The months flew by, fall gave way to spring and spring to summer. The eventual change of seasons, the inevitable sequence of one moment moving to the other, and of events that must come to pass, came and showed that no matter the desire of humanity things will change. Both the good and the bad, both in development and in decay, the cycle of the universe is within the tiniest segment of its construction, and through the spinning of the wheel of time I was allowed the arrival of my reunion with the one that had showed faith, blind faith, in me.

 On the road between villages, with Ard somewhere within the vicinity, I was walking towards my old home, my old village. Nearly a year has passed, and the street was covered in the sacrificed leaves of trees, the ground as if trying to mimic the color of fire laid out before me. Twisting turns, sometimes straight paths, always guided by the flat land made by man's trampling.

 My clothes weren't the same as what I had left with. That's obvious, I had left without a tunic and only wearing my trousers, and my belt. Now, I had shoes, a new pair of trousers, a tunic that hugged my closely, and a cloak without a hood. Most of it was of a basic design, a single color. But some parts of my tunic had the decorations of flowers, something the faeries had in abundance.

 And my spear, one I had been gifted by Aoibheann and her sister. It was like Ard's but less decorated, and obviously much larger. Roughly six feet tall, although it was taller than I was it was the perfect height for the martial art Ard had been, and still is, teaching me. Besides this, and besides from what is essential for travel like a small bag for foodstuffs and a waterskin, I was without anything. Not that this was a bad amount of things to carry.

 Right now, the path was clear ahead, and the sight of farmland was apparent. My recollection of what has happened throughout these months have assaulted me throughout the journey. The sight of Brenna's soulless body had for the past few days haunted my nights, and the possibilities of what my arrival would bring had similarly cost me many nights of sleep. But now as the sight of farms that had already harvested their cereals slowly began to fill my sight, my anxieties could finally be put to the test. Whether I would be right in my incessant worrying, or simply foolish.

 For a moment no one looked to have noticed my arrival. Familiar faces that I hadn't seen for months brought sensations in me I didn't know were possible. But I kept my face as neutral as it could be, ignoring the turmoil that had slowly begun to wreak havoc inside me. But the man, at least I hope I looked like a man, with a spear, casually walking between the paths in farms, wasn't a sight that could be ignored.

 People have noticed my arrival, and as they were only a few their reactions weren't varied. One had a shocked face, and two others almost immediately began to whisper among themselves. The reactions weren't as great as I thought they would be. No one bothered me, no one called my name, if they even knew it. I couldn't see the face of my father, and neither could I see the familiar sights of any other my family. So I walked straight to the herbalist's house, as she was the one I had to report to. No one else mattered.

 Nostalgia for a time that hadn't been all that long ago filled my heart. Each thump sending a new wave of a sensation that made me feel as if I would pass out from the weight of it, at one moment I felt as if my heart had skipped a beat over the anxiety. Each step was accompanied by a step of my spear, I was using it as if it was a walking stick, and thankfully it never hit the branches above that canopied the path to the herbalist's home.

 The sight was familiar, save for what looked to be a slightly less kempt garden. A light was emanating from inside the house, the entrance showing that someone was still inhabiting the place. What now? How do I greet her? Could I greet her? Should I? These thoughts kept running in my mind, and I couldn't stop them. My breathing almost overtook me, and it took me a second to gain back enough control over myself to ignore the thoughts

 Standing next to the entrance way, my breathing controlled and my eyes closed, I counted to five, and then opened my eyes and took a step forward. I turned my head and looked inside of the building and was met with the sight of Doireann, Brenna's little sister who should be either seven or eight by now, alone and doing something with the various herbs the herbalist would keep in her cabinets. She was already looking at my direction before I had even revealed myself to the entrance, so she must've heard my arrival.

 But she's alive? The fever hadn't killed her? The divine are merciful, after all. Her eyes were wide, and the light brown of her iris was plain to see in the contrast of her sclera, the light tan that was a lighter shade than both her mother and her departed sister was clearly visible as well. She wasn't sick, but she was surprised. She sat whatever container she was holding and began to speak.

 "Attie?"

 I nodded.

 "You're alive?"

 I nodded.

 Doireann looked around as if trying to find something. She got up, previously squatting down, and hurried towards me. She wasn't running as she spoke, "Gotta find mom!" But immediately after leaving the entrance and moving pass me, she broke into a sprint into the village proper. Looks like the herbalist would be there rather than in the house. Should I follow her? No, I'll stay here. Anyone who needs to be around for my coming back would come here, and if I went I'd be attracting too much attention.

 So I stood outside the entrance and counted the seconds as they went by. With Doireann still in the picture I could be roughly sure that the herbalist wouldn't want me dead regardless of having come back, and that she wouldn't have a massive incentive to just up and leave the village regardless of my survival. Throughout the year given to me to think, I had come up with too many possible scenarios for this moment. None of them included Doireann moving past me and running to catch her mother, without affirming anything beyond my name and the fact I was alive.

 Four minutes passed by in what felt like twice as long. Doireann could be seen running back, and behind her the herbalist. Looks like she wasn't with the chief, nor did she think to tell anyone else about my arrival. That makes things slightly less complicated, a fortunate thing. I straightened out my back and looked towards the herbalist, and she at me with an expression I couldn't understand. It looked like she was in caught between heart wrenching terror, and, well, no that's it. She was terrified.

 I waited for both of them to arrive. Doireann was thoroughly out of breath, and the herbalist once she arrived was in a better state than her younger daughter, at least in terms of breath. Her hair was unkempt, and her clothes slightly dirty, I could faintly smell her body odor even from here. She wasn't in the best condition. The instant she had gotten close enough to touch me she grabbed my shoulders, brought me closer to her face, and then started to move my head around with her hands. I don't know what she wanted to accomplish, but I let her do whatever she wanted.

 "You're alive."

 I nodded. Her face had stopped looking as if she had just laid witness to someone being skinned alive, and instead turned into the look of a mother deep in worry. The herbalist looked me down, from my shoes that weren't of the design of the villages, to my clothes that were made of nettles rather than either linen or cloth. The nettles part was something I had learned a couple months back when I had managed to convey to Ard the question of what material were my clothes made from.

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 "Did you meet with faeries?" A sudden question coming still from the herbalist. I nodded. She drew me into a hug, a strong one that told me that if I tried to escape she would only squeeze me tighter. It almost hurt, but I was a big enough boy to not be hurt by such a squeeze anymore. I'm taller than her, after all. Unsure of what to do, I waited for her to let go of her hug. But she didn't. Instead I heard the slight sound of her crying in my ear, and at that moment I couldn't be so indecisive. I hugged her back, not too tightly but to show that I was right here.

 Why the herbalist cared enough about me to both trust me in not having murdered her daughter, and to cry over the relief of the knowledge that I hadn't. Isn't she too nice? I'm not sure if this is the normal reaction to dealing with someone who's taken away something as precious as a life from you. But regardless of any of that, the truth was that she did care enough to cry. I held her until she released herself, me catching glimpses of Doireann awkwardly shifting in place both trying to both catch her breath and unsure of how to deal with her crying mother.

 Eventually the herbalist let go of her grip on me, and with a voice that spoke of having just cried, she asked, "Have you really? What proof do you have?"

 I looked at her. I don't think she was doubting me, but it was as if she adopting a formality rather than a sincere question. I gave her my spear and when she grabbed it I pointed at my clothes and my shoes. None of these things were normal. The spear was crafted of a chert blade, a very white stone that was a lot like flint, and an ash pole. It was very similar to the pole I had been given for practice, but of course it had the actual blade. I wasn't fully adjusted to having to deal with the extra weight of the stone, no matter how small it is in reality, but I could use it well.

 The herbalist nodded. "Anything else?"

 "Can we meet the faery?" Doireann, finally having caught her breath and hsving resumed to breathing normally, asked. Could we meet her? I don't know. I knew Ard was around somewhere, she had told me she preferred not to be seen if she could help it. If I had her around I think I could convince the villagers much more easily of my innocence. I looked around, but caught no sight of her. I could very literally yell but I don't think that'd be appropiate. I haven't figured out how to articulate words while creating a loud voice, so calling out her name was out of the question.

 I shook my head at Doireann's question. She deflated somewhat at that, but it wasn't too noticeable.

 "Anything else, Attie?" The herbalist asked her question once again. I could speak, I think that'd be proof of something. So tried.

 "N-no." My voice came out with a slight accent, one I didn't recognize. It wasn't the herbalist's accent, I could tell that much. Was this the result of learning how to speak in Ard's tongue rather than my own first?

 The herbalist's eyes went wide. Doireann looked surprised, but not in the same way the herbalist was demonstrating, my old master looked like I had just shot her in the heart with my simple word. "You can speak!?"

 "Y-ye-yes." I might be getting worse at this, or was it the nervousness of introducing my new found skill that was making me stutter so much? The herbalist placed a hand on her chest, and took a single step back, her eyes as wide as they could possibly be. But then a smile started to appear on her face, and she moved her hand towards her mouth, and then her forehead, and then towards her side.

 "Then follow me. I think we have enough evidence of your innocence to convince the Chief with. It's unspeakable the amount of reassurance your arrival has brought to me, it's nearly the middle of fall and your late arrival was starting to cause me great worry."

 I nodded. The herbalist began to walk, and I followed her. Doireann also came with us, continuing the pattern of being entirely unsure of what to do in this situation. Through the passage that served as the path between the herbalist's hut and the village, and through the paths laid between farms, and towards the Chief Ronan's home. Anxiety over meeting him also welled up, but in comparison to what I had felt in meeting with the herbalist, his was a minor pain a most.

 Ignoring the looks of the villagers as we walked by, and thankfully, or unfortunately, not seeing the sight of my parents or siblings even now, we made it to his home unhindered. The large house on top of the hill, just as I have always known it to be. The Chief couldn't be seen outside, and the herbalist without regard of etiquette walked straight into the house. Not having any other alternative, I and Doireann walked in with her.

 I've been in here before, of course. It looks like most other houses, pots were laid around in some areas, baskets filled with various goods in others. The only major difference was the addition of another room, one that housed the chief's bed. Otherwise, the fire was where fires should be, the loom where the loom should be, and any trophies or decorations laid about wherever aesthetically pleasing. There were a lot more trophies than most, I'd give it that. I couldn't catch sight of the bear's fur so I think the chief had managed to sell that already.

 And, most importantly, the Chief was inside. His two wives weren't anywhere to be seen, when was the last time I spoke to either of them? Have I ever? No, get back on track. The herbalist sat near to the fire that the Chief was sitting near, and both of them wordlessly waited for both Doireann's and my arrival. I sat next to the herbalist, and Doireann not wanting to sit between me and the chief sat between her mother and the chief instead.

 Once everyone had taken their positions, the Chief was the first to speak. ""You're back."

 I nodded.

 "And with fancy new clothes as well. It fits you well, stealing such a well fitting article would be a massive stroke of luck, wouldn't it?"

 I nodded, not having anything to respond to that.

 "As per the agreement, and since I want to respect the herbalist's condition of whether or not to sue, you will not be sued for the murder of Brenna, the daughter of I'tidal, as I find you innocent of killing her with malicious intent. And since you are without wounds, you have no cause to sue against the herbalist for her daughter's assault. As much as it pains me to say those words."

 I nodded, once again.

 "But I'm not convinced. What proof can we go on for you innocence? The superstition of a herbalist isn't always reliable. Convince me, Attie. Leave this room and give me no reason to doubt your innocence, for your future habitation of this village to go without more trouble than necessary."

 The herbalist spoke up before I could, "His spear and his clothes should be enough of a sign. Look at the spear's blade, it's made of stone, and look at how it's crafted. It's smooth, and the edge as sharp as the sharpest copper, either it had never seen use or it's been made with an entirely different process than what ephemeral craftsmen could produce."

 Still holding the spear within her hand, the herbalist gives the long spear over to the Chief and he takes it within one hand. Careful not to get the wood over the fire, he brings his sight closer to the chert and looks it over, touching his finger and scraping it against the edge. He nods. "What else?"

 "His clothes. They don't look to be made of either linen or wool, some other strange material. And how would he come across clothes both so well kempt and so well fitting? The tunic he's wearing almost hugs his skin, who else but Attie could wear the clothes?"

 The Chief looks me over and extends his hands. Did he want a piece of my clothing? I took off my cloak and handed it to him. He looked it over, bringing it close to his eyes to see the individual threads that make up the clothes makeup. He nods, putting the cloak on his lap, not giving it to me. "What else?"

 The herbalist looks frustrated at this point. She clears her throat, peeks at me, and then answers, "He can speak."

 The Chief turns his head at her and then immediately towards me. I nod, not knowing what else to say, but he frowns in return to the gesture. I'm an idiot.

 "Y-yes," Trying to find the next words, what were they? How do you pronounce them? "Ch-ch-Chi... Chiefff"

 His eyes grew wide at my words. They might be spoken with the elegance of a fear stricken and dying rat, but it's words that I had never been able to speak before. This is the best proof over something more than natural having went on after I had been forced to leave the village, save for showing them Ard directly. The chief recovered quickly and finds himself into a deep state of concentration. Did that convince him? I had nothing else to give to him if this failed, and neither did the herbalist.

 The Chief nods. "I'd be a stubborn old fool to hold serious doubts after all this. Very well, Attie. I find you entirely innocent of murder, but I don't find you innocent of having killed Brenna. None of this takes back what you've done, and since I've heard of what the herbalist's theory of what had happened, I'm certain you could've found a way to avoid her death. But that is a conversation for a later time. Go meet your parents, I doubt they'd want you to stay here when you could be meeting with them."