...He started a small fire, easily kept under control, and sat down. The rabbit was gutted and left to roast over the fire. He sat and closed his eyes for a moment. Owl floated across the glade and landed in a neaby tree. Wolf was lazing near the edge of the clearing...
...the fire was only embers and the occasional pop. He sat, waiting. He could hear someone moving through the wood nearby. They had been there a while. Two figures appeared at the edge of the small clearing, their faces lit for under by the embers. They both looked unsure.
...could see the cottage ahead of him. He walked up to the door and tried the handle. Locked. He looked at her, but she was still unconscious. Smith sighed, half stood her up and said "Excuse me", and started going through her jeans pockets. He found a keyring and tried it. The lock was a bit stuck, but opened. He swung her back up into his arms and went in, her feet first. The cabin was small, but smelt recently cleaned. He looked around and found a bedroom, lowering her down. She stirred and looked a bit panicked. "I guess this is where I find out you're a maniac."
... noticed that she was watching him through the door. He poured out the tea and brought it in. "Here, drink this."
... "...brought you food that will keep for longer. Some of it is canned. "
"....and meadowsweet infusion for the indigestion, right? ..Smith?"
...shimmered into existence in the Umbra. Smith looked at Owl, who gave a soft hooo and drifted off to the north. Smith flowed to the wolf form and waited for the change in his senses to make sense. He then loped off after Owl. He barely adjusted to the loping pace of the wolf when Owl stopped. Ahead he could hear the screaming of an animal in pain. Smith crept forward.
...whispered words of comfort to the deer spirit's crushed body. He hoped that it would reform, ignorant of the past. In the meantime, he had to deal with the fomor. Smith tailed them for the rest of the day, wondering whether he should return to his Sept for help. He was fairly sure he could deal with himself. Ellen had suggested a way for this sort of problem to be dealt with subtly, and he wanted to try it.
... decided not to take their truck - the noise would drive game away. They trudged several miles, not realising that Smith trailed them in the Umbra. They stopped, and one of the humans pointed out a doe ahead. The fomor grinned and said "My turn". He raised his shotgun to his shoulder and pulled the trigger...
...grinned in a mirthless way. Ellen's suggestion of just bending the barrel on the shotgun worked exceptionally well. The two humans were less than impressed at having to drag their half-decapitated comrade all the way back to their truck and then explaining to the police what had happened. Hopefully the two of them would be less confidant with their firearms and would not return. Smith followed them back to their pickup, and listened to their description of events to the cops. Satisfied, he headed back to the Sept...
"...still haven't told me what the cause celebere is?
Smith yawned. "It is nearly dawn, I should go." He stood up, a little unsteadily.
The water tumbled him around and around, bitterly cold, and banging him into rocks again and again. He couldn't find enough time to orient himself before being twisted and dumped down another two feet. A brief encounter with the surface let him gasp in air, but for too long, and he sucked in water also, coughing and choking, wasting what precious air he had -
...watched her from the woods. Roberta was carefully going over her herb garden. He watched her for a few moments, then walked over, in front of the cottage. He deliberately scuffed up the ground as he approached. Roberta still jumped.