Gentle winds blew over the tall grass on the plateau, the treetops around softly rocked with the gusts of wind. Three men in robes and a donkey laden with their luggage wandered through the vast field in the middle of the woods. A few oaks stood tall and strong in the middle of the grass. The destination of the three men was a small cabin at the other end of the clearing. A man was working in front of the cabin, some deerskin was mounted against the wall to dry in the sunlight, whilst a large pot was sitting on a fire. “That would be close enough.” Crys didn’t even turn his head to greet the strangers.

“We are emisaries, and” Crys turned to them, his face a display of disinterest. “What do you want gentlemen?” he did not want to be rude, but ever since the events prior to the fungal attack on the village he was not too fond of other people. “We travel the lands, spreading news and seeking it. We come from the clergy.” their obvious spokesman smiled friendly. “Did you hear the latest about the campain against the forbidden island?”

Crys put the meatcleaver aside he was holding in his hand, with a piece of cloth he cleaned his hands. With a wide gesture he showed the visitors a tall oak near the house. Only now did the three men see the young woman that stood there. She wore a light cloth, her long green hair was flowing with the wind, while she was enjoying every last sunray that she could get, with her arms stretched to the side.

After Crys and Gela had moved to their new house the two brooded over maps they had found in Joliens house.

Gelas homeland was the forbidden island.