Bea nods. "Suits me. Maybe Adam or..." she glances back at the runes one more time, unsure, "someone...can help make sense of it."
As you make your way through the path you so laboriously cut through the brambles, you see another will-o'-wisp drift out from around the tower. It doesn't pursue, though. You reach the beach in plenty of time to be picked up.
One other thing--while Katya is copying down the symbols, Vasily spots a few carvings that she otherwise would have missed.
The fisherfolk agree to drop you off on the far shore of the Tuskwater (Vasily and The Fitcher may note some money surreptitiously changing hands when they collect you from the island; you suspect that someone had laid a bet against you surviving the second trip.) As they leave you off, one shouts, "Your majesty! Watch out for the Swamp Witch!"
The far shore is, well, mucky. It's a slow slog through the area, and the midges and other insect life make it an annoying one.
Bea's pleasant smile and wave at the departing transport freeze uncomfortably. "Swamp....witch? Anyone know a thing about that?"
"Some sort of hag who's supposed to live in the swamps around here. The locals blame her anytime a child goes missing. Probably more story than reality."
"Hmm.". Bea scrunches her face momentarily, looking as if with keen interest at a bare spot on the ground. "Be cautious, but if we meet this witch, don't attack less we know she aims to hurt us. Could be just some lonely hermet."
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The Fitcher nods sagely. Every quality swamp has at least one witch. They don't always need killing.
Katya shrugs her shoulders as she looks around curiously, "Maybe having a witch around would be useful. I can always use another source of reagents for my studies."
You make such preparations as you deem necessary and head into the swamp. The weather isn't too bad, although (as you would expect) the bugs swarm you whenever the wind slows at all. There's a lot of squishing around. Strelka is distinctly unhappy at having to splash through mud, glaring at everyone in the party except Vasily.
It is during one of the times that the wind is still that Vasily and The Fitcher, peering past the clouds of gnats, see a thin trail of smoke rising in the distance. For lack of a better landmark, you make your way towards its source. From closer, you can see that there is a hut atop a small hummock surrounded by fetid marshland, surrounded by a wooden fence.
"Huh. A hut in the swamp. Witch?"
"I can't imagine anyone else wanting to live out here." Vasily heads toward the fence, looking around warily for anything that seems threatening. Given that this is reputed to be a witch, that includes pumpkins, cats, and baby dolls as well as the usual dangerous items.
There are various crudely carved fetishes, made from sticks, feathers, and what looks like small animal bones, hanging off of the fence. From a nearby tree a crow caws loudly, breaking the silence and startling everyone. There's a gate in the fence on your side of the hummock, hanging askew from a single rope hinge. Next to the gate a crooked post stands not-quite-upright, a rusted iron bell hanging on it. A scarecrow is propped up on a pole about halfway between the gate and the hut.
Bea reaches out curiously and briefly touches one of the fetishes, before turning back to the group and nodding an affirmative. "Witch." Turning back to the grizzly yard, she stares intensely at the various items, and the hut itself for a few moments, trying to discern their purpose.
Vasily nods at the bell. "We came to talk, we might as well ring the bell and be polite." He raises his hand to ring the bell, looking over at the others to see if any of them objected to the idea before he rings it.
Bea detects nothing malignant.
The Fitcher, inspecting the fetishes with an appraising eye, shrugs in Vasily's general direction as if to say, "Why not? What could possibly go wrong."
He takes a few steps toward the scarecrow, wondering why anyone with no crops would be interested in scaring away birds.
The Fitcher respects the fetishes of whoever lives in the hut. He or she obviously intends for these symbols to mark the property, and The Fitcher won't step past them. He'll wait to see what the bell summons.
He touches the Zoic fetish hanging from his neck, mumbling a few words in the ancient Druidish language, to ward off unwanted spirits.
Katya looks over the hut and surrounding mess, "Not much for living in luxury I guess." Katya's eyes start to glow blue as she scans over the area.
The scarecrow is magic.
Vasily rings the bell, the rusty clapper screeching from long disuse before clanging into the side of the bell with a metallic clatter that echoes across the desolate marsh. As the sound dies away, an old woman's voice comes from the inside of the hut. "Go away!"
The Fitcher's brow furrows in curiosity, and a hint of frustration, but in the end he simply shrugs his shoulders. The witch seeks to maintain her privacy. I have no wish to disturb it.
As you prepare to retreat in something other than blind panic, the door of the hut opens and an old woman totters out, leaning heavily on a walking stick. "You're a polite lot, I'll give you that. Who are you, anyway?"
Clearing her throat, Bea calls out to the old woman, "Beatrix, ma'am. Founded a new town not far from here, wanted to meet the neighbors. As there's been a flood of new settlers in the area, figured to warn you in case you're not overly fond of crowds - you'd not be the only one in these parts wanting to get away from them."
"We don't mean to disturb you, ma'am, we're just trying to be polite."
The Fitcher simply offers his friendliest smile, letting Bea do the talking and listening for any indication that the witch-woman is not what she seems.
Katya looks at the rest of the group for the time they spend talking, nodding once the pleasantries are out of the way and speaking herself, "If however, you might prefer some company, I would be very interested in any reagents you might be able to provide the locations for, either here or out in the wild. If want an exchange, I'm sure we can come to a reasonable agreement."
Katya maintains a level voice, treating the witch as an equal in her spoken words.
She motions you to come into the yard, tapping the scarecrow with her cane and calling, "Stand down!" From her speaking volume, she seems to be a little hard of hearing. "Thank ye for the warning, but until they start draining the swamp I don't think I have much to fear. Now, you mentioned reagents, young miss? If you're competent, there's something out there that I'll pay you handsomely for. Dangerous, though."
Beatrix simply looks at Katya and nods in approval.
Katya shrugs her shoulders and says, "We stand in the Stolen Lands. Danger is expected with everything we do out here. What would you like retrieved Ma'am?"
She gives Katya an unpleasantly knowing smile. "Mushrooms. Black rattlecaps, to be exact."
Vasily recalls seeing some of that particular sort of fungus recently, but doesn't recall where before the old woman goes on.
"They grow in the Mud Bowl--the hot spring just across the Tuskwater from here. Watch out for the tendriculos, though."
Vasily grimaces. "We saw it. Nasty thing."
The old woman bids you a curt farewell and limps back into her hut; the scarecrow turns its head to follow you as you depart.