenore, the small one brimming with an almost brazen confidence. Morwenna held her gaze, listening to the young girl’s reasoning, her eyes narrowing with a hint of amused skepticism. It wasn’t Lenore’s blunt honesty that made Morwenna arch a brow—it was the child’s quiet craft, as though the words she’d chosen only hinted at her true intent. There are kinder ways we can go about it.

A faint smile played on Morwenna’s lips, but her voice softened into something more serious as she spoke to Lenore, her tone carrying a warning wrapped in a strange gentleness. I won’t speak of this to your mother, she assured, pausing for emphasis. So long as it doesn’t happen again.

She let her gaze linger on Lenore, a silent promise held in her eyes, making it clear that her words were more than mere courtesy. Then, with a final glance at Frederick, she allowed a calm silence to fall, trusting they understood each other well enough—for now.

What led you here, then, Frederick? Hmm?