The Trickster could feel which way the Glade of the Gods was, in the same way she could feel the change of the seasons. While autumn was turning to winter all around, in the direction of the Glade you could feel a faint whiff of spring. It was quite convenient; before Bounty had fallen asleep and lost control of her power, you could only rely on your sense of direction. The Trickster's plan was to keep the Glade on her left side for a few days, and then after circling around the cultists and Magnus, heading towards it as fast as she could. Once there, she should be able to gather allies to help protect her. Trilan, Bringer of Storms, had always been nice to her; he would probably keep at least the cultists off her back. And Cloe, god of the home, disliked Magnus, and would possibly protect the Trickster to spite him. Not that the Trickster could rely on that; the events that had led to Cloe and Magnus dissolving their friendship had happened before the Trickster was born. Possibly Magnus had broken a doll of hers or something.

Her plan did rely on her keeping on moving, which at that moment was a problem.

"Get away," the Trickster hissed, from up a tree. She waved a hand violently at a goat standing below. The goat bleated happily.

Her misfortune happened after she had ransacked Alice's wardrobe for clothes that screamed "80 year old witch" a little less loudly than her old ones. Now they screamed "perfectly innocent farmwife, honest" which was slightly better. She had gone outside, prepared to leave, but had decided that since Alice was a little preoccupied, the Trickster should release all her farm animals so they wouldn't starve. The chickens scattered, the cow wandered off, but the goat had taken a dislike to the Trickster's apparent habit of approaching goats and then not feeding them. This would have probably sorted itself out by now, had the goat not decided that the Trickster's hair looked delicious.

"Hello, there!"

The Trickster looked down from her tree branch, and for a moment, all she could see was forest. Then she noticed the young witch in a green cloak waving at her.

"Hello," the Trickster said, aiming for a casual "of course I didn't let a goat outsmart me" tone.

"I haven't seen you around here before," the witch said, with a dismaying lack of offers to help deal with the goat.

"Yes, I'm a little out of my way. I'm trying to avoid the cultists."

"Ah, yes," the witch said, nodding. She blinked slowly, then pointed a bit to the right of where the Trickster had come from. "They're that way." They had moved, then.

"Good to know."

"So," the witch said, her voice friendly. "Why are the cultists after you?"

"Pardon?"

"You're not a witch. Why would they be after you?"

The Trickster was regretting changing from her witchy offcasts. "I..." drawing a blank, she decided to tell the truth. "I'm not a witch, but I do have a witch in my head."

"What? Where?" The witch came up to stand next to the goat, and stared at the Trickster's head for a moment. "Oh. there she is. She is in charge of your memory?"

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"I guess," the Trickster said.

"Why would you let her do that? You know that means she can trick you into doing whatever she wants, right?"

"Huh? How does that work?"

"Really? Just think about it."

"Think about--what were we talking about again?"

"Really?"

"I'm joking, come on! My witch wouldn't do that."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Cassie said. "This banter is all very well and good, but we have a timetable we need to follow. Witch, would you mind keeping that goat away from us?"

The witch nudged the goat a little away from the tree, and the Trickster gingerly climbed down. The goat eyed her hair hungrily.

"Can you tell it that I'm not edible?" the Trickster asked. The witch crouched down and looked into the goat's eyes. The goat bleated.

"The goat says that if you steal that many acorns, you probably taste like them," the witch said. "Oh, wait, you're the acorn stealer?!"

"What?! I -- that squirrel is a lying scoundrel, you can't believe anything he says!"

"I never said it was a squirrel who said so."

"It was one acorn, and I didn't steal it! It... just got misplaced in my bag," the Trickster finished lamely.

"That's what they all say," the witch said, then considered it. "No, most thieves give better excuses than that."

"Stupid squirrel," the Trickster muttered.

"You know, it's strange," the witch said, looking at the Trickster with an odd stare. "They say you're the only god who can deliberately lie, but you're so bad at it." The Trickster froze.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Come on. You let me look at your head."

"Oh. Damn."

"Yes. Aren't you supposed to be tricky?"

"Well, for your information, I wasn't lying, so I guess you are just not good at telling the truth. And all gods can lie, not just me."

"In any case, I let you down from the tree because I need your help."

"Is that allowed? You're a witch, isn't that being a traitor to Magnus?"

"No, because I'm doing it to save another witch. Well, warlock. My brother's in trouble."

"This will mess with my timetable," Cassie said quietly in the Trickster's head. "You can do this, but you will get hurt. A lot."

"How is that any different from my normal life?" the Trickster muttered, then nodded at the witch. "I'll help. And that way you won't have done me a favour with the goat."

"Thank you," the witch said, relaxing a little. "But your curse is very strong, so I'm sorry for this, but just in case..."

"Wait!" the Trickster said, as the witch stepped away from her position in between the Trickster and the goat. The goat looked the Trickster in the eye for a moment, then focused on her hair. The goat stepped forward.

"Nooooo--!'