Hushed Willows faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary

She can feel the weight of their eyes upon her - heavy, scornful - pressing her further into the earth. 

Their leader is the only who speaks, direct and inquisitive. The battered woman grew still at her probing words, eyes trained upon the earth. Careful, ever so careful, not to let even a flicker of the fear brewing in her blood to shine through. 

"I.." she whet her lips hesitantly. 

She did not trust them. 

It was her own fault - the druid knew this well - but in the tense atmosphere of the cavern, all she could hear were the echoes of Grinestone. The fugitive slave was aware of the stigma of thieves, trespassers; Fen couldn't find it in herself to put faith in the show of kindness, unaccustomed as she was to it. Anxiety swirled in her veins, murmuring of traps and bondage. 

Her fractured mind settled upon one objective: escape. 

"Nae," she rasped softly. "Only ghosts, mi'lady."

"A t'ousand apologies again to ye and yers," the woman bowed her head, truly contrite, as she edged around their group nervously - lowered in submission as she made her way back out into the rain.