Two days later, on a fine morning, Willfrith sits at the dining room table eating breakfast with his parents when a knock at the front door resonates through the house. Ferran slides his chair back as he gets up and answers the door, "Ah, troublemaker two has arrived". Willfrith with a piece of bread in his hand and a mouth full of porridge turns towards the door. "I'm no troublemaker Uncle Ferran'', she insists, passing two glass jars filled with jam to him. ''That so, kiddo. Ooh, what have we got here''. ''Yet it seems trouble, always, somehow, seems to find me''. Ferran grins playfully, glancing at his wife as he clutches the jars, using his foot to close the door. ''I wonder where he gets that from?''. The loud stabbing 'clink' of porcelain catches their attention. Willfrith's mother looking down at her plate, smiles gently as she cuts through a sausage. Sensing the impending danger, Ferran quickly changes the subject, ''So Bridget, you're here for troublemaker one right''. Bridget gives a bright scampy grin as she looks up at Ferran, curiosity brimming in her smiling eyes, ''So Aunty Neve was 'also' a troublemaker!''. Ferran quickly shoos Bridget along to the dining table while he sets the jars down. Neve swiftly steps next to him, leaning with her palms on the table. Smiling nervously, Ferran places the second jar down. ''A troublemaker was I?'', Neve asks sweetly. At a loss for words Ferran's eyes scramble until they land on a slice of toast, ''Just what the jam was missing, 'ahem', Darling, come, take a seat and I'll make you a nice cup of tea'', He gently guides his wife back to her chair then passes her a cup of steaming tea. As he is about to take his seat, Neve pulls out a rolled newspaper and presents it to him while she calmly sips her tea. After unrolling it, he is greeted by an advertisement for a new type of fabric that has just arrived in the neighbouring town. He looks up, pointing to the newspaper as he does, ''You want, this?''. Neve elegantly places her cup on its saucer, ''Yes 'Darling' ''.

Watching his parents bickering banter from the sidelines, Willfrith starts giggling to himself as he turns to  Bridget, ''Well, so much for not being a troublemaker. ...!''. Bridget turns to him after placing a glass of milk down. Her calm half-lidded eyes stare at him in wonder while a milk moustache paints her upper lip, ''What's so funny?''. Cracking into belly-aching laughter, Willfrith's eyes become tearful as he struggles to hold himself back. Bridget arches her brow when Willfrith holds out a glass shakily where she spots her reflection and hastily tries to lick it off but decides to just wipe it away with the back of her hand instead. She hides her flushed face in her palms, peeking at Willfrith through her fingers. After calming down a bit, he bites into a piece of buttered toast, washing it down with a glass of milk, revealing his own milk moustache while saying, "Yep, what a partner in crime''. Too immersed in their own conversation, Willfrith and Bridget overlook Ferran and Neve, who have been joyfully watching their playful banter for a while.

Neve starts clearing the breakfast table as Ferran puts on his boots, hopping up and down while pulling them onto his feet. The newspaper advertisement from earlier sticks out slightly from his pocket as he hops into the hallway, ''I'll be back before noon, darling'', He winks at the children and waves, ''See you later kiddos''. Both Bridget and Willfrith greet Ferran before leisurely continuing their chat at the table. ''So what's the plan for tonight's festival?'', Bridget's eyes widen as she stares blankly at Willfrith. ''What?! Is it that surprising that I still want to go?''. Bridget's eyes waver with concern, ''Uhm..., but, what about, you're injuries?''. Willfrith replies with a smug look of confidence, ''I don't know what kind of healing my body's been doing, but Mum's special tinctures and other remedies seem to have been working some kind of magic on me. Ha hah, I must be blessed by the gods. See'', He carefully lifts his shirt, moving his injured arm with the help of his other hand. Bridget quietly gasps while her arms stiffen and she curls her fingers tensley on her lap. Her eyes widen as she shyly turns her face to the side, then back to Willfrith when he calls out to her. Looking back, all of her tension vanishes as she scans Willfrith. His body is covered in multiple scabs that would eventually leave large scars once they'd fallen off. Her eyes trail from his scabs to the bandages wrapped around his shoulder and arm, ''Does it still hurt?'', she asks in a quiet tone. Willfrith studies Bridget for a moment, smiling at her tenderly as she observes his wounds. Quickly, he grins widely when she looks back at him, shaking his head from side to side then stops, knocking on his chest lightly with his fist, "I feel as solid as a rock". Bridget raises her knitted eyebrows with a small smile, a hint of concern still lingering behind her eyes. '' 'SIGH', Fine. Let's go to the festival''.

Later that evening, as the setting sun shone its last rays of light, the humble village of Greyroot came alight. The click-clacking of footsteps on the cobblestone paths, paired with the sounds of banter, merriment and music, compile itself into a symphony. While the smell of sizzling mutton, fresh pastries and the village's speciality, monkeyberry juice- all mouthwatering and tempting, urging your tastebuds to give them a go. Leaving Neve, Bridget and her parents for a moment, Willfrith and Ferran walk ahead as they spot the person they are looking for. A tall bulky man, wearing ceremonial skins, with his hair braided back. A small sharp bone sticks out from his earlobe and his beard is held in place neatly with a gold ring, standing next to his wagon filled with various other animal's skin and skulls. ''Greetings to you lads. Hmm?'', ''You too, Connor''. Spotting the large roll of deer skin held under Ferran's arm and its skull dangling in his grip, a gleeful smile spreads across his face. ''Mighty Fine catch that is Ferran'', ''Kekeke, Flattered as I am, but it's the boys'', He looks down to his side, gesturing with his chin. ''Aye, Seems you kept word then, Willfrith''. Willfrith puffs his chest out a little, shutting his eyes in agreement. With an air of determination, he replies, ''It would seem so''. Ferran hands over the hide, ''Let's have a look-see''. Rolling out the skin, Connor is speechless, taking a moment to appreciate its exquisite beauty. ''My, ho ho, a white spotted coal deer. A b-iiig fella he was''. Setting the hide aside, he then takes to inspecting the skull, propping it on his hand- twisting his wrist from side to side, as he inspects the delicate features of the ivory bone and its large antlers. ''Well, you might, actually, win this year lad''. Willfrith bats his eyes excitedly, glimmering with hope. ''Hehehe, That's the spirit lad, glad to see you coming along well''. After bidding their farewells, Ferran and Willfrith catch up to the others heading towards the village square.

Rushing up to Bridget, Willfrith playfully bumps his hip on hers then veers off to one of the stalls with a wide toothy grin, catching her off guard and knocking her slightly off balance. Bridget steadies herself, a look of annoyance and competitiveness sweeping over her as she rushes off to catch up to him.  ''You'll find us near the Tavern and Inn, by the Monkey berry stand", Neve shouts out to them from behind, ''Those kids'', Bridget's father sighs with a gentle smile. Arriving at the stand, Willfrith announces to the aged man behind the stall, ''Ready to cut your losses, Mr Russet''. His silver-red fox-fur hair and humble, tuft of beard dangle from his long freckled face as he knowingly crosses his arms, leaning across the stall front, peeking playfully through his monocle, ''I see the village's dual act has graced my humble stall. You won't shake me that easily though, Will my boy'', ''Oh yeah?! What sort of diabolical schemes have you cooked up this time?'', ''Nothing complicated, a simple game is all that I present''. Sceptical yet curious, Bridget interrupts, ''What sort of game?''. Mr Russet's ears perk back, a sly grin creeping up his face, ''A game of Thief and Bandit''. Bridget and Willfrith both look at each other and then back to Mr Russet, ''Thief and Bandit you say?'', Bridget reaffirms. ''Why Yes. Care to give it a go'', a short bow and three arrows are presented to them. ''Catch the thieves, a silver coin you'll win. Catch the bandit and a mystery will be your present''. Willfrith pulls his face sceptically, ''What sort of prize is that?!''. ''You'll just have to win to find that out, won't you now''. Both Willfrith and Mr Russet begin chuckling as they grin and stare each other down competitively. On the outskirts of their internal feud, Bridget face-palms herself at their ridiculous sights when suddenly, she is pulled forth by Willfrith. ''Hmph, sly old fox. W-eeelll thank the gods I happen to be tagging along with my secret weapon''. Bridget looks at Willfrith, puzzled, ''Since when was I your secret weapon?!'', ''Since always?'', his brows curl upwards with an unsure grin.

Mr Russet readies the game. He takes a few steps then crouches down and slides open a panel to a compartment - where a six-legged calico ferret is resting in one of the few wheels to be set in motion. ''Tsk, tsk tsk'', Mr Russet shakes his head then pulls out a biscuit from his pocket- hovering it above the creature's nose when it's jolted awake by the scent. ''Finally, you're awake Hypnos'', Mr Russet complains. Hypnos grabs the biscuit with his mouth and begins running in the wheel. Churning the rest of the gears, wheels and cogs to start rotating. A line of painted scenery and a handful of wooden figures start moving across the stage. Mr Russet then moves to the side where another contraption of his is connected to the stage. This time two pedals stick out from the bottom while a lever from the top. He takes a seat and then tips his head to Bridget. Willfrith gives a thumbs up from the side as Bridget takes a deep breath in. She takes the bow and readies the arrow, 'CLICK', a thief pops up from amongst the villager props. She fires. It misses by a hair. Willfrith anxiously hands her the next arrow. She pulls back, 'CLICK', another thief. Just as the arrow is about to strike the figure collapses back. ''Tsk, Dmmit!'', Frustrated, Bridget grabs the arrow from Willfrith's hand and blows a few stray hairs out of her sight. She pulls back, focussing on the moving pieces when she hears the next 'click'. A bandit! She fires the arrow, striking the bandit on its head. ''Bullseye!'', Willfrith shouts gleefully. Mr Russet gets off his seat, applauding Bridget's excellent shot, ''His 'secret weapon', indeed, my dear''. Smiling sheepishly Bridget responds, ''It would appear so''.

From the side, Mr Russet pulls over a crate and starts rummaging through it till he finds a smooth wood-carved pebble-shaped box with delicately detailed hinges and sets it in front of the two youngsters. Willfrith peers at the box, seemingly disappointed by this supposed 'mystery' while Bridget asks where he had found it. ''A reward from my adventuring days. Quite an unusual request it was, but it paid well''. He then proceeds to open the casing to reveal a rough flattened pearl being swallowed by a silver wolf's head. They all stare in tandem at its eerie beauty as the flame from the nearby lamps reflects off it. ''Ugh now I just got the chills'', Willfrith complains, rubbing his arm up and down. Almost mesmerized by it, Bridget continues gazing at it. Mr Russet glances knowingly at Bridget, the flames illuminating a hidden truth. ''It would seem that old fortune teller was right''. Willfrith flicks his head back to Mr Russet, ''What fortune teller?''. Bridget looks up, her intrigue overflowing. Mr Russet helps place the necklace on Bridget. Then all of a sudden, the pearl moon began to glimmer, ''Hehe, Care to hear another tale?!''.