Roan walked through the village, his boots thudding on the earth, passing between crops and the villagers' modest homes. The early morning sun warmed his back, and the chorus of bird song reminded him of simpler times. The faint smell of tilled earth mingled with the aroma of freshly baked bread from Mrs. Holloway's oven.
His thoughts drifted to Lynna, noticing the change in her - the sparkle in her eyes and the spring in her step. She was brighter, more alive ever since she'd befriended those dignified folks from the capital, especially Lady Elara. Birds of the same feather flock together, he mused. Guess Lynna found her flock, the kind that lifts her spirits and broadens her horizon.
Lifting a hand to greet old Mr. Gibbins, who was patching up his roof, Roan called out, "Top of the mornin' to ya, Mr. Gibbins!", his voice boisterous and hearty.
Mr. Gibbins peered down, his aging eyes squinting against the sun. "Ah, Roan! 'Mornin to ya too. How's Lynna?"
Roan's heart swelled with pride. "She's been doin' better. Got herself some new friends from the big city."
"That so?", Mr. Gibbins nodded thoughtfully. "Always good to have connections, they say."
Casually, Roan inquired about any peculiar events in the village. "Say, Mr. Gibbins, noticed anythin' out of the ordinary lately? My sis mentioned somethin', but didn't give me the details."
Mr. Gibbins scratched his thinning hair. "Odd? Nah, can't say I have. Just the usual. 'Cept for old Farmer Bessy's cows. They been actin' up and always seem to look towards the western forest. Don't know why."
Mr. Gibbins chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, and you should've seen Bessy, bless her. Tried every trick in the book to calm them cows down. She even did a little dance, believe it or not! But those cows, they just wouldn't have it. Kept bellowing their heads off, louder and louder, till they could face west. Now, ain't that a sight? Bessy dancing and cows shouting like they're at a concert. An incredible tale, if you ask me!"
Roan suppressed his laugh, but his interest was piqued. "Western edge, you say?"
Nodding his thanks, Roan made his way towards Farmer Bessy's plot. Along the way, he crossed paths with young Jenna, who was busy chasing after a particularly evasive chicken. "Need a hand there, Jenna?" he offered with a grin.
She paused, her cheeks flushed from the effort. "Oh, Roan! If you could. This one's been slippery all mornin'."
As Roan skillfully scooped up the chicken, tucking it securely under his arm, he posed his question. "Jenna, you noticed anythin' strange lately? My sis is curious."
Jenna pondered for a moment then answered: "Not really. 'Cept for the water I fetched near the lake. Tasted a bit off yesterday. Like when you leave a coin in water, that metallic tang."
Roan's eyebrows shot up, a hint of realization in his gaze. "And where'd you fetch that water from, Jenna?"
She pointed towards the trees in the distance. "Over by the western edge. Near the old weepin' willow. You know the one, with that twisted trunk?"
Roan nodded, his memory jogging. "Ah, I reckon I know the spot. Thanks for sharin', Jenna. Best keep an eye on that water, might be somethin' afoot."
As the sun climbed higher, Roan had collected various clues pointing to the western forest: strange animal behavior, unusual tasting water, and sightings of cloaked figures.
That last one was particularly odd, Roan mused internally. These cloaked figures had been spotted more than once, and now the word around was that they'd been seen loitering near a farm close to the western edge of the forest. There's gotta be somethin' there. Something they're drawn to or hidin'.
As he made his way back home, his thoughts once again found their way to Lynna. She'll be pleased with what I've found out, he thought, picturing her face light up as she pieced things together with Lady Elara.
It felt good, being able to support his sister in his own way. The crops would be tended, the village would carry on, and he, Roan, would always be there to lend a hand and keep an ear to the ground. For kin. For home.