| Wren perches atop a small chair with a warm cup of fermented monster blood. Maimeó Maeve had retrieved a silken head wrap along with the drinks, and taken a seat by the fire while Nerta regaled her with everything that had happened. Such a tale.
“My my.” The elderly spider sips at her drink. “An actual quest to save the world. What a fool’s errand, and I know the fool.” The chill wind rustles a few hanging clothes leaving Maeve to raise her chin imperiously. “Yes, I know you can hear me, Aldo. You’d best start taking better care of my Gariníon. None of this, ‘almost cut up by Factorium lunatics’ and ‘running around half naked in the snow’. Honestly just because you did it doesn’t mean everyone has to.”
Wren blink blinks. Half naked old Aldo? Before she can ask the old woman cackles. “Oh I know, he puts on such a show of pompous charm. But he’s still a lowlander, when he came up here on his fool’s quest he got lost. Hypothermia set in, he thought he was cooking in his shirt, and put on a bit of a show. He was in fine form in those days…”
Nerta stares at her Maimeó for a few heartbeats, chin in one hand, cup in another, while a third gropes for a pillow to throw at her teasing elder. “Uh huh. let me guess, he’s my estranged grandfather because you two hit it off after you saved him.”
Wren jerks back around. Old Aldo and Nerta, related? But the old woman just laughs, with that odd clicking sound. “Oh no, no no. You’ve spent too much time listening to bards, Gariníon. A puffed up patrician like him, with me? Oh please. First of all it takes a brave man to spend time with a spider-totem, especially one with my permanent Graft. Second, he was an unwavering gentleman,” she pauses and preens, “Even when I offered.”
The round eyes of Wren dart between the two. They are, serious. In a way. Yet not? This is a game. A game to see who will blink first…
“Oh yes I can see it now, you in your best silks, him turning you down and then,” the pillow finally gets tossed, “my dear Maimeó going off to sulk.”
Maeve scowls and catches the fluffy cushion. She seems to alternate between frail old woman and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed. “Oh, your Móraí told you that one did he.”
“No, I just know you sulk when you lose.” Nerta grins. “We’ve played enough games of Tigers & Goats for me to know that.”
The old woman gives off a radiant warmth then, somehow conveying the smile even though only her glittering dark eyes are visible. “Oh Gariníon, I’ve missed you.” The smile falters. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess. Fighting. Saving the world. If I’d known you’d end up like this when that patrician stumbled into my web I’d have killed him.” The chill breeze blusters again leaving Maeve to scowl. “He’s not used to being ignored is he? I imagine he’s talking your ear off. Sorry dear.” She raises her voice. “I’ll leave you alone then, Old Ghost, just know you got lucky you walked out of here.”
“The Old Man is annoying but,” Nerta inhales slowly, “it’s not his fault, and,” she turns to consider an empty patch of air, “he’s lost everything.”
“Hmmm maybe, but he’s also stolen my Gariníon from me so why should I care about his Crystal-Cursed damnation?”
This musing earned one of Nerta’s glowers and an apology. “Oh fine. I’m sorry Aldo, I just miss my Nerta and while I know you’re a good man, sometimes you get wrapped up in your work. You might be dead already but don’t drag her to the Dark Mistress too. Please.”
There’s a brief window of silence as the breeze responds, but the speculating Maeve fills it soon after. “You find satisfaction in helping the people, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Nerta’s smile is wry, her many hands spreading wide. “Sometimes it’s even worth the trouble.”
“Ah your stubborn father always wanted you to fight, but for selfish reasons. ‘No daughter of mine is going to be a weaver.’ As if tending the hearth were beneath you or something. What your mother saw in him…” Trailing off the old woman pushes the line of thought aside. “Nevermind that. Point is, you were never going to fight for yourself, but for someone else? Then, maybe.”
A sip of the ichor sees attention pivot to Wren. It’s a bit unnerving how the eyes stare. “I’m sorry my dear, here we are talking circles around you. Why don’t we talk about you now. I’d love to learn more about all the companions on this quest.” | 
