At the heart of the village, the paths converged into a broad clearing, where the tall monument needed to begin his trial could be seen.
An old man stood near the center with his hands tucked into the sleeves of a worn robe, posture bent. His beard was long and gray, and rather unkept. He looked up as the trio approached.
His expression soured immediately.
He squinted at Quinlan. Then, at Miri and Luminara clinging to him. Then back at Quinlan.
"…Laddy," he muttered, rubbing his temple with two fingers. "Aren't you a bit quick to return? Why not wait a couple of hundred years between each trial?"
The warmth on Quinlan's face vanished, replaced by a sharp grin that pulled at his lips, familiar and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with hostility and everything to do with recognition. "Malakar, you grumpy old bastard. It's good to see you too."
