The old withered hag rolled her few belongings into her worn leather pack. The previous night's dream had disturbed her so that she felt she must take her chances in the wild and warn those involved.
"Besides," she thought to herself and smiled, "t'would be good to see how th' las is getting on."
She hoisted the pack upon her bent back and walked out the door of her tiny shack. The crone trudged through the snow to the pen where she kept her pigs.
"Farewell boys, don't cry fer your ol' mama." she laughed. "I'll be back an' I'll bring ya a present too."
Then she waved her hand over the pen and with closed eyes mumbled a few incantations. The little woman took one last look at her home and then, with the forest to the east, headed south through the snow towards the coast and the city of Caladan.
