Piskies kept to ancient traditions, continuing to live rough in the wilds long after the elves and gnomes and the other Fae had built magnificent cities. This piskie was as feral and youthfully beautiful as any he had ever seen. Her skin was pleasantly darkened by the sun, unclothed save for the intricate blue markings painted in sparing patterns across one shoulder and thigh. Her hair was a tangled pile of deep chestnut, festooned with braids, beads, bones and feathers. Her entire body screamed blissful abandon and Deglan found his loins stirring, unbidden and unwanted. Thankfully he knew a tea that would solve the problem and made a point to remember to brew some when he returned home.

“What’s in the skin?” she asked without taking her attention from the toad.

“Root whisky,” Deglan said and held the skin towards her. Even half full the skin outweighed the piskie, so she tilted her head back and opened her mouth while Deglan poured a thin stream from the spout. She made a face as the whisky went down and shook her head with a hard sniff.

“Potent.”

“Brewed it myself.” Deglan took a long pull. “Jileen’s ale not enough for you?”

“It was fine,” she replied. “Clurichaun knows his craft.”

“Who, Two Keg?” Deglan could not help but laugh. “Old bugger’s been drunk for a decade or more. Thought he would keel over and die the day that alehouse was built. Now he was sick of root whisky. Comes up sober once in a harvest moon to lay fresh charms on the ale and then dives right back down again. But, yes…the results are impressive.”

“Doesn’t seem to have addled his wits any,” she said and Deglan saw the bait.

“Name’s Deglan Loamtoes,” he dodged. “Master herbalist.”

“Rosheen,” the piskie winked at him. “Unwanted stranger.”

“Do you always eavesdrop on folks at night, Rosheen?”

“Only on gnomes who talk to themselves. Likely to hear something interesting that way.”

“Well, not from this gnome.” Deglan stood up and stretched, walked a few stiff paces away from the piskie. She was entirely too close.

“So, you stayed behind?” he heard her ask behind him.

“Pardon?” he turned back.

“When the gnomes left, you stayed?”

Deglan gave a self-mocking bow. “I did. My kin up and packed off for Toad Holm and I remained. Me and the fomori.” And Two Keg, Deglan thought, but he was wary to bring the clurichaun back into the conversation. “And what of you? Why are you here, Child of Summer? To converse with a dwarf and that ill-favored looking mortal youth?” He wanted to turn the talk away from himself and quickly.