Barrow Fields crows lie, strewn their eyes are

Even the Huldra had a home. Sam had seen her den. Danced with her shadow. Admired the miles and miles of stolen skin that stretched behind her as she walked the underworld in her best cloak, pressing her sharp claws into the carpet of undead underfoot.

When his trip ended, the memory of what had seen rendered him mute.

He spent every waking moment in a state of terror. Even the pirate that sometimes took the wheel was subdued, . Eventually, the only thing that trumped fear was a deep-seated need to tell someone. Tell everyone.

@Ghost had already made her feelings about the Huldra clear. It had taken her family, there was no doubt about it. It had the wilds in its sticky grip, was the reason why @Kirain and @Solenya had been alone for such a long time, why there were so many pups wandering about unparented and alone. Evil lived in the forests here, and it would take a hell of a lot of ears to soothe it back to sleep.

But it was not in the fields. Not yet. Something else hunted here, and frankly, one Big Bad per season was enough.

Sam was admiring one such strange heap when a familiar sound tickled his ears. Fleas?, he thought, trotting fearlessly in that direction – fleas meant wolf skin, and that was the kind he was out to save.

A peek behind the mound revealed a wolf. He looked a little worse for wear, with tattered ears and some strange growth choking his neck.

Before the stranger could snarl or speak or run, Sam jumped out and yelled "FRIEND. I friend. I'm. Shit. Look, I need to warn you, and you can't dismiss..." His eyes drifted to Anselm's ears, paused there, and grew wide. Both ears? What a hero.

"You  already know," he whispered, body sagging with what would prove to be short-lived relief. "You're here to help.