[The Gilded Green]

"Yeah. Silly," Adir rolls his eyes and hops in with his wife, followed after by Turro, who sees that Cessie isn't going to budge. She's a sorceress. You don't argue with those.

The two ladies and their three boyish charges swim downward. Finding it colder than the last portal, they'll feel gravity reorient as they begin to rise rather than push downward. Five splashes and soft exhalations later, they appear in a clear spring at the edge of a massive clearing, ringed with ancient pine trees that seem to rise up forever. In the center of the clearing - and indeed, claiming much of it's space - is an enormous lodge, a long rectangular building with a thatched roof pointing at the sky. Windows are small and few, as the place seems to have been damaged many times before. Fixed just as many, it looms with a calm, elder defiance, spewing smoke into the cool air. It's brighter browns and cozy exterior seem welcoming, a boon to travelers in the deeper woods. Humans and Fey alike are allowed here, provided they can make the trek.

It is notably colder here. The three Frescot brothers climb out've the water in a noisy rush, loincloths clinging to Tiro and Turro's shiny-wet behinds. Tiro's tail - a feature he seems to possess solely - wags excitedly. "We're back!" Cries Tiro, shouting through his hands. Turro waves his arm to the left. "Bring blankets, lads!"

All around the court-house, in the dying grass, amidst the slight bumps of tiny hills and beneath the shade of slanted boulders, there are Frescots. There are other peoples - little groups of humans, fair skinned and dressed in their leathers or wool, circled around campfires that burn bright where they lie. Far more numerous are the antlered men and the long-eared women with skin spotted white. They tan hides hung from ramshackle wooden racks, carve weapons or sharpen arrows, eat hot vegetable stew as they break from their tasks. They turn to look, as the humans do, but a couple dozen of them leave quickly, and a second wave walks behind, feeling no great hurry to push past their more rambunctious brothers or sisters.

While his brothers shout, Adir turns and offers a hand to each of his lady companions. In a tongue of their people, he speaks something rich and pleasant sounding. And with a grin, he repeats for Cessie, in the Common tongue, "Welcome to the house of my father." Though Sakura may have heard it as 'welcome back'. The stag seems so excited.

An array of bronze-brown faces press into a semi-circle, all eager for a glimpse of the pair. A few among them cry out greetings to Adir, at which he turns his head and looks, flashing them his trademark grin. It's met with bright smiles and a few whoops, along with a few more sarcastic boos from the same beaming faces. They're dressed much more modestly than Tiro and Turro - mostly colorful furs and woolen dresses stolen or bought from humans, among a few more elaborate suits of what looks like charred wooden armor. These guardians stand slightly back amidst the crowd, not speaking, antlers sprouting from behind curved, ominous masks.

The frontmost Frescots babble in their language, leaning in toward Cessie and Sakura, not quite encroaching on their personal space but definitely being nosy. Sakura will understand they ask questions about the swimsuits, spout greetings, while others just stare curiously at the dryad and the lady-wizard. Rarely do they see dryads, and rarer still a human so beautifully pale and with such flawlessly dark hair.

"Shuuuuut iiiiiit!" Turro draws out, his booming accented voice breaking above the crowd. "Our brother Adir sent word ahead, you all heard it. This is Missus Sakura and Missus Cessie, our lady-guests. While they're here, they're our sisters, so treat em' nice n' spare em' no botherances." Turro's grasp of the common language may lack, or he may simply make things up as he goes along. "Where're those blankets?!"

A few much smaller Frescots squeeze out've the crowd. Adir turns and stands between Sakura and Cessie, smiling, his eyes flitting back and forth between them constantly. The little fae children carry what look like the coziest, most comfortable linen blankets that a tailor's hands ever made. A freckle-faced boy, tiny antlers jutting from above his ears, a small white-speckled girl with wild hair and a little dark dress, six or seven more just as adorable, all between the ages of eight and twelve.

What comes next must have been practiced. The blankets are passed to Cessie and Sakura, little hands brushing theirs. In unison, the children bow deeply, hands stretched across their chests and gripping their shoulders. The same words Adir used - mostly fae, for they haven't yet been taught Common - tumble from their mouths beautifully. "Welcome, to the house of our father."

As though encouraged, the crowd beyond throws up their hands in unison and cries the same, cheering it, some clapping or laughing as they do so. A few of the men grip their shoulders and bow, following the children's suit, who are arranged in a crescent before them. Warmth and love pour out to envelop the weary travelers.