Grimalkin dropped from the table, landing on the wooden floor with a thump. "When you go to meet the prince, leave the dishes as they are," he said, arching his tail over his back. "If you wash them, the brownies will be insulted and might leave the cabin, and that would be terribly inconvenient." Grimalkin yawned. "That was purely for the fun of it." And he trotted from the room.

She chuckles, watching him go. She eats before walking to where Ash wanted to meet her.

In the center of the clearing, a dark silhouette danced and spun in the mist, his long coat billowing out behind him, an icy sword cutting through the fog like paper.

She stands silent, watching him.

Ash finished the drill and with a final flourish, slammed the blade into its sheath. For a moment, he stood motionless, breathing deeply, the mist curling around him. "How was your breakfast?" he asked without turning around.

"Good."

He turned, raking a hand through his bangs, shoving them out of his eyes. "I went back to Leanansidhes last night," he said, walking forward. "I wanted to get something for you, so I had one of her contacts track one down for me."

"And what might that be?" She asks, leaning against a tree.

Ash strode to a nearby rock, swooped down, and tossed her a long, slightly curved stick.

She looks down at it, examining the stick.