As they neared the farmhouse, Redford looked back at Mirish, a confused expression on his face for a brief moment as though he'd forgotten what she was talking about.<br/><br/>"They boy?" he asked. "Oh! You mean my son? Oh, well he's just here."<br/><br/>He pointed to the scraggly haired figure in the rocking chair, and whereas before it had seemed that the figure was the scarecrow Redford had been referring to, everyone now realised that this figure was Redford's son. His<em>adult</em>son who did not seem to be overly concerned or in any kind of peril.<br/><br/>Nevertheless, Redford moved on to indicate the rear of the property, the sense of dread and trepidation still written into his features, though he was visibly relieved when he noticed Torner and Leigh willing to go out the back and face whatever was out there.<br/><br/>Stepping out from the dark, dank house into the sunlight was really quite pleasant, and they were presented with a peaceful looking cornfield that rippled in the wind.<br/><br/>Only one dark figure disturbed the expanse of golden maize. At first it seemed to be a child, or possibly an adult kneeling. But then, a slight pick-up in the breeze caused the figure's clothes to flap, and it became apparent that what they were looking at was a female halfling who was stood in the middle of the field, stone-still and facing away from them. She made no sound.<br/><br/>"She's been there since sunrise," Redford hissed from the doorway. "Not a single movement. That's not natural! There's something suspicious going on over there, mark my words. Go on then, get rid of the horrid little thing. There haven't been halfling's in Tollmouth for years, where did it come from?"