The duo took a moment to admire the tranquil pond. The sun and clouds reflect clearly on the slow water.
"So, that's a 'no' on the silver?" asks Loomy to the pond.
"Doesn't matter," says Bacon, "We should keep on."
So they do.
"No idea what you're talking about," says Bacon, glancing about the forest, "What kind of forest is this anyway?"
"Uh, cedar, i think," says Loomy, looking about for what prompted that question, "What about it?"
"It's nice, isn't it?" asks Bacon, face still hidden, "Trees are nice; I need to spend more time with them My favorite is cherry. What's yours?"
A: I'm fond of the candelabra spurge. D: Palm trees are cool, too.
"I don't.. have one...?" says Loomy, "Who does? How old are you?"
"Are you really asking me that question?" Bacon's voice strains against an unwanted emotion.
The bugs chirping and birds calling echoed over the silent valley between them. It would be another half hour before either would speak again. There were no encounters, no odd sights, nor clues of any kind.
"How far away does this woman live?" asks Bacon, "We have to be close, right?"
"Yeah, right over this next hill," says Loomy, "Wish she lived closer."
As the two top the hill, Bacon sees the old cabin. And if the old woman who lives here doesn't know anything, then this, the only remaining straw to grasp, is a dead end.
J: Mum, we know this woman did something. L: But ya don't know exactly what yet.
Loomy knocks on the door and something inside shuffles, muffled within.
As the door creaks open, an elderly voice beyond calls out, "Is that you, dear Luminița?" An eye peeks through the slowly widening gap. "You look like Loomy," says the old wolf, "But you don't smell like Loomy."
"Your granddaughter couldn't make it this week," says not-Loomy, "I can explain if you let us in."
"Ya must be Ioana," says the mysterious person formerly known as Bacon, "Nice to meet ya."
"Who are you? Where is she?" asks Ioana, words sliding toward a growl "Take off that disguise."