It was some time later that she awoke once more. The window had been covered by a piece of leather. The melted snow had been mopped up. She was under the blanket and tucked in. It took her a moment to realize what had happened. Isette had merely set her atop the bed and she hadn't covered herself either. 

Someone had made sure she stayed warm. She checked the night clothes she had been given, they hadn't been changed leaving her chest exposed and pants pulled down. Her face grew bright red with embarrassment. Who was it that had taken care of her? She shook her head, righted the clothing and got out of bed. That was a thought that could wait. The sound of her stomach was a much more immediate and comfortable concern to have. She donned the green woolen house robe that had been set out at the foot of the bed and left the room.

The elder's home was quite large and well kept. She searched her memories and recalled a pair of twins, one boy and one girl. They would be adults now, in their early twenties. As she walked down the hall, past their rooms and towards the kitchen she wondered if they'd know her as she was now. She certainly wasn't the grizzled cleric they knew when they were younger. There was a twinge of sadness there. She remembered that they called her "Papa Aleksi" back then, while being called "Papa" bothered her, the tone they had said it with made her happy. As she neared the kitchen she could hear the sound of something being chopped. A memory returned as she picked up the scent of what was cooking.

As Aleksi she had a meeting with the village elder concerning the local troubles. Bandits, disputes between villagers and something that warranted a cleric of Isette; something was stealing away villagers in the night. She remembered speaking with Elder Gerd, the children asking question after question of her and of course, she remembered the stew. It was made with pork and the many tubers that grew nearby. Having traveled for days on iron rations it was something that really stuck in her mind and the scent of it was here now. She turned the corner into the kitchen and saw a young man with dirty blond hair chopping vegetables.

She tapped her knuckles on the wall. "Berthold?"

The young man stopped chopping, set the knife down and turned around. He had the same dirty blond hair and soft brown eyes he had as a child. His face was matured, but still held some optimistic mirth.

"Oh, uh, you must be Elder's guest." He bowed slightly.

"Yes, I'm Al-" She bit her lip. "I'm Clair."

He was only a little shorter than she had been before the change, leaving him quite tall in comparison to her now.

A look of slight confusion crossed his face. "The Elder says that you are an old friend, but you appear so young. If you'll forgive my rudeness, how old are you, Miss Clair?"

"Forty-three," she stated bluntly.

The young man looked at her as though she'd grown a second head. "Clearly, you can't be that old. You barely look older than my sister." He waved a hand dismissively.

She placed a hand on her hip. "I am and how is Beatrix?"

The man blinked. Gears seemed to turn in his head. "I get it, you're one of those seer types. We don't see much of the arcane arts here, well aside from Rene." 

She nodded and adjusted the robe so she could show him the pendant. 

The young man's eyes caught the shine from it before she could speak. "I, I recognize that."

"You what?" She asked. 

He moved towards her. "That pendant! Where did you get one? I once met a man who wore one just like it. Are you his daughter? Are you Aleksi's child?"

This was very rapidly getting entirely out of her control. The situation combined with the embarrassment and the hunger left her with little wit. "No, no... I am A..leksi... was, Aleksi. Am? Are?" She threw her hands up and shrugged.

He cocked his head to one side. "You what?"

She didn't know how to deal with this. Clair looked down at the wooden floor. "I, he died. Then Isette brought me back like this." She smiled at him awkwardly.

Berthold placed a hand against the back of his head and leaned forward. "You. Y-You're joking. Right?” He paced for a moment. “Yeah, you're just his daughter here and, and he told you to mess with me.” He pointed at her. “No. You couldn't be him, could you?"

Clair reached a hand out and grabbed Berthold’s wrist. "When I found you in the ghoul nest you were hidden under the remains of your uncle. You cried and cried, but 'Papa Aleksi' came and killed the monster then took you and your sister home to the Elder.” Berthold’s skin went cold in her grip, she let go. “You remember what I told you then right?"

Berthold's face scrunched up. "You said you were sorry you couldn't save everyone, but you were glad you saved us."

Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He went to embrace her. She returned it. Somehow, even at his size the young man felt small in her arms.

"Berthold, it's okay. I'm okay." She squeezed him harder.

She could hear a cane hitting wood.

"You're so different now, you even died." He buried his face into her shoulder.

Clair squeezed him tighter. "It wasn't so bad. I, I wanted this."

"You used to be so strong and-” He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “Is this what you wanted?"

The sound of the approaching cane was close now.

"Yes, it is. Now Berthold, the stew needs tending. I'm only blind, boy, I can still smell when something is burning," said the Elder.

Berthold broke the hug and wiped the tears away. He nodded at the Elder and bowed to Clair before pulling the stew off the fire.

"I know you have renewed your vows to your goddess. Come, faithful of Isette, we have much to discuss." The Elder turned and began heading down the hall.

Clair said a quick goodbye to Berthold and followed the surprisingly fast old woman.

"You remember the crisis from your first visit, yes?" The Elder moved with surety in spite of her age.

She nodded.

Elder Gerd sighed. "It's gotten worse. No one in the village knows it yet, but the beasts have come back."

She thought back on those terrible creatures. Once ordinary humans, twisted by the depravity of their crimes. Gaunt things that knew only hunger.

"I burned out their nest when I was last here, how did this happen?" Gone was the nervous woman seeing a child she once knew and in her place was the steely cleric of Isette.

"I do not know, their origin is unclear." She pulled open a heavy wooden door.

The two walked into the Elder's room. Charms made of animal bone and local plants hung from the ceiling and the scent of the forest in spring suffused the air. Against one wall was an altar made of piled river stones with a polished disc of clear quartz in the center. The Elder walked over to the altar and beckoned Clair to follow. The old woman waved a gnarled hand over the quartz and it reflected a view of somewhere else. It was a Ghoul den, there were bone piles of local game and a few human remains as well. One of the creatures pulled a freshly killed elk into view and began eating. It was joined by several more. The five creatures fought briefly over the kill before they all stopped and turned to face the location the Elder was scrying from.

Clair bit her lip and creased her brow. "That. Is not normal, they shouldn't be able to sense magic like that"

The Elder shook her head. "No, it is not. They have even worn at the wards the local fae provided me.” Her shoulders slumped. “I no longer have anything to offer them that would not bring a different sort of harm to the village. So I prayed to Isette for a saviour two weeks ago. I offered my remaining mundane sight and she took it." Clair nodded. The old woman seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'll need arms and armor... if I am even able to bear them as I am now. I do not feel weaker, but I cannot deny I look less fit for battle now." She looked down at her hands, they appeared soft and delicate.

There was a ringing of a bell that echoed through the home.

The Elder turned to Clair. "Do not worry yourself over that now, young Berthold has finished the stew. I wonder if you will be as voracious as you once were." The Elder laughed as she began hobbling out of the room.

Clair looked back at the altar before following. She caught sight of a hastily hidden blade, slick with blood. Contracts and dealings with the Fae were not for the faint of heart or weak of will. She remembered a payment she once made to the guardians of the surrounding forest, of the Nebelwald. Blood, flesh and liquor were their favored gifts. When she was here as Aleksi she had the first two, but not the third. A removed gauntlet. A single cut. A swarm of sprites drinking and ripping at the wound. True to their word they had let her pass safely back then. Would they ask for new payment this time?

She shook her head, causing her long white hair to obscure her vision. The worry about the Fae fell away as she saw her thin fingers part her hair from her face. The scent of the stew permeated the halls of the Elder's home and brought with it a sense of peace and of a place she had wanted to call home. She kept pace with the Elder and soon reached a modest dining room adjacent to the kitchen.

The room was lit by small magically charged stones that had become ubiquitous even this far from the cities. On the walls between the lightstones were faded tapestries, the heraldry of the old families of the village. She noted one of them was of House Whiteford, lords of the nearest city; Leere. In the center of the room was a blackened iron pot resting atop a heavy oaken table. There were six chairs made of pine and wicker surrounding it. Berthold set down a ladle and moved to pull a chair out for Elder. Clair took a seat opposite to her.

"Alek-Clair, next time allow me to-" The Elder tapped the young man's side with a boney finger.

"No, it's fine, really. I'm used to just taking a seat. You don't have to." She waved a hand at him.

The Elder said something to him directly, just quiet enough that Clair couldn’t hear. Berthold blushed after giving the Elder a slight glare.

Berthold grabbed the ladle and a bowl. "At least let me serve you dinner. Bea and the others should be here any moment."

"Others?" Clair raised an eyebrow

The Elder smiled like a parent given a chance to brag about her children. "Beatrix has become quite the social butterfly since you last saw her, unlike Berthold."

Berthold had grabbed the ladle and gestured accusingly. "Due in no small part to taking care of the home!"

"The house spirits are very much capable of keeping the home together. It is you who insists on cooking and watching me commune with the Fae." She pointed a finger at Berthold.

Clair looked at the man, he seemed flustered. Was he wanting to take up Elder Gerd’s mantle when she passed? She moved to pull up the sleeve on her left arm to show her old scar from the time she fed the pixies. Her eyes found only pale, smooth skin. That's right, different body.

She slid the sleeve back down. "The Fae are dangerous, Berthold. They don't like prying eyes either."

Before he could answer her there was an opening and closing of a door, followed by the sound of footsteps. Beatrix stepped into the room accompanied by Erich and a tall woman of apparently similar age as Beatrix with deep red hair that Clair did not know.

Berthold held his arms up in greeting. "Bea, Rene, Erich! I'm glad you made it on time!” His eyes narrowed as he looked at Bea. “For once."

She flicked a stray bit of foliage off her shoulder. "Yes, yes, brother. I made it back just fine. The woods aren't as dangerous as the Elder would have you believe." She took her coat off and set it on the back of a chair before taking a seat in it.

"Rene?" Clair looked at the woman she presumed was Rene.

The woman with auburn hair tied back in a ponytail sat down next to Bea, who had grown into a very capable looking woman. Clair noticed the calluses from using a bow on her right hand as well as thin, almost imperceptible scars. Bea had moved her chair close enough to Rene to sling her left arm over her shoulder. Rene, for her part, leaned towards the shorter woman. The two seemed happy. Erich had walked over to Berthold and began assisting by taking bowls of the stew to each of the guests.

Erich placed a bowl in front of Clair and leaned down. "What the hells happened in your room this morning?"

She felt herself flush red. "Uh, nothing just had a tough time sleeping and-"

He looked a little confused at what she was saying. "No, the window, when I saw you, you were already tucked into bed." 

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I was... visited by... a messenger from Isette." She fumbled and brought up her pendant to show him.

"Try not to have them break anything next time." Erich returned to the pot.

He gave the pair their bowls before grabbing his own, while Berthold delivered one to the Elder and sat down with his.

"We can talk later, eat before it gets cold," said the Elder.

Clair looked at the stew in her bowl. It was as she remembered it; pork, tubers and a couple other vegetables stewed for hours. The tubers held the heat wonderfully. The pork and mountain spices gave it a warm feel in addition to the heat of the stew itself. She ate with vigor she hadn't had for the past few years until she was full. She may have only had room for one bowl in this new body, but the warmth in her belly made her feel content. She looked up to see that like her, Bea was finished with her bowl, but that she was stealing bits of Rene's remaining stew. The Elder ate slowly and Berthold had refilled his and Erich's bowls.

Bea stopped stealing chunks of pork and looked over to Clair, pointing at her with a spoon. "There's something familiar about you. Who are you?"

Clair felt her stomach drop. Why was she feeling panic? This didn't happen with Berthold, it was just kind of awkward, well really awkward.

The Elder set her spoon down. "She is Clair, faithful of Isette. You should remember her, she saved you."

Berthold went to his sister and whispered in her ear, her face lit up and she pushed away from the table, nearly knocking her brother down. Clair felt very much like prey and stood up moving towards the door only for Bea to collide with her.

The woman hugged her tightly. "Aleksi!? I never thought I'd see you again! You've changed so much! Has everything been okay? Have you uh, eheh?"

Clair could only manage a dazed sound as Bea continued to speak.

"So you're like Rene then, right? She used to-" Bea froze in place.

Rene stood up. "You don't want to finish that sentence, babe. Clair, you can get out of her grip now, she won't be moving for a little.”

Rene was standing and had her hands out towards Bea, faint symbols made of light floated near her fingertips. She was a spell weaver, it seemed. Clair nodded and slipped out of the paralyzed Bea's grip.

Rene smirked. "I love her, but she's a fool and doesn't understand tact."

Clair moved over to Rene who dropped her hands and let Bea go.

Bea cracked her neck. "Really wish you'd stop doing that Ren."

Rene placed her hands on her hips."Stop acting like an imbecile and maybe I will. Now, apologize to the poor girl."

Bea grit her teeth. "I'm sorry Ale-" Rene glared at her. "I'm sorry Clair."

"Good girl." Bea seemed to light up when she heard this then leaned over to Rene and whispered something. "I owe you for saving her life, it seems. I'll see you tomorrow, Clair. Bea, let's go. Elder, Berthold, thank you for the meal." Rene turned and walked out. Bea eagerly grabbed her coat and followed after Rene.

"What just happened?" Asked Clair. 

The Elder was already into another bowl of stew and Berthold was covering his face with his hands.

Erich looked up and spoke. "My sister and his sister are a couple, been that way for a couple years now, they're probably going back to Rene's place to uh..."

Clair blinked. That's a thing you can do? She decided to change the topic. "So Rene can do magic?"

Erich ate another spoonful of stew. "Yeah, when she was a kid she and her sister were magically gifted. I wasn’t, I’m only a half brother, different dads. Maybe I could have done some magic, but it didn't come easy to me." Erich looked over to Clair. "If I’ve understood what’s going on correctly, you're like my sister. That'd explain a lot about how you acted when we first met." He sighed and stood up. "I'd better head out. Thanks, Bert and good luck Clair."

Erich walked behind Clair. "I'm sorry for how she acted, Clair. She does talk about your old self pretty often. I didn't think she'd take the news as well as she did. I'm going to clean up then make an offering."

Berthold grabbed the empty bowls and took them out of the room before returning for the pot.

"You may want to witness the offering," said the Elder.

Clair nodded, thanked her for the hospitality and followed Berthold. She knew that the family dealt with the Fae, but she didn't want to meet with any of those alone until she had to. Bert carried the large iron pot outside into the snow and walked to the edge of the woods. He set the pot down and said a small chant under his breath then looked out into the twilit forest. Her hair stood on end. She could feel eyes looking towards the two of them from the trees. The woods seemed to groan as time passed. She caught sight of the insect-like bodies of the pixies darting from branch to branch. Their chittering laughter filled the air. The pixies stopped as they heard something and then dispersed into the trees. From the darkened woods stepped a huge white wolf. Clair swore its eyes glowed a soft blue. It padded towards the two of them and sniffed the air. It stood up past her hips. The wolf padded over to Clair and nuzzled against her leg before turning its attention to the pot. It grabbed the pot in its mouth and headed off into the woods.

He smiled at her. "It seemed to like you, but let's get inside, Clair. Don't want to be out when the pixies return."

As the two returned to the house, Clair looked to Berthold and then down his arms. There were small circular scars on his forearms. They'd healed well, but they were still there and distinct from the scars one would get from regular life.

Berthold caught her gaze and stopped. "They're Pixie Kisses, or at least that's the name for them here."

She nodded. It was a fairly common name for it, there were others like her favorite one; sprite bites. "Were any of their favors worth it?"

Berthold's face scrunched up."I didn't get these that way."

The two continued until they were just inside the warmth of the Elder's home.

Berthold leaned against a wall. "I got careless a year ago, Nana, uh Elder Gerd... she was teaching me some of the old ways. I was to make a small exchange with the Fae."

Clair looked up at him. There were a couple ways a deal with pixies could go wrong; one could bring cold iron into their forest, besmirch their court or allow them to trick you.

She raised an eyebrow to him."So, are you going to tell me what went wrong?"

Berthold's face went a little red. He sighed heavily. "I made a bad deal after realizing I'd worn my iron cleated shoes. I didn't want to risk scrutiny so I let them suggest a price, they wanted a pint."

She knew where this was going. "A pint of what?"

He frowned. "I'd assumed they meant mead, they like the sweet stuff. So I go to turn around and get a pint as I agree and-"

Clair frowned and interrupted him. "They meant blood, Berthold."

"I know that now, look, I'm more experienced for it. It's okay." He sighed.

"Yes, but..." She bit her lip and looked at his arms. She hadn't tried any magic since the change, but seeing little Berthold, no, big Berthold hurting was eating at her. "Berthold, let me see your scars. It'll be like back then." She reached towards him.

Berthold smiled faintly and let her see his arms. When getting a closer look she could see a good number of other scars and some burns, presumably from cooking. She removed the pendant from her neck and swept it over his flesh while reciting a small prayer and… nothing. She tried it again, still nothing.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, they're just scars and you're probably not used to your new body yet. I've got to tend to the kitchen, we can try again later if you want, Clair."

He walked down the hall towards the kitchen. Why hadn't the spell worked? She'd said the words and felt the magic well up, but as she swept the pendant over his arm the spellwork split apart and the magic slipped away. Had she changed so much that her old prayers and spells didn't work anymore? It was at this moment she deeply regretted not taking the time to discuss magic with Saaric the Weaver.

She stepped back outside and grabbed a twig from a nearby shrub. Maybe healing flesh was too much to start with after having come back from the dead.

She snapped the twig in two and held both pieces in a hand. "The simple act of mending a broken twig should be easy enough."

Again she said the words, pulled at the mystic energies of the world and then she would sweep the pendant over the twig.

As she brought the pendant over it she saw it was already repaired. "What?"

She broke it and tried again, this time watching the hand holding the twig. The twig was repaired as she finished pulling in the required magical energy. She blinked. It had always required her to use the pendant as a focus before. If she was able to still use magic why didn't her attempts at healing Berthold's scars work?

She shook her head. "No, can't be."

She broke the twig once more and set the pieces on the ground before casting the spell again. Nothing happened, the twig remained broken. She repeated this several times and found that the mending spell only worked if she physically touched the twig. She placed the pendant around her neck, turned around and headed back inside. It was a relief to see that she was still able to work magic, though she resolved to speak to the Elder and Rene in the morning. Now, however, she had something she needed to do. When she got to the kitchen she saw Berthold cleaning the ash from the fire.

"Nearly done?" She asked

"Yeah, be a moment." He placed the collected ash into a clay pot and walked over.

"I figured it out, let me try again, please."

He nodded and showed her his arms. She pulled the spell together and reached out gingerly towards his left arm. As her finger tips neared his skin small arcs of blue energy crackled between them. She touched her hand to his flesh and watched as the scars began to soften and eventually disappear entirely. He smiled back at her.

She smiled then looked up at Berthold. "I may look different now, but I can still patch you back up, kid. Try not to hurt yourself again."

He smiled back at her. "I promise I won't, Miss Clair."

Hearing her name like this felt good. She felt like she was still a protector to him, even after all these years and that felt right. "I'm glad you and your sister turned out so well, always knew you were good kids."

He hugged her. It was a small surprise and she let out a small gasp. He was so tall that his head could rest on hers as they embraced. They stayed that way for a while, like mother and son.

After breaking the hug Clair asked him a question. "I'm going to see Rene tomorrow, can you show me where she lives when I get up?"

"Sure thing, are you turning in now?" He asked.

"Yes, I'll see you tomorrow, Berthold." She smiled and turned away.

He waved at her. "Sleep well, good night."

Once she got to the room she'd been given she set to do right by the Elder. The debris from Isette's entrance was piled on the table near the window. She removed the leather that covered the broken window and placed as much as she could near the window itself and began to weave her spellwork. The pieces of splintered wood snapped and pulled back together and the glass flowed back into place as if it were water. When she was done the glass seemed a little thinner, but overall the window was fully repaired. She moved over to the bed and laid down, sleep came quickly.