What a wonderous new tone the swampland has, thought Melhved to herself. The more she traveled, the many different variations she found to the earth spirits' voice. Even the towns' had their own quieter melody. She wandered through each new place she visited listening for the discordent tone she had heard before her village had fallen. It rose and faded on different roads but had seemed to lead her here to Halmaren. She had wandered the streets and outskirts for several days now but could not get a clear direction. Perhaps it's time I spoke to a resident, she reluctantly decided. Other races did not intimidate her. All life was part of the Great Wheel. It was society, the unwritten rules, the formalities, that uneased her. She could brave any challenge of the natural world, but civilized world didn't play fair. She decided to approach the butcher. He had seemed an easy-going, jovial fellow who had smiled at her as she walked by yesterday. But as she went to approach him, a clarion call went up, and she found the town's people walking to the town center. Mel quickly changed her path and followed the crowd.