Cyril had arrived much later than Hefeydd, taking his time to trace the ever-growing magical signature. It led him towards the fairies' clearing, yet he had not discovered the way in. As the folklorist was poking about, he noticed some birds' feathers on the ground. They weren't old or cast off, lustrous and fairly new. A faint stench of sulfur came off of it, and with a careful prod of his staff he saw a thin thread. Feathers, tied together with something? There was magical energy coming off of it, but not the same as what he was feeling nearby. Focusing, he could clearly tell it was very different. The magic of the nearby fairy-grove which was still hidden from his eyes had a buoyant, airy aura radiating from it. These few feathers emanated a heaviness. A sorcerer or sorceress…

Possibly circumstantial evidence that happened to align with his own preconceived notions, but a significant clue nonetheless. Fairies liked pretty things, even if they could be cruel. There was no 'fairy dust', which was what the residual magic left behind by the fair folk was called in layman's terms. "Come to think of it, it was rather quiet on the way here. Something passed by here, and recently." Leaving the feathers as they were, he found pieces of large leaves made into the shape of small garments scattered about with a portion of the ground devoid of fallen detritus. He probably shouldn't continue further, as he had been given a strong warning by the enchanted familiars, but he felt the matter had become his responsibility. If there truly was someone practicing magic of malevolent origin, for the townsfolk's sake he should root them out and banish them.

If it were one of the village boys instead of him who stumbled this deep into the woods, what would happen? Perhaps this was a sign for him to take the initiative and see this task to the end. With spells at the ready, he moved with careful stealth than the casual strolling before. Sliding a lacriamium-obsidian blade into his left hand, he was now fully-alert. Any creature with ill-intent would be met with his weapon in response.

Hefeydd's scouting amounted to him flying around in a growing spiral, ducking and dodging tree branches as he glanced down at the ground every so often. It wasn't in any way thorough, but he felt like he had accomplished something when he finally set down in the center of the clearing. He looked over one shoulder, wing twitching nervously as he felt almost like someone was watching him. He couldn't see anyone, though and wrapped up in shadows as he was… There was no way anyone could see him, was there? He remained still for as long as he could. It amounted to a couple of seconds and then he was walking around the glade, looking for signs of whatever could be keeping his people away from here. He had returned victoriously, hadn't he? Mortals had been punished, reminded of their place in the grand scheme of things. A few more days and there would be offerings left daily for the little folk! There should have been someone here to greet him at least. He slumped into a pile on the ground, tiny heart breaking at the thought that maybe, just maybe, his efforts were going unappreciated.

Something lying in the grass ahead caught his eye and he was back on his feet, the moment of depression passing as though it had never happened. By the time he reached the object he had forgotten all about it, focused as he was. He lifted up the robe, recognising it immediately. Aerwyna had been wearing this when he had left. It was a pretty blue, it matched her hair. He quite liked it. Why would she leave it here, to get all dirty? He looked down at his own robes and realised he couldn't speak say much, he was still sticky and stained from the berries earlier. He glanced down at the robe, considering it. His own robes were special, these were not. As far as he was aware, Aerwyna didn't change her size. He discarded the robe and wandered off. He needed to clean his robes or find replacements, and quick. When the others got back from wherever they had gone he didn't want them seeing him in such a state! Yes, he would clean his robes. There was a stream nearby. He could clean them there. This new course set in his mind he started walking in that direction, he had flown quite a bit today and wanted to rest his wings for a while. The stream wasn't that far away. He caught his foot on something hard, tripping over and rolling forwards.

He came to a halt, sprawled out and seething. He rolled onto his side and looked around angrily, trying to find the naughty fairy who was trying to prank him. But the glade remained empty, still. He couldn't remember when he had dropped his shadows, but he became aware he was bare now. The world could see him. Or, if there was anyone around they would be able to see him. But he was all alone… A shiver went down his spine, the feeling of being watched returning to him now. Almost shyly, he got to his feet, muttering under his breath. It was more to make himself feel better than because of any feelings of animosity. He had never been alone here before. As far as he knew, nobody had. There were always fairies here. He patted himself down, looking for something to defend himself with if it came down to that, but he had nothing. Just his magic. Which was formidable! He wasn't going to be intimidated! He glared at the empty area surrounding him and stalked back to where he had tripped over. Melusine's staff was lying on the ground, just lying there for anyone to trip on! How careless of her! He nudged it with his toe, not wanting to pick it up. Sometimes, crafty fairies would put traps on their belongings. Try and trick others into taking them so bad things would happen. Hefeydd wasn't born yesterday though. Oh no he wasn't. He glanced around to find Melusine, hiding off to the side to enjoy seeing him cry out when he activated whatever trap she had placed. There was nobody. Still. Hed stamped his foot and called out. "This isn't funny! Where is everyone?!" His little voice echoed, and he waited. No response. Fine! Let them be like that! He was going to go wash his robes! As he went he noticed more things scattered around, a charm here, more clothing there. These were bad fairies, leaving their home in such a mess.

Hefeydd huffed and puffed the whole way there, furious with the people he was meant to be here defending. If not for him… Well, if not for him they would go hungry! Other folk might come in and take away their glade! He was too important to be treated in this way! He was going to leave as soon as his robe was clean and then he wasn't going to come back for a very long time. Let someone else come out here and deal with the mortals. He wasn't going to. Not anymore. Let them come crawling back to him, begging for his help. He would send them all away with kicks to their rears! Let them ignore that! He had other places to be. More of his people to help. He didn't have time to be here playing silly games with silly folk. He reached the edge of the water and slipped his robe off over his head, his wings and hair springing back up as the robe came loose. He dumped it into the water and began to scrub at it, continuing his tirade the entire time. He didn't notice the sleek black cat, crouched down low and creeping up on him. He was using a little bit of fire magic to dry off the robe, slipping it over his head when it was still just a little damp, when the cat pounced.

The sound of sudden movement following the crunch of dried leaves made him turn around, just in time to see a cat jump onto something. Startled, he took a step back. Cyril sighed in relief when he saw it was just a black kitty. He was half-tempted to think it was another familiar when he saw how it batted something around with the same determined focus Millie did back home. The boy watched for a while until he realized the thing the cat was playing with happened to be alive. "Oh…oh no! Wait, stop–bad kitty!" What should he do? He had to think quick, do something before the poor creature was chewed. "…Ah! Kitty look over here! Look over here! Here kitty kitty kitty…" Taking the feathers on a string he cast a spell on them so they glowed and began waving it about to lure the cat over.  

The cat caught a glimpse of the moving shiny thing and froze, entranced. The moving shiny thing was much more attractive at the moment than the large bug with shiny wings in its mouth, so it dropped the little fairy and began crouching. It scooted back on its hind legs and its tail swayed before its eyes flashed–then with a leap it lunged for the glowing feathers! Cyril let go of the string the feathers were on, and the cat rolled about tussling with the improvised feather toy. It then stopped to look at him before scampering away back into the dark underbrush. Satisfied with his successful diversion, he crossed his arms beaming with pride. His brother would be proud of him for coming up with such a good plan on the fly. 

Coming out of his thoughts he went over to see what the cat had left behind. It looked like a small winged doll…kind of like a– "Fairy!" His heart skipped a little. This was the first confirmed magical being he had seen up until now! He wasn't sure about the bunnies but this was definitely a fairy. He had seen pictures in books and heard his father talk about the smaller fair folk he had met in his travels. Carefully nudging the fairy, Cyril asked with concern. "Hey, are you alright? Does anything hurt?" This would be the first time he'd actually seen Heyfedd despite the latter's attempts at harassment. Being the good-natured person as he was, any thoughts of suspicion never crossed the boy's mind.

The robe was still over his head, obscuring his vision when something heavy landed on him. Hefeydd let out a surprised yelp and then he was being tossed around like some kind of toy. Brief snatches of the scene outside his robe were visible from the hole he was desperately trying to get his head through. He saw a big black mass of fur, vicious paws, hateful eyes gleaming away. Oh, as soon as he was out of this confounding robe he was going to… The cat broke away from him, leaving him breathless on the ground with the robe resting over his face. Sitting up, he pulled it down and into position then looked around. Over there, batting something around, was a cat. THE cat that had dared attack poor Hefeydd in his moment of vulnerability. Eyes narrowed in a glare, he summoned magic and sent a bolt of electricity at the cat's wiggling butt, shocking it and sending it running off with a yowl of pain. His enemy justly punished he finally noticed there was someone else standing nearby.

The stranger had a familiar look about him, but then all mortals looked alike really. Big and clumsy, that's all they were, stomping around. He had pretty hair though, it looked a lot like Hefeydd's. Why was that the mortal so familiar? He struggled to get up and then his foot tap tap tapped away as he tried to puzzle it out. Did he know the mortal from somewhere? Had they met? Had they played? None of that sounded quite right… The mortal set upon him, then, nudging and prodding at him and prattling on. Hefeydd brushed his the mortal away, his own hands flapping comically as he spluttered. "Geddaway geddaway geddaway!" he cried out before his wings began to beat, lifting him off the ground so he could flit around the mortal and come to hover in front of his face, a serious expression upon his own. "What are you doing here? Was that your cat?"

The familiar in question was crouched low in some bushes, not too far away, licking his wounded rear and feeling sorry for himself. An order from his mistress had him poking his head out of cover, however, to watch the two converse. The little one, the one his mistress wanted, seemed to be working himself into a state. The mistress was on her way though. She would take care of them both, adding the fairy to her collection.

"Cat? That's not my cat. I hear screaming so I came over. Cats really like playing with small flying things! But…that was probably bad for you huh?" Cyril guessed the fairy wasn't friends with the kitty if he was so mad at being batted around. Wild cats were a rarity in the short time he had been on the road, especially solid-colored ones. Weren't they usually tabbies or spotted? Solid black was even more rare. Cyril was too busy talking with the little fae to think more on the cat's presence earlier. Here he had thought he was on the trail of a reclusive sorcerer, or sorceress. But perhaps he had been wrong? Well since somebody who lived in this forest was here, why not ask a few questions?

Looking thoughtful, the folklorist asked: "Sir, do you live in this forest? I was wondering if you know if there are any hermits or wizards living out in the woods. There's been some strange things going on ever since I came in here." Remembering what his mother told him about fairies, he quickly added. "Oh, you don't need to tell me your name! That's kind of a sensitive topic for you, right?" Despite his oddness, he was quite the considerate boy even when talking to infamous tricksters like the fair folk. Yet he had this feeling that he and the fairy were being watched by something…or someone. Cyril didn't see anything giving them away, and wondered if it was just his imagination playing tricks. The fairy was definitely real from what he could tell by his senses.