We continue down the hill, the afternoon sun warm on our backs. Around us, the trees start to thin, leaves rustling in natural harmony with the water burbling along beside us. The situation would be idyllic if it weren’t for the inner tension I feel at what might await us.

We round a final bend, and ahead we see the village unfold. A wooden palisade surrounds a modest-sized settlement. Thatched roofs top a hodgepodge assortment of buildings scattered seemingly at random on both sides of the water. In the centre is an open square with a stone pillar in the middle. A narrow stone bridge crosses the river to join the two halves into one. The smell of woodsmoke from cooking fires rises towards us, along with the sound of adult conversation and children laughing and playing. A rhythmic ringing of hammer on metal comes from a building towards the water's edge.

As we get closer, I begin to smell the distinct earthy odour of animals, and the occasional lowing of a cow and grunts of pigs can be heard. Stretching away from the village are several fields growing crops of some kind, and many of the homes appear to have vegetable gardens alongside them.

‘Looks like a picture come to life, a Constable complete with hidden sharp knives.’

As we get closer to the village, we see children playing outside notice us and stop to watch for a minute before running back into the village. One of them runs into what I think is probably a smithy of some sort. It has one of the few tile roofs in the settlement, smoke rising from a tall chimney that sticks up from the back of the building, and the rhythmic hammering, which had been coming from it, stops shortly after the youngster runs in.

A minute or two later, a big man comes out and leans easily against the building corner, looking at us. He looks grimy, with soot-smudged skin that shines with sweat. He holds a large, heavy-looking hammer loosely at his side and wears a heavy leather apron over his clothes.

‘Well, Del, if that’s not every storyteller's perfect depiction of a village smith, then I’m a monkey's uncle,’ I muse with a wry smile.

“Afternoon,” he says quietly as we approach. “Don’t get many coming down from the hill.” His voice carries a mix of curiosity tinged with wariness.

“We have been travelling for a few days,” I answer. “Exploring and hunting, found the river and followed it down.”

“Can be dangerous up there, lots of folks that have no good in mind for honest people,” he says, and I feel the challenge in his words.

“I know,” I say. “Ran across a couple of bandits that tried to have at us. They had already got the better of some other poor soul.”

“Really?” he asks. “Can you describe them? What about this other fella?”

I describe the cut-throats to him and give him a brief description of the encounter, with additions from Elara to embellish my recounting. The other one, the man they had already killed, I describe as well. Something in the smith’s stance makes me feel he recognises something about him.

“There was nothing of note that could really help me identify him except a small pendant.” I reach into my pouch and retrieve it, showing it to the big man. He nods on seeing it.

“Show this to Vita. She’s the village bonesetter. Person most likely to know something of this.”

“Thanks, I will.” I put the pendant away. “Is there an inn or tavern we could freshen up in and get something to eat?”

He gives us another look over, his eyes assessing, judging if he thinks we might be trouble or not.

“Inn’s just the other side of the square, you can’t miss it. Jake’s a good man and a terrible cook, so hope his wife is in the kitchen. Tell him Merl sent you, and he will see you right.”

I hold out my hand, and he grasps it in a firm handshake. “Thank you, Merl, I’m Del and this is Elara.” I glance around; no sign of Misty. “I’m sure I’ll be back before we leave—will be needing supplies and some maintenance on gear doing.” I smile.

“I’ll be here,” he says and steps back into the forge doorway. I feel his eyes watching us head into the village itself for a moment before the ringing of his hammer starts again.

We meander through the dusty streets of the village, which is alive with the sounds and smells of a thriving community. Children run laughing and yelling at each other through the alleys and gardens, older youths appear to be doing simple errands like carrying deliveries or washing sheets. Women move quickly from place to place or stand in gardens and on street corners, chatting and gossiping with one another. The men, those that I see, are all engaged in one activity or another; we pass a carpenter’s shop with a couple of guys inside working on a project of some kind. It makes Del think of recent events.

‘I hope Seth is managing to figure things out.’ All things considered, I have no hard feelings towards the man. A cooper sits on a stool outside his workshop, tapping staves into place, and through the open window of another shop, I see a man folding and arranging clothes on tables. Many of the businesses appear to be converted front rooms of various cottages, and the scene is rustic but homely. It is a place I could easily settle down in, and it reminds me of how my own small-town home may have been a few hundred years ago.

‘Don’t go getting daft now,’ I chide myself. ‘Too much to do to get tied up in homesickness, you daft old bugger.’

Elara nudges my arm. “Do you notice anything?” she whispers quietly. I look at her.

“Sorry, I was miles away. What have you noticed?”

“Look at the people,” her answer is cryptic but brings me back to focus more on what’s going on around me and less on daydreams and atmosphere. I begin to be more observant of the people around us as we make our way towards the central square. While some just ignore us and go about their way, those that look at us, for the most part, just look curiously at people they don’t know strolling through their village. However, some of the glances go beyond curiosity into suspicion, and even one or two look outright hostile. I wonder what could be generating that effect. A couple of times, I notice the ones giving hostile or suspicious looks turn and melt away into the streets and back alleys.

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‘I wonder where they are off to,’ I thought. "Well, Elara, I guess we stay friendly and stay on our toes. I am sure we will soon enough find out if something concerning us is going on," I say to my companion.

‘It's possible they are not used to elves coming here, or,’ I feel the touch of trepidation, ‘word of the wizard’s bounty has reached here as well.’

The village square opens up ahead of us. To one side, a small selection of carts with awnings is set up selling wares: a butcher displays cuts of meat and poultry alongside a fishmonger who sells bigger fish than we—well, Misty—managed to catch from the river. Other stalls seem stocked with various items; one has household goods, and another is piled high with breads and cakes. Behind the market stands a large building, looking rather imposing with its heavy double doors and wrought iron gate. The whole area bustles with many residents piling bags with goods to take away.

At the other end of the square is a large stone-built building, three stories tall, making it one of the largest in the place. A painted sign hangs above its door, depicting a colourful bird with its legs chained up to a large metal ball.

We step inside its well-lit interior. Despite the warm day, a healthy fire burns in a large open hearth against one wall. The wooden floor is sprinkled with sawdust and straw. Tables and chairs are spread around the large open room, mostly empty at this time of day. A man stands behind a bar at the far end of the room, wiping down the top with a cloth; he looks up as we enter.

"Afternoon, miss, sir. Welcome to the Cock and Ball. How can I help you?"

I smile. "You must be Jake. Merl sent us to you, said you might be able to help us with freshening up and getting some food."

The man’s face opens up into a broader smile.

"He would do at that," he says. "And I can certainly help you with food and a bath, should you want it. If it's just a wash-up, then there is a trough out back you can use to wipe the road off your face and hands."

Elara is almost bouncing beside me. "I could so manage a hot bath," she beams.

"Bath is two copper or three for hot, plus a copper for the boy." Jake has barely got the words out before Elara dumps four coins on the bar. He smoothly sweeps away the money and whistles. As the sound fades, a scrawny lad appears through the door at the end of the bar. I notice his face, suffering the adolescent signs of acne that I remember with such distaste from my own youth.

"Hot bath, son," Jake says. "Room two is free."

The lad nods his head, and with a "Follow me," leads Elara off upstairs.

"You missed lunchtime," he states. "Dinner is at dusk, but I can rustle you up some bread and cheese in the meantime."

"That would be very welcome—and a mug of ale too, if you could," I reply. "Meanwhile, I am just going to use your facilities and freshen up a bit."

"Latrine’s out back, by the fence—can’t miss it if you have a nose." He informs me helpfully. I simply nod thanks, head through the backdoor, and rinse off in the trough before attending to other matters.

Feeling considerably more comfortable, I head back inside. Quiet conversation at one of the tables cuts off as I enter. ‘Did I hear them say wizard?’ OK, keep careful ears and eyes all the more open. I collect my plate and mug and move to a table, sitting with my back to a wall where I can easily see the stairs and door.

‘Getting paranoid, Del,’ I think as I chow down. ‘Better paranoid than dead or worse.’

I sigh. This is a nice place; it gives me good vibes. I don’t want there to be a negative side to things. Just for once, I want uncomplicated. I notice one of the men who had been talking at the table has gone.

‘Dammit, I said uncomplicated,’ I grumble to myself as I loosen my knife in its sheath, just in case, before continuing with my meal. The food is filling—a rich, nutty bread with lashings of butter and a hefty hunk of sharp, hard cheese. The beer is refreshing, with a citrus zing to it. It would be so easy to just forget the world for a bit and enjoy the peace of the day for what it is.

As I sit in contemplation, Elara comes down, looking happy and content with wet hair, damp skin, and a broad smile.

"I needed that," she states as she sits down with me. Jake brings over a plate of food with a mug of ale for her, and another for me. He looks around the bar, and then slides in next to us.

"Are you planning on staying long?" he asks. "I can put you up for a night, maybe two, but that’s it. Folk round here can get leery at strangers, and begging pardon, miss, but there are some who have bad history with your folks."

I give him a questioning look.

He responds with a shrug. "I have no issue with any kind of folk, but some in this village still hold onto long-dead grudges."

Elara looks at Jake. "Thank you for the warning, Jake. It’s appreciated." She gives him a warm smile and briefly touches her hand to his.

"Not a problem. I shall put you in room two, as you’ve already had use of it anyway. Seven copper each a night, to include evening meal and break of fast."

I pass over a tin coin. "Food and board for two days, possibly three, and the rest for your trouble," I pause. "And honesty. It’s really appreciated, Jake."

Once we have finished up our refreshments, we take our empties to the bar. "Thanks, Jake. We need to find someone called Vita. Can you point us in the right direction?"

"Old Vita? Sure. Head out the south gate and over the river at the ford. Follow the path for about five minutes, and you’ll see her cottage among the trees just off the path."

"See you later then for dinner, Jake." With a small wave, we turn and head outside. We still seem to attract the occasional look and even catch sight of a distinct glare sent our way as we pass.

‘Nothing queer as folk,’ I think to myself with a small shake of my head. As we head outside the village once more, I notice Misty has joined us again. I touch her mind. ‘Is everything alright?’ I ask.

I get back a confused garble, quite unlike any of her previous thoughts, then, ‘Confusing place, good, bad, both.’

I almost trip as I stop dead and look at my cat, a look of total shock on my face. Elara also stops and looks at me, puzzled.

"What's wrong, Del?" she asks, concern in her voice.

I shake my head in mixed wonder and amusement.

"Nothing, lass, my damn cat just spoke to me."