As she leaves, the small gathering still in the inn looks at her but says nothing. Farmers mostly it seems and mostly already left to tend to their fields as soon as the gates opened. No one stops her or tries to bully her. She just gets stared at with a very clear 'you don't belong here' stare, other than one or two that seem more bothered by her. Even their anger or fear filled stares are silent though.

As she moves toward the gate the sheriff troll is still standing there, leaning against the wall beside the heavy bar while a pair of boggans work with small cantrips to fix the damage to the walls. Claws and weapons were both used, as well as a few marks that suggest horns or antlers. It held and the damage is deep in places, but the boggans seem used to the work and are quick about it.

For his part, the sheriff just nods as Genny approaches. "Things have changed, Bloodhoof. We're defended now. We can fight too, if we have to. Seems you changed too. You look like you did then, but you smell different and feel different. You didn't try and open the gate like I figured you might. If you have, and if it were me, I'd go back where ever you been. You found a new chance. Go back to it. If you changed, you deserve more of a chance than anyone round here'll give you." Yeah. He might be a big and surly troll, but he's at least got a decent bone in there somewhere. Given a little time to notice it anyway.

She pauses, looking at the damage and then up at the troll. For a moment she's quiet before nodding. "I...don't remember exactly who I was before... and only some of what I did. There's a gap in my head." She shrugs, the words not a defense but a statement of fact. "all I can know 'r control is who i am now, an' I've got a family ta protect an' a quest ta complete. Long road before I can go back." Genny inclines her head, hitching the pack a little higher. "Thank ya fer the rest. I'll be along my way."

The troll studies her silently as she speaks but makes no move to stop her. When she starts out, he follows, as if making sure she really leaves, but before she can proceed far down the road, he calls "You're welcome back to rest as you go home if that's the case. We've got longer memories than you if you're speaking true. I won't let it be held against you." he assures. "But if you come back and it's a trick, I'll be the first to deal with you." he adds, too trollish to let it alone without the honest warning.

With that, he focuses fully on guarding the boggans as they work, even if he seems a touch put upon to do it. Even a troll can get tired of a duty that seems meaningless. None of the farmers outside working seem to feel the need for guards in the daylight.

It's a bit overcast so it's kind of dim, and the plants they grow seem a touch stunted now that they can be seen more clearly, as if that's the best sun they ever get. As she moves deeper down the trod, the signs of travel fade somewhat and the farms end much more quickly than they started. The village doesn't go far this way at all apparently. Soon, the trail forks with most of the traffic going to the left and the right side being more rough and worn, almost a game trail turned road like by travel. That right hand road is wilder and much darker with creeper wrapped trees lining the road and quickly becoming almost tunnel.

Genny pauses at the crossroad, absently rubbing her hoof against the dirt, as though scratching an itch. She looks between the paths and then shrugs and turns to the right. The easy path, in these situations, is NEVER the right one. So turning towards the ugliest way possible is the right thing to do. At least that seems to make sense to her little satyr brain. She sighs, looking back over her shoulder for a moment. "Bloodhoof...damn...wonder what I did..." Or what someone who looked like her did. She gives herself a shake then and heads off again.

It's not long before she's walking in twilight again and twisted vines and interlaced limbs hide the sky and filter the light into a faintly green tinted gloom. The sounds are a bit muted as well by the heavy growth about, but the pathway itself is mostly clear, just a scattering of leaves over dirt that doesn't make much sound under her hooves. Still, it's not long before there's that odd itch between the shoulder blades that just screams that someone is watching. Hard to ignore it, harder not to have expected it considering the surroundings.

After a little bit of enduring that, that almost itch twigs something familiar. Glamour. Scrying. Someone really is watching her as she walks. About the same time as she recognizes the fact of the spell, the wind finds a break in the limbs somewhere to begin to stir the air in a cool brush along her cheeks and it carries a faint whistling music, like a poorly made pipe of some sort.

At first she assumes it's Chago watching. He said he would and she's no so far into trouble that it'd be hard. Then the music touches her ears and she frowns. Pipes are not exactly Chago's style...like not his style at all.

She pauses, turning slowly in place, her eyes wide as she inhales, sniffing the breeze.

Pipes are certainly not her favorite redcap's style, no. Then again, neither is so much overwhelming vineage and such. He does like his cities, or his really open air stuff. Not much for a weird cross of halls and nature. But that's not as important as the wind. It the first truly moving air she's felt since going under the vines and it's filled with the heavy 'perfume' of the vines and the dying trees that support them. There's also a faint metallic tang to it, barely noticeable, but there to someone that's learned to pay attention to small details and there's a hint of other rot than just the trees.

As they thin breeze is again stifled by the heavy greenery, the music it carried vanishes too, leaving nothing but the trail.

Genny frowns, pawing the ground with one hoof and rubbing her fingers over the haft of her whip. It's been a while since she's been entirely on her own and a satyr is always more comfortable in a herd, even one made up of redcaps and other outcasts. She takes a deep breath, holding in the scent and the power of that breeze before snorting softly and continuing forward.

Back into the trudging along the trod and looking for... well...whatever it is. After a far too long gap of unchanging near twilight under the vines and limbs, a distant thumping reaches her ears, and a faint smell of smoke. Something is ahead at last, other than more trees and sounds of the forest.

And occasional feelings of more watching.

Yeah...satyr who worked at a strip club. Even if she wasn't on the poles she's used to being watched. Then again watched on a dark trod in this particular situation is a big chipping. She cocks her head as she hears the drums, the high animal ears on her head twitching. She brings the whip closer at hand, just in case. Then Genny keeps moving, though this is slower...the movements stealthy and moving with the foliage, wanting to see what's ahead before anything can see her directly.

Stolen story; please report.

As she continues, it comes clear that it's not quite drumming. It's hammering and chopping. The blows are just steady enough to seem to be a rhythmic beat. Another turn in the trail and she can see light ahead. A few more steps and she finds a pole driven into the soil with a carved sigil hanging from it. The pole is right at the edge of the vines too, marking a ring of healthy looking trees and a clearing in the middle where a couple of people are cutting trees and making charcoal. Neither of them seem to have noticed that they're being watched either. Well, that or they're used to it. The daylight is coming from a fairly sharp angle too, like it's much later than it should be.

She frowns, looking up at the light and then gives herself a shake. Well...in for a penny in for a pound. Genny moves out from the foliage, moving towards the folks. She needs to know where she is and not going to find out lurking in the vines.

The pair both look as soon as she appears and both go stiff. One murmurs "Bloodhoof." while the other looks away to check the pole and marker and then back to nod slowly in greeting. Both men, one with a hammer for splitting and the other with an axe, keep their tools in hand as they face her. The older, with the axe, takes a small step forward enough to be more the focus but not near enough to be a threat, or to get in reach of a whip.

"Never thought to see you back. Or able to pass my marks." the older man says in reserved tones. "Figured you died." he adds with a small tip of his head. "What brings you back to these dark woods?"

Genny checks her memories...at least the ones she knows about and comes up with a lovely blank...stupid gaps in the mind. She flicks her braid over her shoulder, before giving a nod of greeting. "Na dead yet, no." A slight pause before continuing. "I'm on quest...lookin' fer a direction fer my herd." another longer pause before she admits. "Don't know 'bout comin' back ta these woods. I don't remember my first time this way."

The older man tenses at mention of her herd and the younger lifts his hammer in reaction. "No, son." the old man snaps as he registers the motion, and the younger starts to protest, drawing a sharp "Tomas. Enough. She passed the wards I made. She can't be of this dark no more, at least not at the top."

He turns back and focuses on her again, once he's sure his son is under control. "Tell me about your quest and this herd. It's a new one, yes?" he asks as he looks her over, focusing on hooves and horns in turn as he speaks.

Genny tenses but doesn't even reach for the whip. See? She's growing as a person. She watches very carefully though, only relaxing once the hammer is lowered. The question about the herd gets a wry smile. "Far as I know. We only started formin' it in the last year 'r so, an' since it ain't got but me an one other fer goats I suppose it ain't a typical herd. Jus' seems as easy a word as corby, 'r flock', 'r what have you. Redcaps, trolls, a slinker...prolly pick up a few more. We're creatin' a family from scratch an' that takes time an' doin'." Careful to be honest, but not give too many details which might endanger anyone. "The quest...that's more fuzzy. We're tryin' ta settle a place back down the trod a bit an' our seer asked the question 'f how we can be safe and settled an' got told ta send me down the trod ta see what there was ta see an' return wi' what I found. So I'm seein'...but I ain't much findin'." Well, except for finding that she's not well liked around these parts.

The fellow listens carefully and nods to her words. "There may be something." he says. "Not sure how much help it is, but... the forest wasn't like this in your time, Bloodhoof. What turned it may be what you need to seek. Or what keeps it turned. Especially if you're with redcaps now. Suits what you were for certain." he notes idly as he speaks while thinking of other things. Then he pauses and licks his lips, weighing his possibilities. "Are you willing to risk what you've become to solve this quest? If I'm guessing right... well, I won't send you to it. Certainly not alone."

She considers for a moment before taking a deep breath and holding out her hand. "The seer who sent me is my Trueheart... He ain't a typical Cap and he ain't never steered me wrong before an' I can't let him down. Can't go back wi'out at least tryin' ta give us the home we want. Fer him an' fer that life I'm willin' ta risk whatever may come. He did as much fer me. I don't know much 'f my past, bu' I believe the future is what we make 'f it. I can do this."

The man nods slowly. "The Bloodhoof Truehearted. If you hadn't said it was to a redcap, typical or not, I'd find it hard to believe. All you ever held true to was your rage." He shakes his head slowly and waves it away then quickly. "That's past now. When you and yours went separate ways, they all stayed and found another to lead. He's made this forest what it is now. Don't know how he holds it against everything we try, but he does and he's been near worse than you ever were."

He goes thoughtful again. "Deep in the dark, he lives. He feeds on those unwary enough to be out at night. My ring will hold for a night and if you'll let me watch that whip, I'll let you stay in with us and we can maybe help you find what you need with some more time."

Genny can't help another little grin. "I'd show ya the bite marks, bu' that'd likely be an overshare." She listens to the rest and frowns, rubbing a circle on her forehead. "I wish I could remember...well...'r maybe best I don't. The past is what it is." She glances down at the whip and moving slowly, so the antsy kid with the hammer doesn't eat her, closes the peace clip over the whip and unlatches the whole thing from her belt, tossing it at the man's feet. "I'd much appreciate the help. I can't offer much fer payment in the way 'f coin...bu' it sounds like if I'm successful ya might get some 'f yer home back, an' maybe that can be enough."

The man nods and bends to carefully pick up the weapon and move it where she can see it's secure and that he's treating it with respect. Only when he's sure of it does he seem to finally fully relax. "Put it away, Tomas. She's not going to do anything."

Go figure, the younger puffs up. "But it's Bloodhoof, Poppa. She's not to be trusted. Remember what she did to..."

And that's as far as the likely late teen gets. "ENOUGH Tomas!" he snaps sharply. "Do it, or go home and tell the rest of the family what I'm doing. You can make it before dark if you remember what I told you."

He turns back to Genny then as Tomas puts away the tools and checks the fires. "Try not to judge him too harsh. He's got reason and we'll leave it there." he tells her. "My name is Tolliver. This is my working and he'll listen. Are you hungry? It isn't much tastewise, but it'll fill you."

Genny doesn't move during the little family altercation, knowing better than to jump into the middle of that. However, she's balanced so that if Junior runs at her she can kick him in the head...well...or the groin, she's not particular. She smiles then at the introduction and bows gracefully. "I am glad ta have met ya, Tolliver. I know you've another name fer me, bu' I generally answer faster ta Genny." She nods at the offer of food. "I've brought some 'f my own an' spices if ya'd like ta share." A glance towards the younger. "Which I'd be happy ta let ya check over before eatin' ta make sure they're only what they claim ta be. When I found myself again, I got inta cookin'." Yes, truehearted to a Recap and a chef...take that.

Tolliver chuckles softly. "Probably a good skill, with a redcap. Just don't ever show him what tastes good with goat meat. No need to give him ideas." he points out, smiling a bit. He reaches up to run a hand through his hair and then moves to do his own share of the work. "Long as you're eating it too, I can't say I'm afraid of you helping make it better. Way I remember it, satyrs like their comforts and pleasures too much for you to do anything to it. If you'll check on the stew, I can help Tomas put away things and bank the fires so we're all ready sooner."

"Oh, we already discussed what tastes good wi' goat meat..." Her eyes dance with amusement, "Bu' I am tryin' na ta over share. I'm told no one wants ta hear 'bout the bedroom activities 'f a Cap an' a goat, though damn ifn they wouldn't make a great novel." She moves over to the stew pot, settling to her haunches and pulling her pack off her back. A deep sniff and she nods and gets to work. She doesn't have much, but she couldn't help tucking a few packets of stuff into her pack. Everything is better with a kick...

It's basically a vegetarian stew with only a small amount of meat, and from the smell, the meat in it is a hard jerky that -had- to be stewed before anyone but a redcap could chew it, good food for folks working in the forest for days on end but not the best for flavor. As she checks and spices the stew, Tolliver walks off laughing and shaking his head. Maybe miracles do happen.