Anna and Sable’s strange adventures in Dolmenwood continue.

If you missed session 1, you can click here to read it.

🌿 The Clearing, Thick with Scent

Sadie froze mid‑sniff, ears lifting like twin pennants. A low “HoooRooo…?” bubbled out of her chest — uncertain, questioning, but not afraid. Her tail made one slow, uneasy sweep.

Anna stepped half‑behind her, half‑in front, unsure whether to shield or be shielded.

Mogget the Mossling’s chanterelle‑shaped nose twitched with theatrical disdain.

Mogget: “Don’t make those noises at me, shaggy debt‑walker. I know that scent. Old as leaf‑rot, that is. Your line has carried it for… nine generations? Ten? Hard to count when the forest keeps its own calendar.”

Sadie answered with a sharp “WOOF!”, affronted, then sniffed the air again, confused by the strange fungal musk rolling off Mogget.

Anna frowned. “She’s not a debt‑walker. She’s Sadie. And I’m not her servant — although it sometimes feels that way. And what do you mean line?”

Mogget jabbed a stubby finger toward Sadie, who responded with a suspicious “Rrrr‑hooo…” and a sideways lean behind Anna’s legs.

Mogget: “Your beast still carries the smell of my stolen truffle on her breath. Or at least her great‑great‑even‑greater grandfinder did. Same thing in the woods, isn’t it.”

Sadie’s ears shot up. “HoooROOOO!”
Anna translated automatically: “She says she’s never stolen anything from you.”

Mogget: “Of course she hasn’t. She’s far too young and far too… hairy. But her fore‑fore‑fore‑fore‑something did. And the scent clings. Not a truffle — no, no, no. I’d not be so petty. A truffle‑imp. A rare one. A clever one. Mine.”

Sadie’s tail thumped once, uncertainly. She sniffed the ground, then Mogget, then Anna, then Mogget again, letting out a soft “woof?” as if asking for clarification.

Mogget: “Yes, yes, you can smell it too, can’t you? The echo of the imp’s favour. Your ancestor stole its luck — its knack for finding what’s hidden. And the scent followed. Down and down and down… to you.”

Anna felt Sadie press against her leg, warm and trembling with the effort of understanding.

Anna: “So what do you want from her?”

Mogget’s grin widened, revealing teeth like polished hazelnuts.

Mogget: “A trade. A task. A settling of old woodland accounts. Bring me the truffle‑imp’s echo — the last place it touched the world before it vanished. Do that, and the debt is cleared.”

Sadie gave a determined “WOOF!”, tail up now, ready for a quest she didn’t fully understand but absolutely intended to complete.

Mogget pointed deeper into the trees, where the light dimmed to a greenish hush.

Mogget: “Follow the scent only she can smell. The Hollow of Three Whispers. Bring back what stirs there.”

🍄 Anna’s Bargain — The Skill Check in Play

Mogget inhales sharply, that chanterelle‑nose flaring like a bellows. Sadie yelps — not in pain, but in bewilderment — as if something has been tugged loose inside her.

She sniffs the air.
Then the ground.
Then Anna.
Then Mogget.

A confused, hollow “Hooo…?” escapes her.
I have her sense of smell — and she no longer smells like herself.

Anna’s eyes narrow. “What did you just take?”

Mogget rolls the invisible something between his fingers, smug.
“Her scent. Her signature. Her story‑smell. Collateral until my truffle‑imp’s echo is returned.”

Mogget clutched the invisible bundle of Sadie’s scent in his moss‑stained fist, smug as a squirrel with a stolen nut.

Sadie whined — a thin, uncertain “Hooo…?” — and pressed her head against Anna’s hip. She could no longer smell the world, and she no longer smelled like herself. It was wrong. Hollow. Unsettling.

Anna squared her shoulders.

Anna:
“If she can’t smell properly, she can’t find your truffle‑imp. And if she can’t find your truffle‑imp, you’ll never get your scent back. That’s a foolish bargain, even for a,” Anna flicked through her grandmothers book until she found the page, “mossling.”

Mogget’s mushroom‑nose twitched.
He didn’t like being called foolish.

Anna pressed on, voice steady, eyes bright with that mix of courage and irritation she’d perfected over years of dealing with Sadie’s nonsense.

Anna:
“Let her keep her nose. Take only her scent. She can track — but nothing can track her. That’s fair. That gets you what you want.”

Sadie added a decisive “WOOF!”, stamping a paw as if to underline the point.

🎲 The Skill Check Roll

Anna’s argument: +1
Her natural charisma: +1
Roll: 5
Total: 7 — well above the 4+ needed.

A success.

🍄 Mogget’s Reaction

Mogget froze.
His eyes narrowed.
His chanterelle‑nose quivered like a tuning fork.

Then, with a theatrical sigh, he loosened his grip on the invisible scent.

Mogget:
“Fine. Fine! Keep your beast’s nose. She may smell the world — but she will not smell of the world. Not until the debt is paid.”

He flicked his fingers, and something unseen — warm, familiar, Sadie — rushed back into the hound.

Sadie’s ears perked.
She sniffed the air.
Then the ground.
Then Anna.
Then Mogget.

A triumphant “HoooROOOO!” echoed through the clearing.

She had her sense of smell back.
But she still carried no scent of her own.

A fair bargain.
A woodland bargain.
A quest sealed.

Anna rested a hand on Sadie’s head.
“We’ll get it back.”

Sadie leaned into her, tail wagging with renewed purpose.

Down Harrid’s Lane.

Anna tugged the lead.
Sadie planted all four paws, ears flat, tail stiff, body angled southward like a furry compass needle.

Anna: “Sadie, come on. We’re going west.”

Sadie responded with a deep, mulish “HoooROOO…”, leaning back with the full weight of a determined GBGV. Anna braced her boots in the leaf‑litter and pulled.

🎲 Strength Check

STR –1
Roll: 4
Total: 3 — failure

Anna’s arms trembled. Her boots slipped. Her patience frayed.

Anna: “Fine! Have it your way, you stubborn little—”

She released the tension on the lead.

Instantly, Sadie spun on her paws and marched south with brisk, purposeful strides, tail high, nose low, baying a triumphant “WOOF‑roo‑roo!”

Anna stumbled after her, exasperated and laughing despite herself.

Anna: “Alright, alright! South it is. But you’d better be right.”

Sadie didn’t look back.
She didn’t need to.
She knew exactly where she was going.

🌿 Harrid’s Lane

Harrid’s Lane wound south like a lazy serpent, narrow and half‑claimed by moss. Brambles leaned in from both sides as if curious who would dare walk such a forgotten path. It was only three miles from the crossroads to the House of the Harridwen Inn, but with Sadie leading the way, it felt closer to ten.

Sadie pottered along at her own deliberate pace, nose glued to the ground, tail swaying like a metronome. Every other blade of grass demanded inspection. Every tuft of moss required a full olfactory interrogation. And with her own scent missing — stolen and tucked away in Mogget’s invisible pocket — she seemed even more determined to catalogue every smell the lane had to offer.

Anna, meanwhile, had her hands full.

Anna: “Sadie, no— don’t you dare roll in that. That’s not even mud, that’s… that’s something else entirely.”

Sadie paused, gave a hopeful “roo?”, then lunged toward a patch of suspiciously dark vegetation. Anna yanked the lead just in time.

Anna: “Absolutely not. I’m not bathing you in a mossling’s puddle.”

Sadie huffed, offended, and returned to sniffing the verge with renewed purpose.

🎲 Random Encounter Check

Chance: 2 in 6
Roll: 4
Result: No encounter

The woods watched them pass but offered no interruptions — no whispering sprites, no hungry moss‑things, no wandering friars with questionable motives. Just the soft rustle of leaves and the distant croak of something amphibious and unseen.

The lane twisted. It narrowed. It widened again. Time stretched like taffy.

And then, at last, the trees parted.

Ahead stood a crooked, many‑gabled structure of timber and moss‑green slate: the House of the Harridwen Inn. Smoke curled from its chimneys. Lantern‑light glowed warm behind leaded windows. A wooden sign creaked gently in the breeze, carved with the stylised form of a long‑necked, antlered creature mid‑leap.

Sadie stopped sniffing.
Her tail lifted.

She gave a soft, anticipatory “woof.”

They had arrived.

🌧️ The Weather Turns

They stood at the threshold of the clearing, the crooked silhouette of the House of the Harridwen Inn rising before them like a slumbering beast of timber and slate. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney. A lantern swung on its hook, creaking in the stillness.

Sadie sniffed the air, tail low, uncertain.
Anna hesitated beside her, hand on the latch of the gate.

And then the weather changed.

Not gradually.
Not politely.
But with the sudden, theatrical violence only Dolmenwood’s winters could muster.

A cold wind knifed through the trees, scattering dead leaves like startled birds. The sky darkened in a single breath, clouds rolling in as if poured from a cauldron. A heartbeat later, the rain came — heavy, slanting, and merciless.

Sadie yelped in indignation, ears plastering back.
Anna gasped as the first icy drops soaked through her cloak.

Anna: “Alright! Inside, inside, inside!”

Sadie didn’t need telling twice. She bolted for the inn’s porch, paws skidding on the slick boards, shaking herself vigorously the moment she reached shelter. Anna followed, dripping and breathless.

Behind them, the lane vanished into a curtain of rain.

🏚️ Inside the House of the Harridwen Inn

Oracle: Is the inn busy? No Way!

Anna pushed open the heavy door. A bell chimed — a lonely, echoing sound that seemed surprised to be used.

The inn was quiet.
Too quiet.

A single fire crackled in the hearth, throwing long shadows across the taproom. The air smelled of damp wool, old wood, and something faintly herbal. No patrons filled the benches. No laughter. No clatter of mugs.

Just the innkeepers somewhere in the back…
…and one other presence.

At a corner table, perched on a high stool with her tail curled neatly around one boot, sat a Gimalkin. Her fur was a soft brindled violet, her cloak a patchwork of forest colours, her lute resting across her knees like a sleeping cat.

She looked up as the door opened, golden eyes gleaming with curiosity and amusement.

Jascqueline Tailwhisper, Bard of the Estray.

She flicked an ear.
She smiled — a slow, knowing curl of the whiskers.

Jascqueline:

“Well now. The woods send interesting company on nights like this.”

Sadie froze, staring.
Jascqueline winked.

to be continued.