The Black Wyrm of Brandonsford

Vivian is a small woman, with a kind face, discerning eyes, and a wild tangle of gray hair. She waves the party into her house as Gann heads to the back, searching for wood. He finds a neat pile and grabs an armful.

"Welcome, welcome," the woman says as four strangers and a wolfling come into her home. The hut is crowded, packed with all manner of projects the so-called-witch is working on. She's been embroidering, brewing, painting, sewing, curing, reading, pickling, baking, sketching... her pastimes, it seems, are many.

She claps thrice when Wren finishes her ditty, then goes to a shelf to collect earthenware mugs for the strong-smelling herbal tea that's boiling in a cauldron pot hanging over the fire. Ladling the liquid into the mugs, she presents steaming cups to everyone.

"So!" she says brightly, "you know my name and something about me, while I know but one of yours. So who is it that I've welcomed into my abode? Wren the river girl for true, but... I see a wayward Marchguard, a silent hunter who normally travels only with the furred companion who knows better than to pee in here, and this little unhappy beauty. My dear. Why so sullen?"