A familiar scent from my youth roused me, a scent that was both sickly sweet and also nauseating. A disgusting wetness reanimated me. I bolted upright, my eyes, opened and the hound stared at me with a grin. The warmth of the fireplace washed over me. The sounds of cracking logs enchanted me and in the corner sat in a chair whittled from oak sat the mad man who had almost killed me. He inhaled

deeply from his pipe and exhaled the sickly sweet, nauseating aroma and sighed with content.

"Devil grass?"

The man chuckled and slapped his knees with excitement.

"It's not been called that since I was a nipper. You aren't exactly what you seem are you?"

"The same can be said for you. After that dazzling display that nearly ended my life."

"It was dazzling wasn't it." He chuckled to himself and inhaled once more.

"I must admit for a moment back there, I did think you were in fact the hound transformed."

The madman chocked on the devil grass he had inhaled and burst out laughing, almost falling clean off the chair.

"The hound transformed. You hear that boy? Hound transformed. What a hoot."

The hound pined and laid down by the warmth of the fire.

"So, you're not some mad wizard?" I asked.

"Mad wizard." The frail man contemplated the question and chuckled once more.

"Let's say I've had my share of wizards and I don't trust them."

"Wise beyond your years."

I stared at him in silence.

"Oh... You mean that feat of magic outside? You think I'm a wizard?"

"The one and the same and yes what would you call it?"

"Well seen as I saved your life, I don't suppose the harm in telling you. After all, we're now destiny bound you and I, even if you happen to dislike wizards."

He paused, checked around the smoky, haze filled room, and whispered.

"I'm as much as a wizard as I am a, what did you call it, hound transformed."

Knowing he was a talker type, I remained silent.

"You see this great oak is so old that it has grown to abhor violence of all kinds, so when I drew your blood with a weapon fashioned from its roots, it, how do you say it..."

"had something to say about it?"

"Indeed. The lightning display was the oak tree unleashing its wrath on this world."

"And the strange guttural language, the stomping, and curses?"

"Theatrics, my dear boy. What people with limited imaginations perceive to be magic."

"And the hound?" I asked remembering how it had spoken in my mind as clear as the sun rises.

"Just a hound."

The hound whined in response.

"Okay, a magnificent hound, the best hound, my favourite."

"And this?" I asked raising my wrist to the light, the deep laceration had faded to a small barely visible scratch.

"Exactly it was barely a scratch, no need to think you were dying. No need at all."

We stared at each other in silence, my resentment clouded by gratitude and fuelled by distrust when the hound snorted and shook its fur.

"Oh. Yes. Introductions."

"I'm..." he paused. "Known in this neck of the world as Hermit."

"Alfred."

Hermit nodded.

"Elf friend, or Alfling?"

The term made me clench my fists. I unclenched them but it was too late. Hermit inhaled more devil weed and I suspected a grin as he turned to exhale smoke into the fire.

"Hermit isn't a name it's a profession, like woodsman or headsman."

"It is indeed, but as you can see, I don't have many seasons left, and I'd rather not dwell on the mistakes of yesterday."

"I was raised with the belief if you learned a wizards name, they would be bound to you in servitude."

Hermit nodded.

"It's funny the tales we tell, the yarns we spin for the young uns, I remember a tale about horrible creatures snatching children from their cribs and replacing them with copies made from earth. If you ask me, these tales we tell get stranger every passing season."

He said all this whilst watching me. Knowing full well that I had been abandoned in the forest by my parents for the same reason many years ago.

"Changelings."

"That's the one. The Poor bastards. Such short lives."

We sat in silence for a while, staring at the fire. Listening to the cackling of logs. I soul-searching, reliving the past, he avoiding it through copious amounts of devils weed. The hound yawned and watched the fire intently, slowly falling into a deep slumber, when I finally broke the silence.

"Where's the nearest town?"

"Nearest town?" Hermit almost chocked on the devil weed.

"Alfred? Did you fall from the sky? or are you a simpleton?"

I chuckled, remembering I had in fact fallen from the sky. The hound turned to stare at me and bared its teeth in a grin. Hermit gazed at the hound then at myself and he paled, it was only for a brief moment but I'm certain he and the hound can communicate with each other.

"The Rott dear boy, The Rott."

"The What?"

"No, the Rott."

"Is that supposed to make sense?"

"Have something to eat and then come with me. I have something to show you." The hound stretched and attempted to follow Hermit, but he turned on the spot and shook his head. "No, you stay, you've had more than enough adventures for one evening."

The hound growled and bared his canines in reply.

"Stay!"

The two locked eyes, and eventually the hound whimpered and knelt by the warmth of the fireplace and growled a low guttural growl of sadness. Feeling pity for the creature I decided to forgo eating and instead pocketed some bread and cheese and followed Hermit outside. Once again, I had my suspicions that Hermit was a wizard, as the hole in the trunk that was barely big enough for the hound to scurry under had now become a great oak door that was ajar. I chose not to comment on this, but Hermit teased me regardless.

"Beautiful craftsmanship, isn't she?" He asked stroking the wooden door.

I chose not to reply and instead set forth into the blinding haze of the midday sun.

"Is it wise to build a campfire inside an oak tree?"

Hermit paused as he shut the door behind us.

"You know, I've never really thought of it like that before. Hmm."

"Ah well, I'm sure Rabbit will be fine."

"Rabbit?"

"Oh, you didn't think I call him hound, did you?"

"But Rabbit?"

"I was cooking rabbit in a stew pot the first time he introduced himself."

"And you've been friends ever since?"

Hermit chuckled.

"Not quite, for a long time we were enemies. Rabbit, saw himself fit to knock over my stew pot and steal from me. This happened every time I tried to stew rabbit, until one day I said enough is enough and."

"Went on a quest for vengeance?" I asked, unable to hold my laughter in.

"No, I stopped stewing Rabbits." Hermit said as if the answer should have been obvious.

I waited, like I said, Hermit is a talker.

"I thought it'd be the end of it, but then he started howling outside and crying. And when that didn't work, Rabbit started to... Well bring me rabbits."

"Naturally."

"You see, he had grown accustomed to the taste of stewed rabbit, and missing the right biology himself, was unable to stew his own."

"So, I took pity on the poor wretch and stewed him a Rabbit. The rest they say is history."

"What a strange tale." I replied, even though I was smiling.

"No stranger than a tree that throws thunderbolts."

I was about to make a comment about that when Hermit tensed and held me back with his hand.

"This should be close enough."

Hermit crouched, I followed suit, he then pointed through the deep thicket that shielded us and whispered.

"Have your fill, remember to be silent. And most importantly do not be seen, Unlike Rabbit, I have no qualms about leaving you to your fate."

"So, you're finally being honest with me?"

Hermit smiled and patted me on the back. Then sat down with his back to me and started to fill his pipe.