#rivervale_lodge

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The weekend after Thanksgiving. And Gerd is flying

The young girl is dressed warmly, of course, and twirls trailing leaves.

Around her neck, a small moonstone with a wolf head howling. Below her, real barking, as Edelweiss and Oak do not always like her flying. Also, alongwith leaves, she drops snausages.

So leaping great Pyrenees fae hounds bounce up , snapping them, with Brown Dog making his efforts to keep up.

(Brown Dog. It is a proper name)

A smile, "Wow! good Jump, Edie! Go get it, Oak! Brown Dog, you can do it!"

The skyblue girl love flying. And she likes the dogs but sometimes she feels a bit lonely, even with Connor around. She eyes the DeBuke footbridge.

"Well, they are our allies" ZZOOooom

and she flies through with a pop and... GONE

................

With the Feast of Gratitude with the great Wolf visitor done, it is a slow day at Rivervale.

And yet a weekened. Siv finds herself free-ish.

And unaware that she's aabout to get a visitor at the lodge door.

The trod opens some distance away - but this visitor does not come from the trod. No, rather, a silver volvo is parked a few blocks away.

A gentle rap on the door.

A great ghost white Fae hound is startled! Very few things get past him! Okay, maybe the snaausage from heaven incident earlier softened him but darn it!

Siv says "Well, aren't we slipping on the job?" She teases poor Oak, then opens the door "Aye I..oh! Please, come in" then she lowers her voice a bit "I mean, welcome to Rivervale."

The white-haired sluagh sweeps into a formal bow, one spidery hand splayed across her narrow chest. "Hail, Rivervale."

"So, I can call ye Zara here , right? And you should call me Siv. here please, come in. Most of us are out right now, so it falls to me to play hostess. Which I so rarely get to do. Have a seat anywhee ye like, the furnitue is large, but we can arrange your ease"

Feet come clattering down the stairs, and a voice pipes, “the door, the door, the doooooor....” And he stops at the bottom of the staircase, and jaw drops. “Miss lady! You came to visit me!”

A blink. "Connor? Aye, hello..."

Siv is surprised "Oh.Guess i'm not the only one. You two know each other?"

"I did not bring a book for thee. But I have cookies."

"Connor was a mutual guest at Firnost for a time." She fishes in her basket, producing a ziplock of oatmeal raisin cookies.

He hurried over, but then stops before throwing arms around her like he might a troll. He reaches out a hand to shake. “Hullo and I missed you, it’s been days and days and I liked the book, I did, and I’ll finish reading it any day now.”

"okay, I know what kind of Koolaid Conner likes, but yourself, Miss Zara? We got Coffee, Soda, Tea, water... any of those do?"

"Tea, please." She takes the pooka's hand with all due formality, grave and respectful. "A pleasure to see you, young master Connor."

"You two catch up, I'llget the drinks. Oh, either of you want some food? SO many left overs, and some of it suitably spoiled"

He beams up at her and shakes her hand... but then throws his arms around her anyways, he cannot resist. “There’s pie and turkle and cake and turkle and Symon-cake and more turkle...”

"I can imagine!" She allows the hug, with as much dignity as can be mustered.

He whispers up at her, “But there’s no Symon in the Symon cake. I know. Dirk asked.”

A roll of Siv's eyes at the mention of Dirk

"And that is a relief, too. Symon is your friend?"

And Siv darts back to the kitchen. She doesn't often get to play hostess.

His tail wags once, unsure. “He is a friend of the lodge.” Seeming to be reciting something. A pause, and he remarks, “He’s got a meeaaaaaan cat, though. She’s got knives in her feet and says if I snuff her again they will come out.”

"One must respect cats. The Egyptians treated them as gods, and cats have never forgotten this." She opens the baggie and offers out a cookie. It is a fresh one! Mostly!

Eyes wide, and he sits up taller, ears perked.

Speaking of cats, one helps her self up to the table near the sluagh. Mackerel is not familiar with this one

“How did you know I was here? I missed you lots. I went back to the place but it smells like dust. Not your dust though. Quiet dust and alone. Hi, little fishie.”

Sluagh have a collection of odd smells - each their own variety of faint rot. Zara's is that of damp earth and a sodden blanket of leaves.

A delicaate sniff, not a crude one like a DOG.

"Sluagh hear many whispers. I miss many of my old friends." She pauses. "Would you like a cookie?"

“I never eat no cookies, Miss, but I’ll make a ception if it’s for you.” Wag wag wag.

Siv comes out with a cup of tea, sugar in a separate bowl to apply as she likes and a glass of Koolaid for Conner "Oh, Mackerel, don't be rude."

She sets them on the table for their guest and Connor

He leans in to sniff at the tea cup curiously, then spoons sugar into his own glass.

"Thank you, Miss Siv."

“She likes the chunky milk.” He nods to Siv. “I’m a good rememberer.”

"And hello, Mackerel." She hands the cookie to the pook. "You are, yes."