#baronyofthesilverwolf

"Gwen!" Art looks up. "Do you think that your mother would let us take one of those brandy-aged fruitcakes for a gift to Earth Runes? It feels odd to go with a request and empty hands."

"Ah!" Glue found, Thistle works on the lid.

"What we're going now?" SHe says , but she starts to sort through supplies "oh for the love.. Briaaarrr"

"We can't go on the trods alone."

"Okay okay.. I think the seasons for Fruitcakes is over... so she probably won't object. But if she does one of us maybe put to the test of helping with a new one" SHe pulls out a rather fancy UN Fruitcake looking one , rather pale

She leaves a note for her mom Going to Earth Runes with fledges. They wanted to pay respects to the hold. Nothing more respectful than one Marigold special fruitcake. PS: Briar has raided the cookies, not us! Love, your #1 daughter- Gwen

Gwen knows that, far from being upset that they took a cake, Marigold would have been aghast if they hadn't. Then again, Gwen knows her mom, AND she knows Hospitality.

Thistle makes a face at the re-glued lid. Is it perfectly flush?

It.... is! But why is the handle crooked? That should have been centered. The cookies will stay fresh, but.... squint... Thistle NOTICES it.

SHe finds a case for the fruitcake "Okay. You guys ready?"

SQUINT!

"C'mon!" Art is offering Thistle a cloak, chimerical but warm, from one of the closets. He has his staff, generally left as an afterthought when he's studying, but in hand now for the journey.

"Right, coming! Ooo.." CLoak!

Art pauses, and looks to Rochallor. "Did you want to come with us?" After all, it's better to be safe, and it MIGHT actually be the boy's birthday.

"NOpe. I don't have four legs right now"

Gwen says "Oh right, Blossom will want to go"

Rochallor races off... and .. Blossom returns, the slower pooka behind her

"We get to see Sir Sergei? " She is ready

They ALL have cozy scarves made by Marigold. Green and silver for Gwen, crocheted with flowers for Blossom, Rochallor's has a mistletoe sprig. Art's is black and silver - Ailil colors at first glance, but actually picked out in sparkling specks like stars. And Thistle... well, a rainbow, of course.

"Onward!" And they head to the trod!

"This is gonna be so cool..."

Dame Gladiola is all business "Stay close to me, when we get to the trod, stay on the silver, near the center..." And so on. Trolls can be buzzkills

The trod is lovely. Silver road, that fades almost into the silver snow that surrounds it. Almost, but not QUITE.

Art is wide eyed as always, gazing around them as they walk. Has it been minutes, or hours? Does it matter?

The sky is a cool wintery grey, making the landscape very monotone, yet beautiful as the snow glitters and gleams in the muted sunlight.

Gladiola has her spear ready, but notes "It's changed some... this is the Baroness' time. I can feel her influence"

"Kinda monochrome.."

That being said, she is LOOKING at everything.

Bloosom says "I used to get sick on th trod sometimes, but ever since I got sained? I'm good"

As they go further, stands of trees crop up along the path. Birch, tall and thin, white and striped with black.

Thin black stripes. Thin white trees. White of snow. Silver of path. Grey of stone.

Blue of eyes, Rochallor notices. Gazing intently from off to the west edge of the path

"Uhm. anyone allergic?" Roch asks

"Allergic? To snow?"

"Snow has claws?"

Now it's Blossom who notices, and hears the rumbling!

"Tiger over there" she says "I think

"

A striped beast, crouched, eyes on... Thistle!

"...Tiger?" Blink. She looks for it.

At least TWICE the size of it's mortal counterpart...

It's tail lashes as it readies for a leap! "Look out!" Art says!

"Don't step off the trod. " Gwen says and positions hself before Thistle!

They all see it now! A mighty snow beast, white of fang and fur, black of stripe and growl.

"Holy &^%^%$* &^^&( that is one ^%*( son of a-" That is NOT a probable nor comfortable lineage!

A ROAR, and it lashes it's tail back and forth! Eyes on Thistle, but it has intelligence in it's gaze, and it respects Gwen's spear.

Still, the very might of the voice is like a cold wind blowing across, stinging their faces and exposed Skin.

Well, Gwen does not notice it.

Art takes a step forward. "Fascinating. Do you think that the Tiger controls the weather, or is that a coincidental phenomenon?!"

"Art!" She hisses and grabs the tail of his cloak.

"You leave me and mine alone!"

He stops, or at least pauses. "It can't come on the path, though. I read about this. "No nightmare beast or creature of darkness may step upon the silver path." He looks to Gwen. "Right?"

"Unless it's a tiger pooka?"

"Do they make predator pooka?"

"I think. The book was in the old-ish English, it was hard to translate. Do Pooka COME in tigers?"

He looks over and calls, "Hey, are you a Pooka?"

"Art! gett close tto me. no it is not safe for the unsainned"