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"It's considered polite to offer your own name before asking another's," she pointed out, but gave her answer anyway. "I am Rajani."

Even as she slipped out the back door, a large shape materialized from the shadows. The long-tailed stag pinned the stranger with an appraising stare, weighing and measuring, before seeming to dismiss her and turning to Rajani. He sniffed at the bread before taking a large bite, devouring the majority of the loaf.

"Glutton," she muttered. Figuring there was no point in keeping the rest, she offered the remaining scraps to the rook perched on her shoulder. He accepted them before taking flight, blending in with the night sky.

Though the accent had suggested as much, Soibhan's reaction all but confirmed it: she was not from Sunderland. Even though Guardians were not yet particularly numerous, they were no longer so rare that natives could not recognize one. In fact, ever since the wolves had started prowling the north, many people actively sought out the spirit-deer. Particularly ones that happened to be Awakened.

"Because I have the dubious honor of calling Oberon my own," she replied drily, patting his flank.

"You picked a dangerous time to come to Sunderland," she observed. "Especially Northport." It was true. No one in their right mind would come to any shores that were haunted by wolves. Particularly so close to the source of the infestation. Rajani was only there, herself, to confirm certain rumors.

"That is a very long story," Rajani told the other woman, only vaguely curious as to whose will she had come to the country under. "But the short version is that the wolves and the Guardians have returned."

Oberon sniffed the offering and, finding nothing untoward, gobbled it up. He blew a soft breath through his nostrils in her face and swiveled his silver-clad ear toward one end of the alley. Rajani nodded at his glance and jerked her head in the other direction.

"Unless you want to have a little fun with your friends, I suggest we take our discussion elsewhere," she said. The gypsy had no problem explaining current events to her temporary companion, but it would be easier if they were not being distracted by drunken thugs. "Not that I would object either way."

It was, in fact, Oberon who led the way out of the alley and away from their would-be pursuers. Once clear of the tavern, it was not so very long a trip to Rajani's current lodging - a place set aside by her people for use by any of their kind who happened to be in the area. At present, she was the only one in residence. Not surprising, given the state of things. Most of The People had more sense than her, it seemed. Still, it was a safe place to rest and she welcomed it.

The entire ragtag menagerie filed into the house and through to the common room, where Oberon settled himself on a fluffy rug and the gypsy poked life back into the banked fire.

Once satisfied with her work, she settled into a chair near the fire and gave her attention to the foreigner. "Ask away."

The gypsy took a moment to gather her thoughts before launching into the tale. It was, as promised, a long one. Of late, Rajani had been making it her business to learn everything that there was to learn about the Guardians and their old nemesis. So, her tale, while detailed, was spun surprisingly well. Only the least interested of audiences could possibly have grown bored. She spoke of a time centuries gone when the wolves grew angry with the humans that shared their world. She spoke of the way that the uncannily intelligent monsters slaughtered the Sunderlanders until the plants were more used to drinking blood than water. She spoke of how weary the Wardwood grew of the bloodshed and how it reached a decision. It would give these defenseless humans help: guardian spirits made flesh to look after them and help them defend themselves.

After the birth of these first Guardians, she told her audience of the Wardens - great warriors amongst the Guardians. The Wardens were strong and fierce and they forced the wolves back and back until they were banished to the far reaches of the north, well beyond Sunderland's borders. There, the wolves diminished until they became little more than beasts, and in Sunderland, the Guardians died out, until they were thought to be nothing more than legends.

"But it seems that the wolves were not content to remain in the North," she continued. "I do not know how canny they are, or if they have regained their former intelligence, but the wolves grew in number. Even as Guardians slowly began returning to Sunderland, they made their way south. Now, they are devouring entire villages on the northern border. Not so very far from here."

"They say that a strange not-man accompanies them. Pale and strange and evil. He will tell you a tale, then steal your life." It might sound like the stuff of children's tales, but the Guardian on the rug and the deadly seriousness of the gypsy lent it credence.

Unfortunately, that was Rajani's though as well. What need for Guardians, especially Awakened Guardians, if not to combat an even greater threat than ever? The wolves were not ordinary beasts by any stretch of the imagination, and they were ravenous.

She sighed and her countenance became one that might be more easily recognized on the face of a general half again her age. She was weary to the soul and burdened with the weight of worries she never would have imagined concerning herself with before Oberon came into her life. Sunderland's future rested with her ilk and she could feel it all too acutely.

"Four that we know of for certain," she said at last. "Add to that isolated homesteads and travelers caught unawares. Then, add to that the battalion of soldiers that vanished. Not to mention all the villages we have lost contact with."

Suddenly, Rajani was struck by the irony of the situation. Here was a stranger to their shores, someone who had just been dropped into a country facing a threat unlike any other in the world, and she was more accepting of and practical about the situation than the vast majority of Sunderlanders. Ok, she says. Just like that.

"Our numbers are growing," she said. "But I would wager that the wolves are more numerous, still." And that was only the beginning of the problem.

"We are not organized," she said, her pent-up frustration suddenly clear in her voice. "For so long, even those who were Chosen refused to believe that the wolves might return. So few of us are prepared. Some are too young or too old. Most are untrained. There is no semblance of organization." An irritated hand ran through her hair.