Exton

The Gallery has been closed for over an hour. Dinner was over, which Torrent had made while Tori made Grace sit down and relax. It had been a very strange day.

Thievery is not common in this part of town. Most of the shop keepers were not... normal. But they caught someone, not once, but twice.

The first was a necklace consigned to them by one of the college art students. It was a multicolored piece of abstract bits and black cording. Very pretty. The youth they caught was from the south side, and although the piece wasn't expensive, the kid didn't have enough money for it.

As much as Tori wanted to call the cops, Grace said no. She had grown up on the south side. You found beauty where you could, and all too often someone ruined it for you. Torrent took him to a backroom to talk to him. He came back later for cleaning supplies. At Tori's raised brow, Torrent merely smiled and said the boy was going to work off the necklace.

Two hours later, the back storeroom was spotless, even to Torrent's high standards. The Brownie gave the boy forty dollars. Then reinspected the items stored there. Not a thing was broken, and it was obvious that he had moved things to clean. Torrent handed the boy another ten. When they asked his name, the boy was hesitant. Torrent assured him they weren't calling the cops, they just wanted to know who to call if they needed help in the shop. Of course that was IF he was interested.

The kid left, necklace boxed and wrapped, money in his pocket, and the knowledge if he needed money, come ask for work. One crisis averted.

The second was not as easy. The forest glen picture had been on display on an easel right outside the door. Many people had stopped and admired it, bringing shoppers inside. The eclectic shop down the block had called, thanking them. They had sold mythical related items all day. Torrent had stepped inside to refill his tea when he heard Mr. Schumaker shout. The old man had his hands wrapped around the canvas frame, holding it on the frame. There was no wind, so he had to be fighting something cloaking its image. They watched in horror as a large tear formed across the oil painting.

The sound of laughter echoed and was quickly gone.

Torrent slid an arm around Grace, who stared at the canvas. Tori carried the piece inside and set it on an easel near the counter. Mr. Shumaker watched the door. Patrons tsked over the destruction, a few slipped outside to investigate.

When the Gallery finally closed for the day, no sign of the vandal had been found. There had been a lingering scent of overripe fruit in the area, but the organic store was just around the corner. Tori hugged Grace telling her that she was sooo sorry. Grace laughed, tears filling her eyes.

"At least it was the rough draft."

Torrent started to laugh at a Tori and Mr. Shumaker's horrified expressions. "The gift is in my apartment Tori. I didn't mean for you to find out this way. I painted that first, then redid it, improved it. After that came my 'Town' series."

The Brownie Lord took Mr. Shumaker on a tour of the paintings, pointing out the two of them playing checkers. The man leaned close looking at the interpretations. His gaze flew to Grace.

"Is that how she sees us?" At Torrent's nod Mr. Shumaker leans close. "She has the second sight, doesn't she? is that why...?"

Torrent nods again. "Gracie thought it was just fantasy until Tori walked in her shop and bought the Rockers. Now, I am trying to help her use her gift before it is too..." His words falter, eyes going distant. "late."

Now, dinner was over and Torrent was in a rush to get to the Tavern. Tori wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that Herne has come. Being a Dark Lord did not put him under the Hunter's call, but having a God in the Tavern was something Grace shouldn't miss. Neither told the woman, but she laughed and rushed through changing.

On the walk down the block, Torrent asks. "Do you mind if I take the ruined painting? I know, I know..." He holds his hand up to keep Grace from arguing. "I can't really fix it, but I would like it anyway."

Grace shrugs. "Might as well. I am not sure what to do with it otherwise."

They open the Tavern door and move inside. Jeb kisses Grace's cheek, well aware of the lessening of her scent. as if she is fading away.

They move further into the room, heading to the family table. A man at the Riders' table lifts his head, watching her.  His antlers sweep as he turns to speak to one of the Riders. Guunnaar laughs and strides over.

"Mistress Grace, vould du like to meet Herne? He vould very much like to meet du."

Her eyes fixed on the antlered man, Grace accepts Guunnar's hand and follows him to the table. She stops short, staring up and up, as the Herne rises. He bows, holding out his hand. She doesn't take it right away and Herne laughs.

"I will not harm you , Graclyn. Nor do I claim you for the Hunt. I actually wish to give you thanks. Come. I wish to show you something."

Grace takes his hand and hesitantly moves closer. With his other hand, Herne reaches inside his cloak and pulls out a small bag. He sets it on the table and begins to pull small items out, laying them gently on the table. A small cornsilk doll, sticks for antlers, sprawls next to an antler=hilted knife. Several small trinkets, necklaces, fashioned from things gathered in the woodlands. A rolled sheet of paper comes to his hand next and Herne offers it to Grace.

"The best of My offerings."

Tears begin to slip down her cheeks.She unrolls the paper, shaking her head. "I was just a little girl when I drew this... It disappeared."

"You placed it on your mother's altar when she left an Autumn offering. I took a little of each item, but this... This I kept in my pouch of treasures."

Herne takes her hand, lifting it to his hidden lips. "You have sketched me well Graclyn. At the time you truly believed."

He takes back the paper, rolling it carefully and tying it with a bit of ribbon. The objects are carefully handled, finding their places back in his pouch.

Grace's hand moves, barely brushing the cloak. "I... I never gave up believing. I..."

Herne leans forward, brushing his lips across her cheek. "No. You had to fit in. This world is difficult for one such as you. Do not give up dreaming, Grace. You have things to still see. I will come when it is time to take you home."

"How soon, My Lord?" Her eyes close. "I know Torrent has given me so much."

He nods his head to the Brownie, then shakes his head. "The time will come of its own. I cannot ask the Fates for a definite time. But you will be surrounded by friends, and I will be the one to bring you home. This I promise."

"Thank you , My Lord."

"Enjoy the night Graclyn. The days are numbered, take my advice and live each as if it is the last."

She nods slowly, watching over her shoulder as Guunnar leads her back to the family table. Torrent holds her chair as she drops shakily into it.

"I thought he was a legend... I gave up on faith when my mother died." Her head turns, looking back at the Riders. "You all talked of Herne's Riders. I knew them to be extraordinary men... but they really ARE..." She turns her eyes to Torrent. "That means..."

Tori laughs. "This isn't a dream, Grace. We are what you always thought."

The old woman's eyes shine. "I need to capture you all! Family Paintings!"

Her fingers fumble for a pen and Torrent pulls a sketch pad from his jacket. As soon as Grace has opened it to a clean page, the pen dances, creating Herne sitting at a round table, surrounded by his men. She blurs the likenesses deliberately and Torrent leans towards Tori, but speaks loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I started carrying a tablet everywhere. her fingers move to sketch when nothing is in them, so.... I figured her dreams should not be lost."

Grace looks up, laughing. She is soon turning a page, sketching Jeb at the door, Trooper now stretched out by his side. Monty and Ike, sharing a kiss across the bar is next.

Torrent mutters to the group. "She is in the... zoooone..."