The farmhouse was an impressively large affair, some three stories high, and it was teeming with activity. There were at least four generations of this family living in the house, two generations below Kellen the farmer and one generation above. The children playing in the farmyard all stopped and looked at Tarrin with undisguised curiosity, and the elderly woman sitting on the house's porch, with her knitting in her lap, eyed Tarrin suspiciously as Kellen brought him up to the front porch. Tarrin was filthy and matted, and he felt his indisposition keenly as the old woman stared at him with her hard eyes. "Mother Wynn, this is Rin," Kellen told the aged woman in a calm voice. "He helped us pull that big stump from the west field."
"That's nice," she said in a calm voice, continuing with her knitting. She was a very small woman, Tarrin noted, with silver hair tied back in a loose bun. Her hands were gnarled from age, but her fingers were still surprisingly nimble as they worked the knitting needles. She was wearing a plain brown wool country dress, and had slippers on her feet. Her face was very old, and wise, thin from the sunken cheeks of her advanced age, and she probably only had three teeth left in her mouth. But her eyes were clear and lucid, a chestnut brown that seemed to see absolutely everything with the most cursory of glances. "Your wife won't let him through the front door looking like that," she warned. "You need to clean yourself up, Rin," she told him.
"I know, ma'am, but I haven't had the time," he said shyly.
She gave him a calm look. "Ian, take him out back and show him where the wellpump is. Brint, he's about your size. You have a decent shirt and pants he can wear?"
"I think I have something, Mother Wynn," Brint replied respectfully.
"I'd appreciate the chance to bathe, but I can't stay long, ma'am," Tarrin told her, "so there's no need for me to get clothes. Master Kellen offered me a meal for my help. Once I get the meal, I'll be moving on. And I can eat on the porch just as easily as inside."
She gave him a simple look, and grunted in assent. "Have your mother fix Rin a plate," she told Brint.
Ian took Tarrin around to the back of the house. Tarrin was surprised that none of the children followed. There was a wellpump and a trough of water right behind the house, close to the door opening to the kitchen. "The water's not that warm, but it should be alright," Ian told him gruffly.
"Thank you," Tarrin said sincerely, taking off his shirt.
"Yer ribs are sticking out like branches," Ian noted.
"I haven't been getting much food lately," Tarrin replied.
Tarrin washed up as best he could in the trough, dunking his shirt and twisting out most of the smell and dirt, then scrubbing out the mats in his fur. His hair still had the same braid in it that Jesmind put in it, but he still tried to wash out his hair the best he could with the braid in it. He couldn't put it back, and it was much too convenient for it to stay in the braid. After he was done, he walked back around the house. Everyone else was gone, inside, except for the elderly woman Mother Wynn. She had a plate with roasted chicken and carrots in her lap. There was another such plate sitting on the porch by the steps. She motioned at it. "Have a seat, boy," she said.
"Thank you," he said politely. "You don't have to sit out here with me, ma'am," he said.
"Maybe not, but I always sit on the porch when I eat," she said. "An old lady has the right to eat wherever she wants." Tarrin sat down and attacked the large mound of roasted chicken pieces. It had been a very long time since he'd had a cooked meal, and even longer since he'd had that much food at one time. "Try not to swallow the bones," she remarked with a crooked grin.
"It's been a while," he said between bites.
"I gathered," she said pointedly. "Who are you running from?"
"I offended a large tribe of Dargu that decided that my home range belonged to them," Tarrin lied. "They decided to press the argument, even after I killed some of them. I decided to take a little trip into the human lands, since they won't come into the human lands, but I've not had much of a welcome from you humans either," he elaborated. "I have no money for food, and there's no game worth hunting so deep into the human lands, so I've had nothing to eat. Master Kellen is the first that's been nice to me."
"Kellen likes to feed strays," the old woman said with a shrug.
"I feel like a stray," Tarrin sighed. "I can't go back to my den til the Dargu aren't expecting me. Then I'll discuss the living arrangements with them one at a time," he said grimly.
"Sounds like fun," she remarked.
"Not for them, it won't be," he growled.
She cackled evilly. "I don't mind seeing a few less Dargu in the world," she told him.
"Try about fifty," Tarrin said.
"No wonder you decided to leave," she said.
Tarrin nodded. "I can handle three or four, but not fifty. I'm going to let them go back to my range and get comfortable, and then I'm going to start killing them one at a time," he told her. "Once I have them down to a managable number, then I'll start getting unpleasant. A few very messy and graphic object lessons should let them know that I'm back."
She cackled again. "I like you, strange one," she said. "You have a flair for the dramatic."
"Fear is a good motivator with Dargu," Tarrin told her, falling back on his many lessons from his father. "If I can scare them enough, they'll leave my home range without so much as a fare thee well. But they're brave in numbers, so I have to get rid of some of those numbers before I can start my little terror rampage."
"You know the dog-faces pretty well," she said clinically.
He nodded. "It's best to understand some of your more unpleasant neighbors," he told her.
"Smart boy," she complemented.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said politely, tearing off another chunk of chicken with his sharp teeth.
"Sounds like you have a good plan there," she told him.
"I hope so," he replied. "We'll find out soon."
"I reckon you will at that."
They ate in silence for a while. "How long have you been here?" Tarrin asked. "If you don't mind my asking."
"I've been here all my life," she said with a dreamy smile. "I was born on this farm, in this house, eighty years ago. And I'll die here."
"Home is the best place to be," Tarrin agreed calmly.
"It is indeed."
Tarrin looked down at the plate, and was surprised that it was clean. The bones were all stripped totally bare, and he'd even found the time to eat the carrots, although he honestly couldn't remember doing it. "Well, that's about that," he said, looking at his plate. "I'd best be moving on. I don't want to upset your house any more than I already have."
"Not quite yet," she said. "Since I'm an old woman and it won't make any difference, why don't you tell me why you're really running?" she said with a mischievious smile.
Tarrin grimaced ruefully. "I thought I was a better liar than that," he said.
"You're a good liar, boy," she admitted with a grin. "The problem is, I'm better at seeing the truth than you are at lying. You wouldn't lie to a decrepid old woman, would you?"
"I thought I already did," he said.
She cackled loudly, slapping her hand on her knee several times. "I like you, boy," she repeated. "Now then, out with it. Who are you, and what's got you running so hard you don't have time to take a bath?"
"My name is Tarrin," he told her honestly. "I am running from Dargu. And Trolls, and Waern, and Bruga, and whoever else has decided to chase me today. I have no idea why they're chasing me, though. I came down into the human lands because they won't follow me. There are too many humans for them to hide." He put the plate down. "I'm supposed to be a student at the Tower of Sorcery. If I can ever get there, that is," he sighed.