A small crowd gathers as the two approach, some merely curious, welcoming an excuse to take a break from their work, and three children, eager to see if these people are the knights they hear of in fireside stories during the sigana festival. Others however are prepared for trouble, having grabbed sickles, knives or clubs: the traditional Skirith greeting for armed travellers. One man even hefts a mace and another holds back, ready to fetch her father’s wargear should things start to turn nasty.<br/><br/>Yziie joins the crowd, and sees some familiar faces. At the front is Koral, thoroughly spiteful, his hatred of outlanders, especially the knife-ears full blood or half, rivalled by none as she has experienced when not in disguise. Then there’s Julia, a young girl, very nice and fond of dances, and based on the way she awkwardly exchanges smiles with Dalibor across the street, perhaps the rumours about their nightly escapades are true.  And then there’s Slavitsa, a very intelligent farmer who dabbles in trade, having built up contacts with the Academy to supply food and leather for the staff and students’ needs. She is probably the richest member of the settlement, not that the bar is set too high for that.<br/><br/>The crowd drinks in every detail of the new arrivals before them. The horses, good breeds, well fed, the weapons and equipment they carry, the pale blue skin of the man, the woman’s obscured face. An air of disapproval enters the mood, even for the mythology of hunters, these people seem too strange.<br/><br/>And then there is Peter, the headman of Tanhok. He has survived many horrors, the cold blight of last winter, the goblin raid from a decade ago, and in his youth is said to have seen the marsh ship. As headman, he has a reputation for swift justice, though the wisdom his judgements are usually accepted reluctantly if need be, and his strict process with no chance for appeal ensures only matters of the utmost importance end up before him. Peter is getting on in his years, and now needs a short stick to aid him in walking, but still he does his best to stand strong before the two. He has dull blue eyes and a face mottled by wood smoke and work under the sun, his grey peppered hair hidden under a leather skullcap, his otter pelt coat glistening in the late morning sunlight. “Greeting to the pair of you. This is Tanhok. What is your business on the road, are you hunters?” he offers a feral grin smiles, showing beige teeth.