"I woke up a month ago to find her gone. Not anywhere in the house at all. When I entered the sitting room, I found a letter, written in her hand and addressed to me." Bellamina reaches into a drawer by the sink, taking out a neatly folded, brown colored note. She holds it out, and Finn snatches it without thinking. With shaking hands, he carefully unfolds the parchment to find elegant penmanship written in a hasty scrawl.

"Belle, I must apologize. I can't stay here. Finn would never forgive me if I didn't try to find out what happened to Lady Breia. I'm going to see an old friend who could help me. I promise to be back as soon as I can be. You know what to do.

PS. If Finn ever finds his way here before I return, I send him all my love. Should he desire to find me, tell him to come to the temple of The Huntress. I hope to see you again soon, my dear friend.

With love,

Frida"

The halfling scans the note once, twice, three times. Setting it down, he sits back in his seat. In the dark silence, Amadeo rests a hand on his shoulder. "You gonna be alright?"

His companion doesn't respond, staring at the words on the page as though willing them to rearrange into something more acceptable. Bellamina pours the tea she brewed into several cups, the sweet leaf giving the tea a fragrant aroma like honey. "I'm sorry, Young Master. I couldn't protect either of them." Her hands shake as she sets a tray down to collect the cups, carrying them to the table to be laid out. "I'm so sorry, sir."

Tyrion reaches a hand out for Bellamina, shaking his head. "There's no blame to be laid on you, Belle. It's not much, but it's a lead. What worries me is where she went. An old friend, the temple of The Huntress..."

Hope leans against the wall, counting off on her fingers. "The Dawnmother, the Dread Lord, The Tender Heart, the Harbinger of Seasons, the Teller, the Tempest, and the Path Maker. Those are the only gods I know. Never heard of 'The Huntress'."

"You wouldn't. She's not part of the Seven." Tyrion strokes his chin, trying to calm down and drink tea. "The Huntress is a goddess worshipped by Lorelei's early settlers almost 400 years back. Those settlers also brought the seed from Gardenia that would become Ol' Stumpy. Her temple was built at the foot of the Arid Peaks, about half a day's walk from here. It's said the only way to get there is to follow a very carefully laid trail, but it's hard to find even for experienced trackers."

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"If your wife went there in search of help, she must be desperate. The Arid Peaks is not a place any sane person goes to." Amadeo unrolls a parchment from his pack, unfurling a map of Zorhana. "If this temple is just at the foot, we should be fine. But I don't expect we'll have an easy time finding it ourselves."

"Leave that to me. I'll get us there." Hope picks up a cup, taking a sip of the warm, sweet liquid within.

There's a shushing sound from the front room. Anna creeps toward the kitchen, ears perked and eyes looking to the ceiling. "Someone else is here." Her hand moves to the rod at her hip, and Tyrion grips his crossbow.

Bellamina rises, stepping away from the party. "No, it's not what you think." Even as she speaks, the creak of floorboards above alerts the party, now all standing. Hope moves cautiously toward the front door from the kitchen, Anna coming around the front room in a pincer maneuver.

Tyrion turns to Bellamina, loading a bolt. "Who else is here, Belle? I thought it was just you."

"I never said it was just me, Young Master." Her voice is low, gentle but concerned. "Please, everyone, there's no need to-"

Another creak and Anna rounds the corner, stopping dead. A little light floats halfway up the stairs; a candle, carried by a small hand. The other hand rubs at dull blue eyes set in a child's face, framed by a mop of curly auburn hair. "Belle? Is everything okay? I heard voi-" The eyes focus on the dark elf, pupils dilated to see the little creature in the dim light. Both give a sharp gasp of fright before Bellamina moves between the child and the others with lightning speed.

"It's alright, Rowan! These are our guests. Did we disturb your sleep, little bird?" The elderly cowfolk leans down, pulling at the startled Rowan's house coat to help cover their night gown.

"I dreamt that a great beast of metal and stone came to Lorelei, and I couldn't find you, and then Father-." Rowan sniffles, head burying into Bellamina's shoulder as the older woman caresses their cheek. "But now you're awake, and there's no beast here, eh?"

Tyrion looks between the two, head tilted as he lowers the crossbow. "Belle, what is this? I wasn't aware you had any children."

"Oh, this isn't my child. Introduce yourself, dear." Bellamina steps to the side, helping Rowan down the stairs.

At over 3 and a half feet tall, the child looks up to most of those gathered save Tyrion, who is only a few inches shorter. Brushing their nightgown a bit and moving the curly mop out of their eyes, Rowan bows politely with clasped hands.

Their voice is soft and a little meek. "Hello. I'm Rowan Breia Autumnsong. It's a pleasure to meet you all."