She was alone in the ramshackle hut having a difficult birth, the last survivor of a caravan. Fortunately for her, the family of Brauniin heard her cries, and came to this woman in her hour of need. -- Anon Guest
The house barely had a roof left, more weeds and leaf litter than true thatch, nevertheless, it counted as a house. The Hidden Ones lingered there. A house wants its Faekindred. Brauniin or Nisse, some waited for the ruin to be a home again. Homes were where they did their best work.
There was no door. There were no windows. There was barely a hearth remaining in the ruin. Yet a stranger came to it in the midst of a wild storm. She used the door, more to keep her upright as she staggered to the vain shelter that the remains of the roof could provide. She was laboring, exhausted, and travelworn. Inches from her own demise.
If nobody acted, she could die. And yet... both Brauniin and Nisse prided themselves on remaining hidden. They had to make a choice.
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