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Pets whose uncert links are crossed out have already been won:


1. Amorpheous 2. Umbrology 3. Amorpheous 4. Chrystali 5. Umbrology
Foxes one through four are companion pets; fox five is a witch's familiar.


1. Amorpheous 2. Chrystali 3. Umbrology 4. Amorpheous 5. Chrystali
All five rabbits are companion pets, not familiars!


1. Umbrology 2. Umbrology 3. Umbrology
All three hawks are companion pets, not familiars!


4. Amorpheous 5. Amorpheous 6. Amorpheous
All three hawks are companion pets, not familiars!

The air was crisp and the woods filled with an eerie quietness. The atmosphere fit her mood perfectly, and as Soibhan picked her way through the underbrush, she silently fumed at everything bad that had happened to her recently.

And it all started with that damn noble...

She hadn't thought to bring any liquor with her, but perhaps that was for the best. With her luck, her drunken a** would no doubt tumble down a hill into a river and drown in a foot of water.

Boy, Rajani would have a sure hoot with that.

A smile curved her lips just as something caught her eye. Footprints? Wee ones. A dog maybe? Curious, she began to follow them.

McSweeney rides with Pontefract
and with that the world goes round.
Home from safari, things went awry
and no help came, nor peep or sound.
Fondly melded bent boots went on,
he took to the forest, eyes to ground.
With a jaunty tune and apple,
he took a wager to see what could be found.

Killian found himself on another safari of a much less exotic variety. Although sea monsters or pirates were no longer possibilities, the risks here were just as great. He found the damning tracks near where the grand old trees overlook his reading nook. It's as if the creature dared to go up to his window and looked in. Intrigued and in a good mood for adventure, he pressed on. Footsteps murdered the dry undergrowth.

There were many that chose to ride when they hunted, and Lucterius di Laurentius did, too: to a point. He disliked bringing horses into the woods; they were fine and fast creatures in the open fields, but large and cumbersome when trees crowded in his vision and he'd ventured off the path. He supposed that was what dogs and squires were for, but there was little joy in tracking prey that had been brought to him practically upon a platter, like so many other things. Besides, he wanted the story more than the prize: sweet Fiordelisia would be far happier to hear the tale than to see a little carcass, though she appreciated those, too.

So thus without a steed he treaded carefully, eyes all around him. A squire tailed him with caution, of course, but Lucterius paid him no mind - he was merely there to carry the compass, so that they would not be lost to the wolves on their way back. He liked stories, but he disliked the idea of lacking preparation. His daughter and Signe were waiting for him to return from this venture, after all.

Margaret knelt at the edge of the Wardwood, leaving her customary offering of milk and a bit of honey at the roots of a spreading young oak. Pausing to flick her braid back over her shoulder as she stood, she squared her shoulders and breathed a near-silent prayer to the spirits, only for welcome and to pass unmolested through these sacred trees.

Her blessing completed, the healer hefted her empty herb-basket and stumped off into the trees.

The forest is quiet; by now most of the birds have migrated south, and the only sounds you've heard for the past several minutes are the rustling of the breeze in the trees, the plop of acorns falling, the quiet scraping rustle as a leaf descends to the forest floor, and the occasional rasp of a squirrel gnawing on a nut's shell in the distance. It is peaceful — or, depending on your character's preferences, a little eerie.

The shrill, almost-human scream of a rabbit's death cry shatters the silence. Once you've taken a moment to recover (or, if you're a badass mofo, coolly evaluate the situation) you head in the scream's direction. It could be the work of a hawk, but there's still a good chance a fox is nearby.

You win three points this turn.

Total points: 3

Conri was dressed in fine fabrics, but they were not so lush as a nobleman's. A family of scholars with good connections allowed him the luxury of doing as he wished and an ancestry deeply entrenched in the Old Ways meant that none who knew him would think it strange that he was walking amongst the Wardwood. This was his family's home after all, the wolf-stones his kin. He blinked, already narrow eyes staring shrewdly out at the lay of the land before him, the small differences in the underbrush that grew between the trees. Brushing stray hairs away from his face, he walked on, looking for clues to his quarry.