Lydia felt like she was a feather floating to the top as the cloaked man hoisted her up. Before she knew it, they were both standing in the quiet forest with the pine trees blocking out the moon and starlight. Night birds were calling, discussing Poor Will, whip poor will, they called. Lydia knew if the birds were softly calling that there was no threat from the nobles to be found.<br/>“Follow me,” she whispered and crept through the ferns. They had not gone far from where they had rolled the concealing stone when they came to a moonlight clearing. The tiny house set well back almost swallowed by the shadows.<br/><br/>“My grandmother’s herb cottage,” she explained with a quick flick of her wrist. This place is well warded and I’m positive that no one unless the house allows it, can see it. We are lucky, you and I,” she beamed at him. “Usually the house has to have had your name repeated to it for weeks before a visit but today, that house knew what I had come for. I should probably learn to listen to my intuition. “<br/><br/>The cottage was made of native stone and barely was large enough for two people. Lydia had stayed there as a young acolyte and had been successful but there was no way she would voluntarily stay there alone.<br/><br/>“Won’t you stay?” she asked the  man, giving him a sweet smile.<br/>