His months of isolation turned into years. He grew into a sleek, thin cat, and holed himself up where there were no people; if he caught sight of their footprints, heard their voices, he retreated further into the densely forested land. He never wanted to involve himself with them again.

He had an advantage to this that he had not had in his youth- he now knew how to tell which land was faybaned, and being a spirit himself, was unaffected by it. It suited him just fine that no living animals dare tread there except for the crows, reptiles, and insects. No people would come to cursed ground.

While living on it, he began to notice curious things, which he had not before.

Amongst the bogs, sickly evergreen forests and cold swamps, there lay ruined foundations; there were blackened logs in rings, and carved stones. Far, far away from where living men walked, through uncrossable mires and land so sick the air was poison, people had once lived.

Were these traces of Helna's people- the ones who had put both her and that Douglásc into the peat?

It was in one of these places that for the first time he met another animal spirit- and it tried to kill him.

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