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There was much to know before action could be taken. The voices that commanded Galen were always so ambiguous in the task required of him, always a place, always a face, and some hint of what was to come, but that was all. The challenge of discovering just what they desired him to do was his alone to uncover. Some rebellious part of him wondered if even they knew what he was supposed to do, or if he was just supposed to be in the right place at the right time. It was never his place to ask, and never would they say more than was needed. As for Merrin, her situation was far less complicated than others: in the case of spirit possession, there were ever only three options available. Firstly, there was exorcism, the removal of the spirit; not always a possibility depending on the nature and strength of the spirit, nor was it always necessary. Secondly, there was compliance, a means of controlling the spirit within the host body without removing it, a state of symbiosis with insurance against it going wild. However, this only worked when both spirit and host were willing, which was hardly ever the case, and with whatever benefits came with it there were also horrible side affects that plagued the host body for the rest of their lives. Lastly... there was elimination, a spirit could not be suffered to run free in a host body, causing all sorts of havoc ranging from the mischievous to large-scale destruction. If the spirit cannot be removed, or made to comply, it must be destroyed; more often than not, this meant the destruction of the host as well.

Memories of the images the voices had imparted flitting through Galen's mind as he strode into Tarrensford, particularly the scenes of blood. Was Merrin fated for death, after all? It would not have been the first time he had to consign a person to death, even a child. Yet, that didn't mean it was any less burdensome on his own soul. Returning those memories to their archives, he found his way to the general store, making as if to buy supplies when what he truly sought to obtain was information. Throwing back his hood as he drifted through the entrance, the traveler gave a wave to the man behind the counter before browsing the wares. He made a show of being a discriminating customer, carefully looking over the goods before making his selections and finally bringing an armful of foodstuffs and an assortment of general, everyday requirements.

"Hey, there, guess you found your cousin, eh?" The shopkeep commented with a courteous smile.

Of course, the traveler admonished himself, he was in the bar before."Eventually, no thanks to him." Galen said with a chuckle as the man tabulated the materials. "Took me most of the day, and didn't get so much as an apology for my trouble."

"That's family for you, isn't it?"

"Time to get a new family."

The two shared a short laugh at that, by the end of which the shopkeep gestured to the goods. "Two and a half pieces."

"Two and a half?" Galen raised a brow.

"Don't look at me like that. Our delivery is late, you're pulling from a dwindling stock; heck, you grabbed the last piece of chalk in town. Until Garreth gets here, prices are on an incline."

_Garreth?_Even with the troubles they had with the wolves and the death of the ox, the merchant driver should have made it to Tarrensford by the previous evening. Unless, of course, there was more wolves on the roads, or worse. "Is he often late?"

"Never. That's why it's such a blow; we're all but out when he comes around, don't bother ordering too far in advance because we know that as sure as the sun rises, Garreth gets here on time. Frankly, we're all a bit worried about him." The concern was real, it was obvious on the shopkeeper's face, and sudden Galen felt a hint of guilt for leaving the driver in such a state.

"I see." Autonomously the traveler reached a hand into his coinpurse and laid down five coins, gathering his purchases into his bag. When he spoke again it was as if he was returning from some other place. "By the way, I had a few curiosities..."

The man behind the counter looked at him flatly, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "... About Merrin, right?"

"How did you guess?"

"When it comes to curiosities around here nowadays, it's always about that girl."

"Why?" Woes were an infectious affliction, and people tended to want to share them as often as they could. This alone saved Galen no small amount of troubles in the past.

"Did you see her?"

"Yeah, in passing, she was doing her chores."

The shopkeeper's frown deepened while he eyed Galen shrewdly. "... You didn't talk to her, did you?"

Lies were delicate things, easily crushed. The key to lying well was knowing when to lie, when to be honest, and what middle ground you could find between the two. "A few words. I was hoping she'd be able to help me find my cousin."

"I'll ask you to leave now, sur." Any warmth that was previously in that voice was now gone, the man's body straightening and becoming tense.

"I'm sorry?"

"Please, sur. You have your goods, be about your day."

"... Very well. Thank you for your help." With that Galen turned and left the store, certain he wouldn't be welcome there anymore, nor many other places as the word would surely spread fast in the small town. Misinformation and superstition: old enemies that made his tasks infinitely more difficult. The people clearly knew something about Merrin, but the question was whether or not he could find someone to share their knowledge with him. Standing upon the wooden planks of the storefront, Galen pondered his next move. He could try approaching the girl, herself, again, but either her or the spirit might grow suspicious in the two visits in so short a time. He needed them to be as trusting as possible for future encounters, not on their guard. He could try the bar again, Jorg seemed friendly enough and might be pliable to imparting some cautionary tales... but even if he did, the shopkeep would be by sooner or later, and then word would spread of the traveler's unnatural interest in Merrin. As his mind ran possibilities and scenarios, his eyes wandered, over the river that glittered in the sunlight, over the chapel, over to the guildshop, where they rested and gave inspiration.

_Guildsmen..._Unlike the regular folk of a small town, guildsmen were a practical sort, mostly, and cared little for superstition. Where others might be afraid to even speak of spirits and the like, a guildsman would less so, or at least would be easily bought with coin, so long as he wasn't breaking the tenants of his guild. Besides, it would offer him the chance to inquire more of Garreth, who hovered on the edges of Galen's thoughts.

The inside of the guildshop was only slightly less plain than the rest of the buildings in Tarrensford, a few items of decoration and comfort to show the influence of the guild, even in the small, quaint little town. A short, slight man sat behind a carved desk, dressed as well as one could for being a Venture guildsman, who perked up with a servile smile at the sight of the traveler. "Ah, good day, sur! Here to send a letter somewhere? Arrange transportation with one of our drivers? Perhaps put in a special order?"

"Something like that," said Galen simply as he took a seat across the desk from the clerk, finding the soft padding of the chair to have the opposite effect of its purpose. "I've a bold venture, I could use a bold guild."

The small man's smile brightened, becoming genuine, as he tapped his flat nose. "A friend of the guild, I see! Please, tell me, what can I do for you?"

"Two things: first, I want to know if you've received word from Garreth."

"You know him?"

"He bore me from down south, up to the ferry. I knew he would be a little late, for we met some wolves on the way and he lost an ox-"

"Oh, dear..." The clerk seemed stunned by this news, covering his agape mouth. "... He'd had those two for years, since they were young; the poor man."

"Yes. I treated him to many drinks that night. Yet, even with that, he should have been here by now, but the man at the general store tells me he has yet to arrive."

"I'm afraid that's true. I've been trying not to worry, but he's never late. I've not received a breath of word, nor scrap of paper as to his well-being. I was about to arrange for someone to go alone the road to try and find him... or find out what happened to him." The clerk pursed his lips against a finger, brows low in thought. "Wolves, you say?"

"Yes."

"They're not supposed to be down from the mountains this time of year."

"So I keep hearing, but the wolfsblood on my sleeve, several dead wolves, and a dead ox by the road down south says otherwise."

The guildsman's small, sharp eyes flitted to the traveler's cloak, picking out the darker stains against the deep gray cloak. "... Yes. Well, I've heard nothing yet... but thank you for checking in. Your concern for one of us in a service to the guild. Please, feel free to check in again tomorrow when I might have more to tell you."

"I will." Galen nodded his head in appreciation, plucking out two coins from his purse and placing the onto the desk pointedly. "Now, onto business: I need information."

The clerk straightened, a professional posture which he no doubt practiced to perfection over his handful of years. "Of course, I will share what I can, so long as I am not forbidden to speak of it."

"I don't think so, but your neighbors might disagree. I need to know about the girl, Merrin."

Silence, one far too still and weighty. "... You do not ask easy questions, sur."

"I do not expect easy answers." Galen placed two more coins onto the desk. "Now, is there a guildsman bold enough to help my venture, or not?"

"I don't know as much as you might hope," the clerk reached over and took the coins in hand, glancing at them a moment before dropping the currency into a drawer of his desk. "I'll tell you what I know. There's nothing of note before last year. She was the child of two poor folk who moved in and made an excuse for a home by the woods. Her father was a woodsman, made his living as such, quite renowned for his ability, it was said the forest held few secrets from him. He was teaching his daughter, his only child, in what he knew, and the two would often go into the woods north of their home, stay there all day, then come home at night with firewood, some game, and herbs. One day, they go up in there and don't come back, not for a week. The woodsman's wife was worried, came into town, called up a search party. Took another day and night to find them, but when they did the father was- was dead, all torn up, and the girl, well..."

When it seemed almost as if he wouldn't continue, Galen prodded the man. "Yes? What about her?"

"She was just fine. Wasn't starved, wasn't wanting for thirst or warmth, wasn't even concerned for being all alone out there. What's more, her eyes? Well, when they went into the forest, they were more brown, but when they brought her out, they were a sharp green. Now, what do you make of that?"

Possession. Thought Galen simply, the tale confirming what he already knew. "What did others make of it?"

"Some said she made a deal with the faeries, others say she became a witch, some said she was killed and some creature of the woods walks around in her skin. Since then though, nobody's said so much as a word to her. It's just the girl and her mother out there, all alone."

***

There was little more to the story, when it was over the two shared courtesies and Galen payed another two coins for the clerk's silence, finding his way back to the grove he made his home. The tale had given him a direction: north, to the woods. However, it also raised his concern as to how it would play out for the girl. The father had been ripped apart, which suggested a malicious spirit, and a powerful one at that. If it proved too difficult to extract, then there was only one course to pursue, elimination. All was hearsay at this point though, and before he took any drastic action he needed more proof. On the morrow he would seek out these woods where Merrin's life was robbed from her, and he would draw from them the nature of what they had left in her.