For the next while, as the sun sets rapidly, the three are able to each focus on tasks and things get done quickly. When everyone, and all the food, is ready to eat, Tomas watches her take a bite before he withdraws as far as the small clearing allows and sits with his back to her as he eats.

Tolliver, on the other hand, is both neighborly and well mannered, with complements for the food and praise and thanks for the help. He doesn't turn back to serious matters until the meal is finished though, and then he rolls a cigarette and leans back. "Time hasn't been right always since this vine grew. It's like it feeds on that as much as the land and the trees. Things just ain't right and it's getting worse. Way I see it, if you can break up whatever it is doing it, you'll pay back any debt you might think you gained in letting me help you."

"I don't know a lot about what came after you, or why you left for that matter. No one does. What's told is there's a beast that's all black and white and blood red. It took over those you left behind. They've taken to painting themselves up like he is and you can always tell when you're to close by the smell of them nasty beasts and by the sounds. Seems they're taken with evil music. They make instruments out of what they don't eat and play them all the time. Never sounds right, like the instrument is crying as it's played." he explains. "If you want to find them, follow the music. It will lead the way."

Genny nods, munching happily. It's not hot beans and enchiladas, but it'll do. Once finished she curls up and listens to the tale told. She's aware of the unhappiness of Tomas, but not much she can do about it, so she ignores him. Well...in a watching her back for anything being shoved into it way. She sighs and shakes her head. "I have ta admit that it's rather disconcertin' ta find a mess I don't remember. Jus' as well I get a chance ta poke at it fer fixin' it." She ponders and nods. "I felt a somethin' watchin' an' heard pipes. Strangled ones. So it prolly won't be a surprise ta them when I get there."

"Little happens under the vines that they don't know about." Tolliver agrees. "I suspect they know you're coming, yes. And your old herd will remember you so they'll know who is coming."

As he explains, the growing lateness suddenly advances noticably and within moments of the insta-night, voices can be heard in the darkness of the outer forest. "Come home. Bloodhoof. Come back to us." Young and old. Male and female. Different places. The voices come, changing with each message. As Tolliver looks about, turning from one pole he set to the next, a final voice joins the chorus, a young female, barely out of childhood. "Come back Nieve. You promised."

She tilts her head as the voices start up, absently fishing through her pack until she comes up with a small jar. She opens it, which brings the scent of cinnamon. Hey, she had a list of stuff for the trolls to bring from Kink too. As she listens to the voices she begins to work on her hooves, a nice very not red enamel which takes the dust off. A horse pick is brought out as well, since she's pretty sure there's a stone that needs taking care of. Using the mundane tasks to keep her focus on the moment. "Promises...are interestin' things. They depend on a weight 'f memory an' belongin'." The words are spoken in Tolliver's general direction. She flicks the invisible ring on her finger. "I know these promises." A glance towards the darkness. "I don't know those ones."

The voices are all it takes to have Tomas on edge and looking toward his hammer once again. Tolliver seems to settle when he's found his ring to be intact though. He turns back to her as she deals with the mundane tasks and speaks, listening and nodding.

"Smart goat." he says after in a slightly more respectful voice. "It's a siren's call you're hearing. Promises. Offers. Lures. Anything the woods know about to draw you into the night." He gestures to her hand and nods. "That's real. Those... don't listen to them. Sometimes they might give what's asked for, but eventually the price is too great. It's just another trap of the new beast in the dark."

Then it's his turn to go stiff and look to his tools, in his case the axe, as silence suddenly replaces the calls and temptations. The sudden lack of sound is almost more oppressive than the noise as not even a single insect disturbs that void.

"Mmm...yes. Legend says the first satyrs were reborn by way of Greece...all tied up ta the stories there. We know the Sirens... Some say the first old satyrs gave the Sirens their song." She chuckles, even as the silence voices begin to fall away. "I'm jus' as glad I prefer cookin' ta singin'." She listens as the silence deepens and frowns, watching the affect it has on Tolliver and Tomas. Then she glares out at the darkness for a moment before drawing her attention back. "Now the other side 'f perversity. If ya can't pull 'em out wi' noise, push 'em around with silence. Typical and borin'." She looks back at Tolliver. "What else can ya tell me 'bout this trod?"

Tolliver shakes his head at her words here, disagreeing for the first time. "No... the silence... it only comes when..." And his words are cut off by a sudden music, filled with pain and horror as its light tune carries across the still air. The song itself is very martial sounding, like a march almost, but lighter. Well, that describes it if one only considers the notes and the tune. The spirit of the song, that intangible part that real musicians make magical, is where the horror of the music comes. "When the beast comes himself." Tolliver finally finishes with a small shudder.

He gestures for Tomas and moves to get his axe, then gestures with his other hand to offer Genny her whip as the pair of them arm themselves. Further up the path of the trod, in the darkness, sounds of hoofsteps can be heard with the approaching music and both men turn to face it, risking her at their backs as the lesser danger to an unseen song.

Well, that just takes all the fun out of talking about food and other things. Genny rolls to her feet, scooping up the whip and unhooking the safety clip before she turns towards the music. She gives a little stretch, taking on a look of bored indifference. Beasts...she knows about beasts.

Finally. A confrontation. Unfortunately, the beast in charge of the things in the night doesn't seem to want the same sort of confrontation. The music comes closer, but before anything can be seen the footsteps stop. After a moment, there's a flash of movement and a round object, maybe a foot across, is tossed into the clearing.

If it's not lashed apart in midair, it can be recognized as a bodhran when it lands. It's made oddly for such an instrument though. The ring, usually made of wood, is instead made from two bones lashed together. The skin is a blueish shade like might come from troll skin, and even the striker is shaped bone.

After a few more moments, the march style music begins again and the sound of hooves withdraws with it. There's a slight change to the music though, as if it lacks something... a drumbeat.

Genny lets the thing drop, not making any move toward it but waiting as they draw away. She frowns a little then and moves forward. "Hrm..." She kneels without touching the drum. She knows better. "Na so friendly ta make instruments out 'f one's enemies...'r friends." A glance to Tolliver. "any insight ya feel like sharin'?"

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Tomas' hands shift slightly on the hammer he holds, just in case, when Genny moves up to the drum. Tolliver relaxes as the hoofbeats withdraw and turns as well to watch Genny closely but without as much sign of being ready to attack. He steps over and looks at the drum himself, then nods. "A few."

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly after those words, before kicking the drub into the fire with a sudden snap of his foot. Almost as soon as the flames touch the bodhran, a fresh scream fills the area and the withdrawing figure in the darkness can be heard to laugh before moving out of earshot totally.

"That's first." says Tolliver after the screams die down. "Rumor was this beast trapped a piece of his victims in his creations. Looks like that much was true." he explains then with a nod to the fire. "My second insight is you need to face this thing, I think. If you were sent this way, your challenge is likely here. That trod doesn't go much farther in this world at this time. I honestly don't know what his power source is, but I believe the beast to be a satyr and to be aided by a sidhe or a nocker. His devices speak of building beyond what your kind is known for. Considering that, especially if it is a sidhe aiding him, I think the rumors may be true about his power though."

He pauses again then, drawing out a small flask and taking a drink, then offering it over. The contents smell strong enough for even Chago to take notice too. "Rumor says they have corrupted a balefire to fuel their works." he finally finishes. "It leaves you with a choice. Try and find them in the day when you have the advantage, but they're hidden or seek them in their power, so you -will- find them, but in their strength."

Genny snorts, giving the single finger salute to the darkness and muttering in Spanish. Most of it is unkind and some anatomically impossible, even for a satyr. "Ya know...this is where I wish I could have a discussion wi' the folks what think that unseelie is evil. That shit is evil. Unseelie is jus'...a way 'f lookin' at things." She growls and paces a few steps, kicking up dust until she realizes she's doing it and makes herself stop. Not nice to get dust on the folks keeping you in their circle. "Ain't much gonna matter when I go, though I'll try for recon in the daylight at least." She takes a deep breath and then drops the whip at Tolliver's feet again. "Now...I need ya ta tell me at least a little 'bout what I used ta be. Enough that I kin understand what they're lookin' fer. Keep that...an if the tellin' drives me wild then do what needs doin'." She pauses. "Then run fer it befer my Trueheart gets here, cause he'll be pissed, even if it was the right thing."

Tolliver nods slowly at first, then shakes his head. "No. I won't run. If he's your Trueheart in fact as well as word, he'll keep hunting until he finds me anyway and if he's at all redcap, he'll go through far more than I'd be willing to lose, even for doing the right thing. If I have to do what you ask, I'll wait and pay the price."

He puts away his flask and pats his pockets until he finds a pipe and tobacco and gets it lit before speaking again, using the time to gather his thoughts.

"It wasn't so long ago this land was held by a dark ruler. He cared for himself and his pleasures and little else." Tolliver explains then, starting the story where he feels it needs to begin. "Most people didn't mind his rule for he mostly left them alone, and no one knew the worst because it never touched them. His rule came to a bloody end when his choices came back on him. If you remember anything at all, you know more of the truth of this than me."

He takes a few draws from his pipe then to watch her and plan the next bit of his story. "It wasn't long after that Bloodhoof first appeared in our lands. Her fur and her face were stained with blood and her hooves were thick with signs of her battles. She would hunt down any who wore the baron's mark and she ripped them apart with tooth and hoof and horn and nail. None were safe, and none who protected them were either, even if it was only out of duty or fear that they stood in her way. She spoke not and she gave no quarter. Soon others that hated joined her and she led by force of will and terror of her retribution. She went where she would and took all who were of the old baron and knew aught of the truth. Her herd was less focused though and she did not stop them, so long as they did not stop -her-."

Genny blinks and looks around the forest, more slowly this time. She sighs and settles back down, reaching for the fur cream. It's very obviously something to do with her hands while she ponders. "I...I didna realize this was where the trod sent me. I didn't recognize it. Been so long an' it was all different then." She sighs, shaking her head. "Bits 'f that I've dreamed, bu' wasn't sure what was dreams an' what was real. Started somethin' an' didn't finish it."

Tolliver gestures with his pipe. "That way. We're on the farthest borders. Most of what's known of you here is rumor and hearsay and made up from what your herd did." he explains before settling back into 'storyteller' mode. "Anyway, as I was telling you, her herd was less focused than her. I think it's why things got as bad as they did. She had her hatred to protect her. Her madness became a thing of power itself. It spread to the others with her and they became worse as she continued to kill. As the leader, she was blamed for all that was done. Her face was known to all and her mark, the stomped bodies of her foes, was burned into all our memories. To my knowledge, she never killed one that wasn't involved with the Court though. I thought she finally got what she wanted, truth to tell. From what I saw, she either wanted to die, or expected to. That lack of caring for her own life is why she won the battles she did. One who has nothing to lose is almost impossible to beat. Most everyone else thought her herd was finally mad enough to kill even her or that she finally spread her madness to a point she was free of it and started to lead from the darkness."

He looks out at the night again for a moment, after making sure she seemed to have a grip on herself. Then he focuses on her again. "It's hard to tell of Bloodhoof and not tell too much. She was a force as much as a satyr. Much of what she is said to have done is either another putting blame on her, or fantasy of the darkest sort. You go deeper into the lands and you'll see she's become the story to scare children born since into minding. In a few more years, you'll likely not be recognized, even by someone that survived you because the legend will be too big for even a satyr's hooves. I think what I told you of though is the truth without any of the stories that have already grown up in it. You'll need someone closer to who you were to tell you more sure and more detail. The price would be too high for me to go further."

Genny nods, rubbing her fingers together before putting the cream away. "I don't need much more. I kin fill in the blanks from the way stories work. Jus' as well na ta get inta details. I'm sure I'll hear enough 'f them from the beast once I go after him." She takes a deep breath. "Back then...well...I had my reasons fer my hatred, at least at first. Never meant things to become what they did an' I'm sorry fer it. I ain't a perfect person an' don't expect ta be, but I ain't that evil either. Given a choice I'll put a stop ta what's in front 'f us. Maybe there will be other stories fer yer younglin's." She hooks her arms around her knees. "There should be some sleepin' now I expect. Tomorrow I'm goin' huntin'...this time hopefully the blood spilled will be fer better cause."

Tolliver nods and bends to pick up her whip again, then tosses it near one of the banked fires for making the charcoal. "I'd recommend you bed down there, Genny. There'll be enough heat from the banked fire to keep you warn until sunrise." A quick gesture follows before Tomas can protest and Tolliver moves to his own bedroll. "Nights are long anymore. Don't worry about having talked too late. Just remember days are short when you hunt tomorrow. If you need a place to come back to, remember us. I'll give you one." No more talk of stories or pasts. Just the acceptance that he showed and a last bit of advice before he lays down and turns his back on her.

It only takes a moment for Genny to settle in. Warm fire trumps bloody stories...well...at least for a while. She wakes several times through the night and looks around, shivering at what dreams bring her, but falling quickly back to sleep. By the time the wan morning makes it she's awake and reworking the fires and breakfast.