Wilona sighed deeply. "This was entirely my fault," she said with a tone that's barely a whisper. "I should have asked for directions to the nearest villages, or maybe something like a map? They have that, right?"

  "If they're merchants then yes," Fuzz said from beside her. "It is important for people of that profession to have multiple copies of a single map, in fact. Sometimes they even bring different interpretations of a local area."

  "And I can't believe I didn't even get a single one of those things. I never thought of asking for a map, honestly. I kinda just got excited to see humans finally." Wilona did not know if that was good or not. In the end, her reaction probably bordered on bizarre, maybe even childish, from an outside perspective.

  "From what I've gathered while listening to you recount your interactions with them, they didn't feel the same way. Especially during the latter part of your negotiations," Fuzz somehow managed to cause her featureless body to sigh. "You strong-armed them, did you know this?"

  "Sorry..." Wilona murmured. She felt guilty now, damn it! Why does Fuzz keep bringing it up? "That's the only way I know how to talk to people, so, you know..."

  "I know—it's concerning. We need to work on that if you wish to not cause enemies wherever you go in the future. Unlike on Earth, the people here, especially those with status and personal power, can and will mobilize force should they think someone's words slighted them." Fuzz finished her long warning by shaking her head in disappointment, then adding, "You will have to be more amicable unless you want to fight an army all by yourself."

  "Fix my personality, got it." Wilona nodded absentmindedly. Powerful people here had armies. Actual armies; be it trained humans under a noble's command, several golems that a wizard enchanted, or a bunch of undead that some dark lord revived.

  The world isn't safe. Fuzz's stories about what goes on out there made Wilona want to be a shut-in and just stay in this swamp forever, but she damn well knew that her quests wouldn't let her do that. She needed to move, and if she's not powerful enough to win through force, then she needed to be friendly.

  "There is a good chance that the merchants may have already informed the local guards about what you did. Any village you visit will now be much more wary of you. It's not surprising if this develops into something worse." Fuzz handed Wilona the bag full of stuff she got from the merchants. "In lighter news, you have gotten yourself food, spices, and other useful items. You should feel happy about the results. At least you didn't get killed."

  "Or worse, kidnapped." Wilona decided to join in on the optimism. And it's not like Fuzz is wrong either. Her reputation can just be fixed, right? As long as she stops acting like a bitch in the future. "Okay, so we have food here, I also got myself a sewing kit and a ladle. Oh, and also spoons and forks. I'm tired of eating with sticks, so this is probably the best thing that I've gotten from them."

  Wilona sorted everything she got into their respective pottery and afterwards left her house.

  She didn't want to think about what the merchants were doing as of right now, so she needed a distraction. She could have gone to the forest to clear her head, but that didn't feel appropriate. So instead she moved over to her dock and sat by the edge.

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  Her feet touched the water gently and splashed it around, sending ripples across the surface. It all broke apart when a head emerged from the murky depths. Garry greeted Wilona by bumping his snout against her foot. She returned his affection by rubbing his scaly head and smiling. "Garry. How are you?"

  The fish didn't answer, but his presence was appreciated.

  ...

  "Mom wouldn't have let that witch push us around like that."

  Silas sighed. His children—and he loved them very dearly despite what he was about to internally say—are too naive. They also had a strange memory of their mother. Over-the-top is the better description for it, honestly.

  Charlotte was a great woman, but she wasn't the person his children often talked about. In their minds, their mother was more idealized, better than in reality, and capable of solving any problems that came their way.

  Even if it’s a powerful witch who can fly across the sky and levitate items with the ease of a warhorse carrying a fully armored knight.

  He knew that it was partially his fault for letting their stories run wild, but he didn't have the heart to tell them that their mother wasn't all that great because these very same stories made Charlotte's absence more positive. He told himself that his son and daughter at least weren't depressed and lethargic in comfort before eyeing his brother-in-law.

  Clifford had helped him out ever since Charlotte passed away. Even now, he had left his own wife and children to help Silas with the journey to a neighboring village.

  Clifford sighed and gave the kids an answer. "Charlotte isn't here anymore, Orion. She could have done it—" and even Clifford encouraged the two children's delusion, "but she's not here. And so we're forced to get the best out of a bad situation."

  "I know that," Orion muttered bitterly. He grabbed a rock and tossed it into the dark. "It's still stupid. Just because she had magic?" He scowled. "Mages, they're always so arrogant. One day I'm gonna get strong enough to beat them with a sword. And what's with her trinkets anyway?"

  Upon being mentioned, Iris lifted one of the items. "They're legitimate, at least," she said with a comfortable sigh. "They glow in the dark. None of them died so far, so maybe she didn't even lie when she said that they'll never stop glowing?"

  "She most likely wasn't," Clifford agreed. "Treant bark is valuable because it can absorb a lot of mana on its own. A lot of people use it to make magical staffs—" Clifford nodded at Orion before the boy could speak. "—yes, including the one the witch wielded."

  Orion clicked his tongue. "She beat an ent."

  "She did," Clifford nodded. "She's powerful enough to kill something that's resistant to magic while being a mage. That speaks a lot about how dangerous she is."

  "She looked young though," Iris pointed out. "How's she that powerful? I think she was only a few years older than me."

  "Who knows." Clifford shrugged. "Maybe she's not even young? Witches can hide their true age if they wanted, and she seems like the type to do that."

  "Heh, so she's a hag then." Orion chuckled. "I had a feeling something was up. She was too good to be true, and now I know she's just an old woman pretending to be young."

  "Age catches up to all of us, Orion," Silas chided. "She's just lucky enough that she has power over that particular aspect of life. Most of us can't say the same thing."

  "I don't care." Orion spat. "She's old."

  "Should we tell the other villages that someone managed to kill an ent around here?" Iris' question forced the conversation to go back to the danger the witch posed. "They'd probably want to ask us about it. Maybe we can sell them the information?"

  "And also get them to buy these trinkets from us so that they have something to connect to the witch's existence?" Clifford grinned as he asked the lass. "Smart, but we can do better. The witch didn't seem like she'd hurt anyone. Maybe we can tell everyone else that someone who killed an ent gave us these trinkets and that we're selling them since there's so many?"

  "You want us to put the other villagers in jeopardy?" Iris said in distaste. "I feel like that's morally questionable, Uncle Clifford."

  "Think about it, the witch didn't kill us, did she? She just wanted supplies. Hell, she could have taken those things from us by force, but she traded them for material goods instead." Clifford argued. Everyone except Orion changed their expressions into something thoughtful. "Here's what I think. She needed supplies after a long journey that involved fighting an ent. Then she saw us."

  "Right. That does make sense..." Iris nodded. She looked at the trinket in her hand under a new light. "I didn't think about it like that."

  "That's what I'm here for!" Clifford grinned, glad that everyone else bought his lie. He wasn't really sure if the witch was evil, but who cares if she was? His nieces needed the money that they'd get from selling the trinkets. Hell, he would gladly sell the items at a higher price while smiling even if he knew that the witch used them to track her victims.

  When faced with picking between his morals and his family, Clifford would choose the latter every single time.