L: What Ioana said was suspicious; so after she and Tanglepork fell asleep, I took a look 'round.
While setting off magic detection like a radar, Ling creeps through the house. She scrutinizes every trinket and trophy that crosses her sight. The house is too small to hide anything, but, alas, her search finds naught.
Stepping outside, the cold night air greets her bare head. It is an annoying reminder that she left it in the bedroom, too risky to fetch now.
Ling circles the cabin, checking the walls. However, the building is quite normal. While a part of Ling is relieved, another is frustrated. This dead end was a waste of the children's precious time.
Suddenly, the woods grew quiet. The wind stops, the bugs fall still. A presence, Ling feels; someone lurks amongst the trees.
"Yo," Ling calls out to the unknown. She quickly walks in its direction. "Wait, mate."
The presence does not wait.
When Ling reaches where she felt it, there is only a piece of parchment stuck to a tree. It says: Beware the Witches.
"What witches, mate?" asks Ling, "Gonna need a better b****y clue than that."
D: What are witches? J: It depends on the time. It was originally a political term used to oppress: an accusation of subservience to evil power. L: Then some claimed it as a rebellious term and some drongos thought 'evil power' sounded cool. A: And then evil powers thought more mortal servants sounded cool. J: Then other powers decided to do it too. L: So now it means a mortal who gets magic from some boss. J: Or feminist alchemists. A: Morality of any party involved: undefined. D: ...So, bad? L: Yes, this time bad.
Again, Ling could feel something deeper in the woods. She opens a door in space to its location.
The entity, a well-dressed, elvenoid over twice Ling's height with lanky limbs to match, stands hunched over affixing another paper to a tree. Its head twists around bearing Ling's own face.
"G'ev'ning," says Ling, "Nice to meet ya."