#rivervale_lodge

The dogs get their orders and stay and guard. Not that Brekke would say it, but they are easier to train than daughters.

And Chieftain, Thane, and Pirate Daughter venture out.

Brekke follows Dagmar's lead.

Dagmar has Flyswatter at her back, and leads unerringly towards where they found Theo.

"What drew you in this direction, Dagmar?"

"Gonzalez. I think she used magic. Werewolf magic."

"They get magic too? Oh now I'm feeling insecure"

"Hm. You could sense this?"

"We sorta... get careful about how much we ask?" She shrugs.

"Well, she had something in her pocket."

"Maybe a treasure."

"Interesting. And yes...you must respect each other's secrets."

"So, yeah. She led us here, then fell in.. uh.. there."

"She was looking for the dog, not the pit.. explains it"

Brekke looks where Dagmar points, and then looks at the surrounding terrain, trees, paths.

NOW Dagmar kenns the pit.

The pit appears not to have a bit of glamour in it

Brekke watches Dagmar as the girl concentrates. "Anything?"

The pit still has slilghtly rusted and bloody barbs down in it.

Brekke waits for Dagmar to report what she perceives from her kenning, but also loosens the cap on the travel mug.

She shakes her head. "No glamour that I can tell."

She nods, then steps to the pit's edge. She crouches down and slowly pours out the coffee along the edge of the pit, speaking low: "Tell me, o land, who did this to you? Who made this scar within your flesh, and who turned you violent without your will? Tell me...tell me...."

Dagmar watches closely, still fascinated by cantrips.

As the Chieftain casts. it whispers in response "Oh son of Ask and Embla, how cruel is he to tear me so...blood and night squares upon his vest...eyes sunken over protruding nose .... no name did he give when he carved into me with spade... but his face gazed into the tear, and I saw it...forty three winters had crossed it...and his beard as uneven as his heart"

Brekke frowns deeply, listening. When the answers cease, she pats her hand sympathetically on the edge of the pit. "I am sorry. Let me help." And she carefully lowers down to start clearing the spikes out of the pit.

As she works, she mutters, "Son of Ask of Embla. I do not know this name...but it sounds Garou to me." A look to Dagmar.

"I dunno. Lupe was REAL pissed..."

"I don't think the wolves would approve."

"I would not think so either."

"Red and black squares - so, like, hunter's plaid?"

Brekke nods. "Perhaps. Or like a checkerboard."

"Sounds like..." Siv says

"A poacher?"

"Forty-three winters...bearded...ragged." A sigh. "I should have asked if kith or kin, or neither."

"Wait, mum... are yyou sure that was 'Of' embla?"

"Maybe the birds or the tree-lady saw a guy around? Or Klump?"

"Bet Klump could tell if there were other holes..."

She tugs out another spike, passing each one to Dagmar or Siv, whoever is closer. "Hmm...I heard Ask, and I heard Embla. Perhaps it was not 'of'...." She shakes her head at the next spike, this one with traces of blood.

"Klump, yes. We must ask him. Or...you must ask him, Dagmar. I know you are protective of his anchor."

"I promised." She nods. "Want me to get him now?"

"I..." Brekke starts to answer, then stops, then makes an annoyed sound. "Ask. Embla. Of course." She shakes her head at herself, then looks to the girls. "Mortal. He is a mortal. That is all it meant." A troubled frown, and she tugs out the last few spikes.

"Sorry mom, I was shuffling around while it was whispering, may have been me that drowned it out" Siv winces then nods "Well, makes sense the land around here might use that instead of the usual 'son of Adam'' Thoughtful, then proud look at something.

"Who's Askembla?"

"The first man and woman, in Norse tales. I...did not hear it clearly."

That last comment may not ring entirely true to Dagmar...but not shockingly off.

"Oh, okay..." She doesn't push.

"Step away from the pit...." Brekke makes an expansive gesture to urge the girls back.

Siv steps back.

"Why?" She does step back, mind.

"The work is not done. Break those spikes, snap them. Be careful." And as the girls do so, Brekke digs her hands into the soil at the edge of the pit, picking it up in handfuls and sprinkling it into the pit again and again, handful after handful.