The next morning, before departing, while they were cooking their breakfast, a jaunty tune begins to fill the air, from quite a distance off; it sounds like a band of violinists, and it seems to be heading their way, from the forests to the southwest. The group stops their morning preparations, confused by the sound, though Damien frowns for a moment, before nodding. "Likely grigs, if I had to guess. Friendly and harmless fae, if you don't antagonize them."