Falice and Markov travelled north through the damp grass until they soon saw a wooden building ahead of them.
“This place better be worth my time Markov,” Falice warned calmly, aggravated by the muddy patches.
The skies above were silent and the smell usually found after a rainy storm drifted along them. They slowly walked up a steep hill of freshly cut grass, that differed greatly from the surrounding landscape. More mud clung to their shoes as they reached the top. Finally Falice knew he would be able to tell if word of his actions had reached this isolated inn that now beheld him.
He stared at the cabin-like appearance of the inn, but it seemed so much more. The door was wooden but its knob was silver and bore engravings that looked unmistakably welsh.
The door itself contained a striking image of a dragon carved lightly into its wood and the roof, when Falice stared towards the heavens, was magnified with greatness as it bore a statue of a forest, just like the one surrounding it. The artist of that statue must have been in a hurry though, as it depicted the trunks and crowns of many trees but had no particular detail besides that.
“It’s wonderful Falice isn’t it,” Markov said as he too admired the architecture of the inn.
“It truly is,” Falice replied, “but tell me Markov, how did you learn about a place like this?”
Markov’s eyes left the inn and landed on Falice. “My dad used to take me here. The day before he died he showed me around the inside of the inn, closely examining every detail. He and the owner Olle were close friends, and I remember before we left that day they got into a quarrel about how some of Olle’s Highland cattle and sheep went missing by the lake down there.”
Falice peered to where Markov was pointing. Behind the inn down another steep hill there was indeed a grazing ground with Highland cattle and sure enough to the right of the grazing ground lay a tremendous lake, circular in shape with the forest bordering it tightly.
“Shall we go inside then,” Falice said with a note of impatience.
Markov was still observing the grazing grounds below. One of the Highland cows was heading towards the lake. It bowed its head as it neared the water and proceeded to drink. In the distance Markov’s eye caught a glance of some ripples forming in the water ahead of the cow.
“Markov, I highly suggest you accompany me inside,” Falice commanded smoothly with growing impatience.
Markov was still staring intently at the grounds below, it seemed that the cow had noticed the ripples as it raised it’s head in the direction of the disturbance but still proceeded to lower it again and continue drinking.
The ripples moved until they were emanating from at least four meters from the cow, who had not noticed this movement. Abruptly a grey neck rose out the water, long and sturdy, and followed by a bald head bearing fierce eyes and even fiercer teeth. Even from above the creature looked menacingly large with it's hump-like back that was partially exposed as water encircled it. The head lunged towards the poor cow and dragged it back under the surface of the water in a swift movement. Water splashed as this happened only revealing within the disturbance a glimpse of its slender tail.
The rest of the Highland cattle continued to graze undisturbed, as the skies above grew darker with grey clouds and a western wind blew by, dragging all warmth that remained in Markov. The times were truly changing.
