As you near the door of the cottage, a voice comes out of the darkness. "You've come out of your way."
A tall, rangy man stands at the corner of the cottage, one of his hands holding a staff and the other resting lightly but firmly upon the neck of a large dog. The dog looks at you and raises its hackles defensively.
"Crocker here can smell a lie," says the man, shaking the loose skin of the dog's neck as he does so and forcing a low rumble from its throat. "So why don't you just tell me what you're doing outside my cottage?"