*temp wicklowfeel "blank"
*temp claudiamother false
*temp cormacangry false
*temp groupfeel "blank"
*temp beastlonely false
*temp modest false
*text_image chap_1.png center Chapter One: Fado 

I do not seek what is mine: it is not my own grace, but God who put this concern in my heart that I would be one of the hunters whom God at one time foretold would be here in the final days.

—Palladius Patricius

*page_break
The moment you set foot on the trail up to the O'Donnell place, you know that you are being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck rise up and you feel a chill of fear. 

Living in the city, it's easy to forget what night out here in rural Ireland is like. A full moon glows in the cold, clear sky, turning the frosty trees around you to pure silver while the shadows beyond the path are impossibly deep, a great ocean of darkness all around you. And a predator moves unseen through that ocean, stalking you. Staring into the shadows, you think you see a larger shadow moving in parallel with you—or is it just a deer, picking its way through the woods?
*fake_choice
	#I act as though nothing is wrong and continue at my regular pace, but keep trying to catch sight of the shadow.
		*set cautious %+ 10
		Keeping your expression and gait unchanged, you continue up the path, but every now and then you glance out into the woods. You never catch sight of the shadow again.
	#I shout out a challenge into the woods.
		*set cautious %- 10
		"Hey! Come out!"

		The woods echo back your words but nothing stirs. You feel a sudden, irrational sense that you are being toyed with, that somewhere malicious, mocking yellow eyes are fixed on you.
		*fake_choice
			#"Fuck you then." I flick the V sign at the darkness beyond the path.
				*set aggressive %+ 10
			#"All right then." I move on again, trying to regain my composure.
				*set aggressive %- 10
			#I laugh bitterly. Of course the Beast won't come when I call. It never did.
				*set wry + 10
	#I stand as still as I can and look around me, trying to make out the shadow.
		*set hedonist %- 10 
		You stand very still for a long time, in the shadow of a great, weathered sycamore. You can hear and see the nocturnal life of the woods all around you—the flutter of bat wings, the rustle of leaves, the padding of small shy creatures in the undergrowth. But you do not again detect the presence of the figure that seemed to be stalking you. At last, the cold forces you to move on.
*page_break
Perhaps it was all just imagination. Perhaps. And who could blame you for seeing things? It's been eight years since you last set foot in these hills. This place—these woods, the farm beyond them, and the great sweep of the Wicklow Mountains beyond that—was once a haven for you, a place of enchantment, of escape. Then, on a hot Midsummer's Eve, you came face to face with true horror, a horror that has scarred your memory and haunted your days and nights ever since. You saw the Beast of Glenkildove that day.

Unable to face the memories, you never returned to Wicklow. And you might never have returned at all if it hadn't been for a call you got this morning. The voice at the other end of the line was that of Cormac O'Donnell, who disappeared on the day you saw the Beast and hadn't been seen since.

He was rambling, incoherent, near-crying.

"Jesus…Jesus," he kept saying, then started repeating your name instead like a mantra.
*fake_choice
	#I tried to get through to him by talking about old times, telling him how much everyone had missed him.
		*set idealist %+ 10
	#I tried to calm him down by asking him clear, factual questions, speaking steadily and regularly.
		*set aggressive %- 10
	#I demanded to know where he'd been and why the hell he'd let everyone think he was dead.
		*set aggressive %+ 10
	#I listened, saying very little and trying to understand.
		*set hedonist %- 10
	#Wary, I asked him to prove that he was the real Cormac. What if this was a scam or some cruel joke?
		*set cautious %+ 10

Perhaps something you said sparked something in Cormac because he began to speak somewhat more lucidly.

"I'm at my da's old place in Wicklow…please come. Please come. I need you. I need to see you. The Beast is back."

Suddenly he laughed, an ugly strangled sound.

"Or maybe it never went away. Oh Jesus. The Beast is coming for me. It's coming for me. Promise me you'll come. [i]Promise me![/i]"

And the line went dead. And you were on a flight to Dublin that evening. You took the last bus from the airport up into the mountains. It deposited you at the crossroads by the Marian shrine outside Ballyavon, a mile from the O'Donnell place. You've walked the rest of the way through the cold Irish night. What has brought you back here, a place to which you once swore you would never return?
*fake_choice
	#My friend needs me. That's all the reason I need.
		*set idealist %+ 10
	#I have to know the truth about what happened the day that Cormac disappeared. Perhaps then I'll finally be able to sleep at night.
		*set cautious %+ 10
	#If the Beast is coming for Cormac, it may come for me and the others next. I'm tired of running. I want to fight.
		*set aggressive %+ 10

You've reached the top of the trail now, and the whitewashed, grime-streaked buildings of O'Donnell's farm stand before you, glowing faintly in the moonlight. Nettles and brambles have taken over the farmyard, fighting moss for possession of a skeletal, rust-ruined old tractor squatting in the barn. Half the windows in the farmhouse have been shattered, and graffiti has been daubed all over the walls—[i]Tiocfaidh ár lá,[/i] [i]Beast,[/i] [i]Murdering cunts[/i]. Judging by the blackened section at the far end, an unsuccessful attempt was made to set fire to the house.

Crossing the yard, you make your way into the farmhouse. The kitchen is a shambles, strewn with rubbish. The shelves that once lined the walls have long since been broken up and used for firewood. The big honey-colored table is still there, but now it is scarred by knife marks and burns. Terry's old shotgun lies discarded amid the rubbish on the floor by the fireplace.

This was where it all began. 
*page_break Ten Years Ago 
*image maire.jpg center [Maire]
You are sixteen years old. You are making your way up the hillside path, following behind your Aunt Maire and her black-and-white sheepdog, Misty. The leaves of the trees glow green in the light of the mellow, golden summer sunshine.

"They've got a bit of a reputation, the Red O'Donnells," Maire comments. She is a spare, sharp-featured woman with metal-rimmed glasses and graying dark hair cut short. She strides along, speaking without looking back, forcing you and Misty to scramble to keep up. "But Terry's all right and he's got a boy about your age, Cormac, and he's a good lad. Terry's had to look after him all alone ever since his wife died, and he hasn't done a bad job, under the circumstances. Anyway, Aunty has things to do today so Aunty is abandoning you. I'm sure you'll become fast friends with Cormac and have a splendid time. And if you don't, it'll be good fodder for the misery memoir that will make you millions twenty years from now."
*fake_choice
	#"I think I'll call it [i]Get Me Out Of Here: A Summer in Ireland[/i]."
		*set wry %+ 10
		*set maire %+ 10
		Maire snorts with amusement.
	#"What do you mean, a 'reputation'? What kind of reputation do the O'Donnells have?"
		*set cautious %+ 10
		Maire halts abruptly and turns to look at you, peering over her glasses.

		"People like to talk. Especially around these parts. But it's best not to ask too many questions about Orla O'Donnell and her family. I leave them be, they leave me be."
	#"I'm sure I'll be fine, Aunt Maire."
		*set aggressive %- 10
		"I'm sure you will too, my little one."
	#I don't respond, focusing instead on the path ahead.
		*set wry %- 10

You only arrived in Ireland from London a couple of days ago, picked up from the airport by Aunt Maire in her battered, mud-spattered Jeep. The two of you are still getting used to each other's company and trying to decide if you like one another. Maire lives alone, running the Wolf's Head, her rambling country inn in the hills above Ballyavon. You suspect that she's not used to any company, let alone that of a teenager. Her manner towards you veers between treating you as though you were three and as though you were thirty.

You've never met Aunt Maire before, your father's older sister. Your father has rarely even mentioned her before now. You've never even been to Ireland before. Although your father is Irish, he emigrated to London when he was young. And Irish heritage was nothing unusual at the Catholic school you attended there, St. Jerome's. You were better known… 
*fake_choice
	#…as a wheeler-dealer, a budding entrepreneur.
		*set school "spiv"
		*set manipulation +1
		*set wits +1
		*set persuasion +1
		*set streetwise +1
		Since you were just a child, swapping toys and trading cards, you've been a hustler with a gift for fast talk. You pride yourself on your ability to negotiate and strike bargains. Your peers rely on you to get them things, whether it's pirated music; early copies of exams; or marijuana, beer, and cigarettes. You know that everybody wants [i]something,[/i] and you have a knack for finding out just what it is that somebody wants, and providing it for them.
	#…as an exceptional student.
		*set school "straighta"
		*set intelligence +1
		*set resolve +1
		*set leadership +1
		*set academics +1
		You've always applied yourself in the classroom. Your marks in every subject are outstanding. Recognizing your ability, other students are used to relying on you as a tutor, and you have become accustomed to acting as an unofficial teacher's assistant in many classes. 
	#…for your promising football skills.
		*set school "footballer"
		*set stamina +1
		*set dexterity +1
		*set athletics +1
		*set awareness +1
		Like most British schools, St. Jerome's is football-crazy. You discovered early on a talent for football: you have the speed, the coordination, and the tactical [i]nous[/i] to make a first-class striker, and you're one of the best players on the school team.
	#…for your love of theatre.
		*set school "theatrekid"
		*set charisma +1
		*set composure +1
		*set insight +1
		*set persuasion +1
		Since you were a kid, you've loved to perform: dancing, doing impressions, and putting on a show. You're one of the key members of St. Jerome's theatre clique, playing a role in every year's production. You have a gift for playing a role, one that is derived from a solid grasp of the psychology of the individual.
	#…for your skill with computers.
		*set school "hacker"
		*set intelligence +1
		*set wits +1
		*set awareness +1
		*set technology +1
		You've been in love with computers ever since you were first allowed into the St. Jerome's computer lab. There is a magic to the language of coding, a harmony and logic that transcends the infuriating ambiguities and errors of human communication. You have a gift for computers and the world of the Internet. Here in Wicklow, where reception is patchy and Wi-Fi mostly an unheard-of luxury, you can't help but feel diminished, your fingertips itching for the feel of tapping keys underneath them. 
	#…for your devotion to boxing.
		*set school "boxer"
		*set strength +1
		*set stamina +1
		*set melee +1
		*set intimidation +1
		You've loved boxing ever since you were first introduced to the sport as a child. There is an exhilarating purity to the contest, win or lose, and a grace and precision to each fight. Your workout schedule every morning is unforgiving, and it's left your body stripped of most fat and laden with muscle. Even as a teenager, you cut an intimidating figure.
But Mum got sick, really sick, and your life changed. It was decided that it would be best for you to spend the summer in Ireland. You've gone from London streets, London noise, and the London crowds to these still, cool green woods and lonely hills. How do you feel, waking up every morning in your room below the eaves at the Wolf's Head?
*fake_choice
	#I feel good. These surroundings are so peaceful and serene that I can feel the tension and worry of those last weeks in London draining away.
		*set aggressive %- 10
		*set wicklowfeel "happy"
	#I feel restless. I want to explore these woods and climb these mountains but I'm not sure where to begin.
		*set cautious %- 10
		*set wicklowfeel "restless"
	#I feel lonely. I've yet to meet anyone my own age here; the only people besides Maire are the handful of old people who regularly drink at the Wolf's Head of an evening.
		*set aggressive %- 10
		*set wicklowfeel "lonely"
	#I feel bored. I miss the energy and excitement of London.
		*set hedonist %+ 10
		*set wicklowfeel "bored"

You arrive behind Maire and Misty at the O'Donnell farm. Whitewashed stone sheds and a metal barn enclose the farmyard. Chickens peck in a coop at one corner of the yard, while a one-eyed tabby cat sleeps in the sun on a low, lichen-stained wall. The cat is apparently well-known to Misty, who pays it no heed. A tall, barrel-chested man with a thick red beard, evidently Terry O'Donnell, emerges from the barn and waves to you. Misty runs up to him and he scratches her behind the ears.

"Maire Groghan!"

"The very same," returns Maire. "I come bearing relatives. This is my brother in London's…."
*fake_choice
	#…girl."
		*set gender "female"
		*set manwoman "woman"
		*set heshe "she"
		*set himher "her"
		*set hisher "her"
		*set mrmiss "Ms."
		*set guygirl "girl"
		*set boygirl "girl"
		*set isare "is"
		*set waswere "was"
		*set sondaughter "daughter"
		*set fellowlady "young lady"
		*set ladlass "lass"
		*set cityboygirl "girl"
		*set hashave "has"
		*set looklooks "looks"
	#…boy."
		*set gender "male"
		*set manwoman "man"
		*set heshe "he"
		*set himher "him"
		*set hisher "his"
		*set mrmiss "Mr." 
		*set guygirl "guy"
		*set boygirl "boy"
		*set isare "is"
		*set waswere "was"
		*set sondaughter "son"
		*set fellowlady "fellow"
		*set ladlass "lad"
		*set cityboygirl "boy"
		*set hashave "has"
		*set looklooks "looks"
	#…kid."
		*set gender "person"
		*set manwoman "person"
		*set heshe "they"
		*set himher "them"
		*set hisher "their"
		*set mrmiss "Mx."
		*set guygirl "person"
		*set boygirl "one"
		*set isare "are"
		*set waswere "were"
		*set sondaughter "child"
		*set fellowlady "young friend"
		*set ladlass "one"
		*set cityboygirl "kid"
		*set hashave "have"
		*set looklooks "look"

"All right there?" Terry says to you, apparently not expecting a reply. Maire continues.

"$!{hisher} name is…."
*fake_choice
	*if (gender = "male") 
		#"…Sean."
			*set name "Sean"
	*if (gender = "male") 
		#"…Liam."
			*set name "Liam"
	*if (gender = "male") 
		#"…Michael."
			*set name "Michael"
	*if (gender = "female") 
		#"…Nóirín."
			*set name "Nóirín"
	*if (gender = "female") 
		#"…Deirdre."
			*set name "Deirdre"
	*if (gender = "female") 
		#"…Ailis."
			*set name "Ailis"
	*if (gender = "person") 
		#"…Alex."
			*set name "Alex"
	*if (gender = "person") 
		#"…Dáire."
			*set name "Dáire"
	*if (gender = "person") 
		#"…Cael."
			*set name "Cael"
	#Something else.
		*input_text name

"I have some errands to run and I was hoping to leave ${himher} with Cormac for the day."

"Why not? The Fox kids are coming over and they're picking up the other two by the village. They're all going to Glenkildove. It'd be good for us to have another Catholic handy in case those feckin' Prods try something." He winks at you. "Cormac's over there, by the pump. Go and say hello." 

*if wicklowfeel = "restless"
	"That's good," Maire comments, looking at you. "You've been itching to do a bit of exploration, haven't you?"
*if wicklowfeel = "lonely"
	"That's good," Maire comments. "I think you've been dying for some company your own age, haven't you?"

*page_break
*image cormac.jpg center [Cormac]
You find Cormac splashing water over his face and hair by the pump—a boy with his father's height and striking dark red hair, but lean where Terry is paunchy. As he turns, you find yourself looking into very brilliant green eyes, all the brighter in his pale, slightly freckled face. He has evidently overheard Maire's introduction.

"So you're English, are you?" he asks you, his expression ambiguous.
*fake_choice
	#"Yes. Although my father is Irish."
		*set wry %- 10
		"London Irish, is that it? Well, if it's good enough for the Pogues, it's good enough for me."
	#"Is that going to be a problem?" I square up to him, looking him in the eye defiantly.
		*set aggressive %+ 10
		*set cormac %+ 10
		*if school = "boxer"
			You instinctively adopt a boxer's stance, equally ready to either throw or dodge a blow.

		He grins at you. 

		"Nah, you're grand. I like someone who can stand up for themselves."
	#"Fuck no. I'm a Londoner. I'm not [i]English[/i]."
		*set wry %+ 10
		He barks a not unfriendly laugh.

		"Right. Like how Dubs are Dubs, not culchies like the rest of us. Welcome to the provinces. You're a long way from London now."

Cormac plasters down his wet, short-cropped hair.

"Anyway," he continues. "I was only messing. London sounds deadly. My cousin Oisín is a builder there. I'm going to live there someday, shake the dust of this place off my feet."
*fake_choice
	#I am a little skeptical. "Really? What are you going to do there?"
		For the first time, there is a flicker of vulnerability in Cormac's eye. He looks at you sharply, as though to trying to figure out whether you are laughing at him.

		"Maybe I'd work in construction at the start, like Oisín," he says. "But that would just be the start."
	#"Maybe you can look me up when you get there."
		"Yeah," agrees Cormac. "That'd be fun."
	#"Why are you so keen to leave Ballyavon? It doesn't seem so bad to me."
		Cormac grimaces.

		"You've been here just a couple of days. Trust me, the charm wears off quickly. Especially if you're an O'Donnell."

		He doesn't expand on this, and something in his expression suggests you not ask.
	#"It's a good idea. There's always something going on in London."
		*if wicklowfeel = "bored"
			You speak wistfully. You miss the excitement of the city, stuck here in the hills.

		Cormac grins.

		"That's what Oisín says!"

Cormac leads you across to the barn. Within, there is a mountain of haybales. He shows you how to climb up the swaying, yielding bales to sit at the top, with a bird's eye view of the farmyard outside. The tabby cat, who is introduced to you as Pirate Jenny, climbs up behind you and makes friendly overtures, rubbing her head against your heel.
*fake_choice
	#I scratch her behind the ears.
		Pirate Jenny purrs contentedly, rubbing her head back and forth under your fingertips.
	#I sit down and let her on top my lap.
		Pirate Jenny is soon purring drowsily on your lap.
	#I push her away with my foot.
		Pirate Jenny is persistent, and it takes several increasingly forceful nudges to convince her that you really do not want to be her friend.	

Cormac, looking on, shakes his head ruefully. "She won't come anywhere near me. Scratches like mad if I try to pick her up."

Cormac talks about his plans for the future. He plays the fiddle and sings, traditional folk music. He wants to start a band and travel the world.

"London, Paris, New York, even Tokyo maybe. I've heard there are Irish pubs in Tokyo. They must need people to play in them. That'd be mad, me playing Irish music in Japan someday."

His green eyes are shining now. He doesn't look as much older than you as he did before.
*fake_choice
	#I am enthusiastic about Cormac's ideas and join him in building castles in the air.
		*set cormac %+ 20
		Lying on the scratchy yet strangely comfortable hay bales, staring out at the sunlit farmyard, the two of you start speculating about what other countries might have Irish pubs for Cormac to play in.

		"Tibet?"

		"Yeah, sure, why not. I bet they have one like halfway up a mountain in the snow, and you have to ride a yak to get there…"

		"Egypt?"

		"Ah yeah, for sure. All that sand, you'd need a Guinness now and then, wouldn't you?"

		"Australia?"

		"You must be joking. The whole fuckin' continent was like a prison for Irish people back in history, it's probably nothing but wall-to-wall Irish pubs by now."

		He laughs. You can tell that he is enjoying your company, although there is still a prickly wariness to him. Perhaps he feels that he needs to joke about his travel plans to preempt mockery.

		The conversation is interrupted by a cry from below.
	#I listen but am noncommittal.
		As though trying to convince himself as much as you, Cormac starts talking more seriously about what it would involve.

		"I'll start off busking," he says. "Oisín says there are loads of buskers in London, but you can make fairly good money if you've got the right spot. I'll get a job in an Irish pub, maybe start playing there in the evenings."

		He glances at you every now and then, as though hoping for your approval and yet too proud to admit to it. You sense that Cormac, despite himself, is impressed by you, a real Londoner.
		*if school = "spiv"
			A few casual comments reveal your familiarity with the city's music scene: your extracurricular activities have often brought you to live music venues across London, where scalpers work their trade. 

		"London…" he says. "It feels like that whole city's a big fucking party and everybody but me is invited."

		His thoughts are interrupted by a cry from below.
	#I ridicule Cormac's ideas.
		*set cormac %- 20
		*set cormacangry true
		You roll your eyes, pointing out how difficult it is to make money from music, particularly traditional Irish music. You've clearly touched a nerve. Cormac angrily pushes back.

		"What would you even know about it?" he asks, eyes blazing and face even whiter than usual with rage. He sits bolt upright. "You don't know anything about it."

		The rising tension is broken by a cry from below.
*page_break
*image simon.jpg center [Simon]
"Cormac!"

A boy of your age is standing below the piled-up bales of hay. He has dark brown hair, blue-gray eyes, and a slight, lean build.

"Foxy!" Cormac says. He scrambles down the hay bales. "This is ${name}."

*if cormac > 50
	He glances back at you.

	"$!{heshe} ${isare} dead sound," he adds.

*if cormac < 50
	Cormac bites his lip, but appears to have calmed down, and does not refer to the argument the two of you were just about to have.

"Nice to meet you," the boy says. "I'm Simon. And my little sister will be joining us as well. Claudia!"
*page_break 
*image claudia_teen.jpg center [Claudia]
Simon calls across the yard and a girl, perhaps a year or so younger, emerges from the farmhouse. She runs to join you. She has the same short hair, eyes, and build as her older brother.

"This is Claudia."

"Everybody calls me 'The Claw,'" Claudia puts in. 

"Nobody calls you 'The Claw.'"
*page_break
The two siblings' surname is Fox, hence Cormac's nickname for Simon. They're Protestant, a fact that is mentioned more than once as you cross the yard. You are headed for a place called Glenkildove, in the valley beyond yours, but first you are going to collect two more of Cormac's friends. 

Simon seems gentle and bookish, peering at the world over his glasses in benign, tolerant confusion, as though he were sixty rather than sixteen. His sister, Claudia, is a barely contained dynamo of energy and action. She can't even stand still for very long, constantly hopping from one foot to the other. She immediately launches into a series of questions about you, and London, and why you're here, and what you like.

"I'm so sorry," Simon says. "Claudia has heard about personal boundaries. She's decided against them."

"The Claw will have no truck with such things."
*fake_choice
	#I answer her questions as best I can, being direct and honest about my mother's illness.
		*set claudia %+ 20
		*set claudiamother true
		Simon and Cormac look surprised at your indulgence of her questions, but Claudia clearly appreciates it. In fact, she is a surprisingly good listener once it becomes clear that you are prepared to take her questions seriously. Instead of constantly prodding for an answer, she gives you the space to find your words, just nodding sympathetically as you describe what had become of things in London. Cormac and Simon move ahead, engaged in a conversation of their own. When you are finished, she pats your shoulder.

		"I'm really sorry about your mother," she says. 
	#I tease her by inventing an elaborate series of lies accounting for my presence in Ballyavon.
		*set claudia %- 10
		Claudia's eyes widen in awe as you weave a complex tale of international intrigue, car chases, criminal conspiracy, and evil twins.

		"London was too hot to hold me," you conclude, "so I came over to hide out here in Ireland for a while."

		She gasps in awe until her brother, who has been listening in silent amusement, is no longer able to contain his giggles. When she realizes that you have been teasing her, she hits your shoulder in frustration.

		"That's not fair!" 
	#I answer her general questions but politely decline to go into personal matters, explaining that it's not something I want to get into just now.
		Claudia sighs loudly.

		"Nobody ever wants to tell me anything."
	#I ignore her persistent questions, making no effort to disguise how irritating I find her.
		*set claudia %- 20
		Claudia scowls at your brush-off and stalks on ahead, stiff-backed as the cat Pirate Jenny, leaving you to walk with Cormac and Simon.
*page_break
*image kitty.jpg center [Kitty]
Making your way back down the track, the four of you head out to the main road. Walking along the grassy bank, you come to the crossroads that marks the outskirts of Ballyavon, the local village. There is a shrine here; a white plaster Virgin Mary in a carved niche in the rock looks out benignly. In its shadow, Cormac's other friends, a boy and a girl of your age, wait for you. It is the girl who speaks first. She has shoulder-length dark hair, neatly held away from her face with a butterfly bow and a shy yet eager smile of her own. She is wearing a heavy backpack. 

"There you are!" she says. "You must be ${name}. Welcome to Ireland! I'm Kitty, Kitty Cullen. My name sounds a little bit like I should be dating Spider-Man."

"What's in the bag, Kitty?" asks Cormac. Businesslike, Kitty counts its contents off on her fingers.

"Sunscreen. My water bottle. A waterproof mac in case it rains. Sandwiches. Apples. Bags of crisps and chocolate bars. A first aid kit. A map and a compass. A multi-tool. Oh, and some insect repellent. Sure the midges'll eat you alive up there!"
*page_break
*image daniel.jpg center [Daniel]
Daniel, dark with classically handsome features and a cocky class-clown grin, rolls his eyes at Kitty affectionately.
*fake_choice
	#"It sounds like you forgot the kitchen sink."
		*set daniel %+ 20
		Daniel laughs.

		"$!{heshe} got you there, Kitty."

		He smiles at you. "She means well."
	#"Thank you for bringing all of this stuff, Kitty. It's good to know we have it."
		*set kitty %+ 20
		Kitty beams at you.

		"Ah, stop!" she says, blushing. "It's best to be prepared, that's what my ma always said."
	#"Wait a second. Just how far away is Glenkildove?"
		"Not as far as Kitty's making it seem," Cormac says.

		"It's still a fair old hike," Simon adds. "You walk everywhere, Cormac; you're no judge of distances for other people." He turns to you. "It's about six miles. And we have to climb a mountain."
*page_break
The group is now assembled. It seems that Glenkildove is a remote glen on the far side of the mountain. You'll need to climb up the mountain and over its shoulder, and then pick your way down into the narrow valley along a steep, precipitous path.

"It's hard to get to," Simon says, as the six of you leave the main road once again and begin climbing up a trail that leads upslope through the woods. "But that's part of what makes it special. The last wolf in Ireland was killed in Glenkildove. [i]Fadó fadó,[/i] as the storytellers say. A long, long time ago."

Simon goes on to describe the history of the glen. It seems to have been a sacred place even in neolithic times; there's a circle of standing stones in the western part of the valley. When Christianity came to Ireland, monks began looking for places far from civilization in which they could meditate and pray undisturbed. One group, led by a monk named Enda, left their old monastery in Clonmacnoise after a row with the abbot there. They traveled east, found their way up to the hidden glen here, and built a settlement by the lake at its heart.

"They called the lake the Devil's Cauldron and the valley itself the Glen of the Black Wood," Simon says. "They thought that all the glen was haunted by the numina, the spirits of the earth that the old Irish had worshipped there."
*fake_choice
	#"Strange place to build a monastery."
		"Maybe they wanted to test their faith against the Devil."

		"Or take it back from him," Kitty puts in. Simon nods.

		"That's why St. Anthony went into the Egyptian desert. To claim it for God from the devils who lived there."

		*if school = "straighta"
			*set simon %+ 10
			You immediately recognize Simon's reference to Athanasius' [i]Life of Saint Anthony,[/i] which you read as part of your advanced course in religious studies at St. Jerome's. Simon looks impressed.

			"I didn't realize you were so well-read."

		"Anthony sounds like just another feckin' colonist," says Cormac. "Shoulda just left the devils be."
	#"Why is it called 'Glenkildove' now if they called it the Glen of the Black Wood?"
		"It's Irish," Simon says. "[i]Coill dubh,[/i] black wood."

		"But the English didn't know how to spell it," Cormac puts in. "And sure they were the ones making the maps."
	#"Do we know anything more about the standing stones and the people who put them there?"
		Simon shakes his head.

		"No. We really know so little about history that far back. Even Stonehenge, and Newgrange here in Ireland. Nobody really knows who built them or why. There are so many mysteries in this world, things we'll likely never know. It makes me a little sad, at the same time as it makes me happy. If that makes any sense at all."

Simon picks up the story.

"There were still wolves in Ireland in those days, and the Wicklow forests were deep and dark," Simon adds dreamily. "I imagine the monks at prayer in the middle of the night, hearing the wind whistling through the pines and the wolves howling at the moon. I wonder what they thought about."

"Probably wondered why they were freezing their balls off in Glenkildove," Daniel observes.

"Daniel!" Kitty puts in, in half-amused outrage. "They were men of God."
*fake_choice
	#I side with Daniel.
		*set daniel %+ 10
		*set hedonist %+ 10
		"God or not, you wouldn't get me up for prayers in the middle of a freezing cold Wicklow night," you say.

		"The Londoner knows what's up," Daniel crows approvingly.
	#I side with Kitty.
		*set kitty %+ 10
		*set hedonist %- 10
		"There's more important things than comfort, Daniel," I say.

		"That's right," Kitty says.
	#I ignore the interruption and motion for Simon to continue.
		*set simon %+ 10
		*set aggressive %- 10

Simon continues the story. You notice that he often glances at Cormac as he speaks, as though looking for the older boy's approval.

"When the British came to Ireland, the Wicklow Mountains were one of the areas they found hard to control. There were too many places for Irish rebels to hide among the hills and valleys, and too many ways for British soldiers to disappear. Ballyavon in particular gained a dark reputation. But even so, little by little, moving out from the Pale around Dublin, the British put more and more of the mountains under their control. By the eighteenth century, the Anglo-Irish peer Mad Jack Dunbar was granted the lands around Ballyavon.

"Mad Jack Dunbar seems to have rejoiced in his reputation as a blasphemer and a maniac. He claimed he could smell gold in the hills around Ballyavon and wasted much of his fortune digging mines across the valley, none of which ever yielded a profit. He founded a fraternity known as the Sons of Perdition who were infamous for holding wild, sacrilegious orgies at their meeting place, a hunting lodge in the Wicklow hills." 

"It's your aunt's place now," Kitty puts in. "The Wolf's Head. My uncle Joe works there."

"Let us know if you find any creepy black magic stuff. Or if you're planning any orgies," Daniel adds. 
*fake_choice
	#I wink. "You're all invited, if so."
		*set hedonist %+ 10
	#I frown. "Is it true, what Kitty said? Aunt Maire never mentioned it."
		*set cautious %+ 10
		"Ahh, she wouldn't," Cormac says. "Your aunt has no time for all that. She just wants it to be the Wolf's Head, plain and simple, not some kind of naff tourist trap."

		He frowns. "There is something weird about that place, though."
	#"That's so fucking cool! I'm going to start searching the place tomorrow."
		*set cautious %- 10
		*set claudia %+ 10
		Claudia's eyes light up.

		"Hell yes! You're my kind of ${guygirl}."

"Mad Jack was hated by the Catholic peasantry, less because of his sacrilegious ways and more because of his deliberate, relentless repression of Catholic tenant farmers. A secret society known as the Stag Boys was formed to oppose him, one of dozens such groups operating in the Irish countryside at the time. But Dunbar's real passion in life was hunting wolves. There was still a handful of wolves surviving in the Irish wilds by the eighteenth century, and Mad Jack pursued them obsessively and systematically. 

"He hunted down and killed the last one in Glenkildove." 

"Or did he?" asks Claudia, donning a portentous scowl.

"Claudia's talking about the Beast," Simon explains. "The Beast of Glenkildove. The Beast is a folk legend, going back centuries. It's said to be a monster that stalks the Wicklow Mountains, preying on deer, sheep, cattle, and sometimes human beings. It roams up and down the length of the mountains, but its lair is in Glenkildove. Some stories say it's a hunting creature of the Sidhe, the fairy folk of Irish folklore. Others that it's a hellhound that Mad Jack Dunbar and the Sons of Perdition called up one stormy night." 

"But [i]I[/i] say," says Claudia with relish, "that it's the last wolf in Ireland. Mad Jack never finished it off and if he couldn't do it, nothing could. It just kept on stalking through the nights, getting older, more cunning…"

Without thinking, you interject.
*fake_choice
	#"…lonelier."
		*set cormac %+ 10
		*set beastlonely true
		*set expressempathy true
		Claudia shoots you a startled look.

		"I suppose so. It doesn't sound as menacing that way, though, does it?"

		Cormac is looking at you thoughtfully, but says nothing.
	#"…angrier."
		Claudia nods emphatically.

		"Oh yes. Yes indeed."
	#"…and more dangerous."
		Claudia grins.

		"Yes!"

Simon picks up where his sister left off.

"Every now and then, somebody will go missing in the mountains. There was an American couple, tourists, in the seventies. And there was a Japanese student in the eighties. She was in Dublin for the summer, came here for the weekend, and just…disappeared." 

He shrugs. "And everybody said it was the Beast."

Kitty shakes her head.

"It's awful. The poor girl."
*page_break
"Glenkildove, and the fields about it, belong to a woman named Imane Mokrani now," Simon concludes. "She came here from…Morocco, or Algeria, or…well, nobody seems to know, in the early nineties and bought the land from the last descendants of Mad Jack Dunbar. She lives further up in the hills. Nobody sees her very much. She doesn't like visitors and she doesn't like people on her land; it's one of the reasons Glenkildove isn't overrun with tourists."
*fake_choice
	#"But she doesn't object to us going up there?"
		Cormac grins.

		"As far as we can tell."

		Simon looks abashed.

		"We've never, ah, actually asked, as such. But I like to think we have as much right to walk up there as she does."
	#"How did she get the money for the land? What does she do?"
		"Nobody knows. She keeps to herself, is what she does now."
	#I just nod, without comment. 

The trail winds on up through the forest. Every now and then, a break in the trees gives you views of the soaring mountains all around you, lushly green expanses marked once in a while by the silver-white lines of waterfalls. There is no sign of human habitation anywhere on these slopes.

Kitty passes out bags of crisps for everybody to eat, subsequently collecting the empty, crumpled packets in a small canvas bag which she returns to her backpack. There is a little desultory conversation. You learn that the Fox siblings are the children of an academic, a professor of English literature, who lives locally but works in Dublin. Daniel's family came from Lebanon, although he has lived in Ireland since he was six years old.

Despite some mutual good-natured teasing and a little bickering, it's clear that the members of this group have known each other for a long time and are comfortable and at ease with one another's company. How do you feel?
*fake_choice
	#I feel uncomfortable and very much like an outsider around them.
		*set groupfeel "outsider"
	#I already feel as though I've known them all for years.
		*set groupfeel "comfy"
	#I like them but don't yet feel as though I'm one of them.
		*set groupfeel "newbie" 

The group begin to spread out along the trail. Cormac, who moves at a rapid stride, has moved on ahead of the rest of the group, and Simon hurries to join him. Claudia periodically leaves the trail and disappears into the woods beyond, to return with new scratches and mudstains on her T-shirt and jeans. Daniel and Kitty walk together.

Who do you walk alongside?
*fake_choice
	#I stride along with Simon and Cormac, at the front.
		*if (stamina + athletics) > 1
			*set cormac %+ 10
			Cormac and Simon are moving uphill rapidly, but you are in excellent condition and easily able to keep pace. Cormac notes this, giving you a nod of acknowledgement.

		"It's the Londoner," Cormac observes. "Hello, Londoner."
		*fake_choice
			#"${name}'s fine."
			#"Hello, Irishman."
			#I nod wordlessly and fall into step with them.
		*if groupfeel = "comfy"
			The two of them seem to be experiencing the same feeling you did, of feeling immediately comfortable and at home with you despite the short time you've known one another.

		"I was just saying," Simon says to you. "I'm going over to Maiden Hill next week. That's where Mad Jack Dunbar lived when he wasn't hunting wolves. I want to take a look at his library. You both should come!"

		Cormac shakes his head. "Nah. I'm going hunting with my cousins."

		"Ah, go on."

		Cormac grimaces. "No. I don't want to spend a day looking at books and all that old stuff. That's not my idea of great craic, Simon."

		He speaks mildly, but for a moment Simon looks desperately hurt all the same.
		*fake_choice
			#"Well, I'll come with you, Simon. I think it sounds fun."
				*set simon %+ 10
				Simon nods gratefully.

				"Damn straight it will be," he says, regaining his poise. "You don't know what you're missing, Cormac."

				Cormac just shrugs his shoulders, looking a little sullen.
				*goto kildoveglen
			#"Can I come hunting with you and your cousins, Cormac?"
				*set cormac %+ 10
				Cormac looks surprised at the question, although perhaps a little pleased as well.

				"I don't know. I could ask them, I suppose. My cousins aren't…nice, like Simon and the others. You'd want to be able to handle yourself, and know what you were about with a gun. But I'll ask them."
				*goto kildoveglen
			#I try to smooth over the momentary tension by changing the subject.
				The conversation moves on and the little moment of anguish is soon forgotten.
				*goto kildoveglen
	#I follow Claudia on her off-trail ventures.
		Beyond the trail, the forest floor is choked with nettles, brambles, and ferns. Claudia has obtained a stick and is thrashing a path through the undergrowth with enthusiastic slashes and swipes.

		*if claudia > 50
			She grins as she sees you. It is clear that Claudia has already taken a shine to you.

		*if claudia < 50
			She frowns as she sees you. Claudia clearly feels wary around you, but visibly resolves to give you a second chance.

		"Nobody else ever leaves the trail," she says. "So they don't really see the forest at all—just the part that other people want them to see. You might as well stay home, if you're going to do that. But everyone else acts like coming out here is like leaving the path in Mirkwood."
		*fake_choice
			#I recognize her reference to [i]The Hobbit[/i]. "Mirkwood? Are you a Tolkien fan?"
				"My brother is. [i]The Hobbit[/i]'s all right, but [i]The Lord of the Rings[/i]? Fifty pages of hobbit genealogy before anything even happens? No thank you, J.R.R. Tolkien."
				*fake_choice
					#I agree with her. "Yeah, it's not exactly action-packed."
						*set claudia %+ 10
						Claudia nods emphatically. 

						"Try telling that to Simon, though. He used to read that stupid book like twice a year."
						*goto claudiaofftrail
					#I defend [i]The Lord of the Rings[/i]. "It gets good. You just have to stick with it."
						"Yeah, yeah. That's exactly what Simon says. But you shouldn't need fifty pages just to start your flipping story."
						*goto claudiaofftrail
					#I shrug. "I've never read it."
						"You're really not missing much."
						*goto claudiaofftrail
			#I roll my eyes. "That's stupid. The reason people don't leave the trail is because there's nothing to see out here but brambles and weeds."
				*set claudia %- 20
				"That's not true," Claudia says. "There's lots more to see out here. For instance, now there's an idiot."

				There's a pause.

				"I meant you," she clarifies. "I was talking about you."
				*fake_choice
					#"Yeah, clearly." I return to the path.
						*goto claudiapath
					#"Ugh." I return to the path.
						*goto claudiapath
					#"I'm sorry, Claudia. I'm just not used to the countryside."
						*set claudia %+ 10
						Claudia looks at you, her head held to one side.

						"OK," she says. "Maybe you're not an idiot. Just a Londoner."
						*goto claudiaofftrail
			#"I'd never looked at it that way before. Excellent point, The Claw."
				*set claudia %+ 10
				Claudia beams.

				"You agreed with me and you called me The Claw! This is a great day! Although, now that somebody other than me has actually called me "The Claw," I realize that it does indeed sound kind of stupid. Let's not use it anymore."
				*goto claudiaofftrail
	#I walk with Daniel and Kitty.
		Kitty smiles anxiously at you.

		"I hope you're having a good time," she says.

		"Why wouldn't ${heshe} be?" Daniel asks. "Sure, Ballyavon might not have the world-famous cultural institutions, nonstop nightlife, economic vibrancy, or political and historical significance of London, but we do have a [i]lot[/i] of trees."

		He waves at the forestry beyond the path.

		"Look at them. Aren't they lovely?"
		*fake_choice
			#I laugh. "Yes, they're very nice."
				*set daniel %+ 10
				"Made ${himher} laugh! I made the Londoner laugh!" Daniel says to Kitty. 
			#I shrug. "I suppose. I mean we do have trees in London."
				"Probably not as nice as these trees, though."
			#I just stare at him. Why is he trying to be funny?
				*set daniel %- 10
				There is an awkward pause before Daniel, looking deflated, lets his gaze drop.

		Kitty picks up the conversation. "You're staying at the Wolf's Head? How do you find it? My da likes to go there for a drink every once in a while."

		Daniel shakes his head affectionately. "Same old Kitty. She's putting you at your ease. It was the same when I first came here."

		It seems that Daniel's and her families live next door to one another in the village, and have ever since the Aouns, Daniel's family, first arrived in Ireland. Six-year-old Kitty was so anxious for her new neighbors to feel welcome that she even tried to teach herself Arabic in order to converse with them.

		"We actually spoke French at home," Daniel notes. "But it was a nice thought. Kitty learned everything she could about Lebanon to try to make me feel at ease. She was kind of disappointed when I turned out to be obsessed with Man United and McDonald's."

		It is clear that Kitty enjoys looking after people, and that she wants to make you feel at ease.
		*if groupfeel = "outsider"
			She seems to sense your isolation within the group.
		She tries to involve you in her conversation with Daniel, including you in their banter and steering away from inside jokes and discussion of people you don't know.
		*fake_choice
			#I allow her to do so, participating in their conversation cheerfully and playing my part in the jokes between them.
				*set kitty %+ 20
				Kitty is clearly delighted at your participation in the conversation and Daniel gamely plays along, so the conversation between the three of you quickly takes on a life of its own.

				*if school = "footballer"
					*set daniel %+ 10
					Your football skills come up over the course of the conversation, and Daniel is delighted.

					"Hell yes!" he says. "You should come by the pitch for a few games while you're here. Show us how it's done in London."
			#I am coolly polite but stay aloof and respond only briefly to her attempts at conversation.
				Kitty seems a little disappointed, but after you've made it clear that you prefer to keep your peace, she directs most of her conversation towards Daniel.
			#I am curt and tight-lipped, saying very little at all.
				*set kitty %- 10
				It is clear that Kitty feels hurt by your stone-faced refusal to talk, but she recovers after the initial shock and henceforth directs all of her conversation towards Daniel instead as the three of you walk along.
		*goto kildoveglen
*label claudiaofftrail
For a while, you and Claudia move through the undergrowth, pushing and hacking your way through the brambles. In order not to lose the others, you walk in parallel with the trail, although Claudia is supremely confident of being able to find them again in any event. 

*if (beastlonely)
	*if (claudiamother)	
		She has been eyeing you for a while, as though she wants to say something but feels uncharacteristically shy. At last, she speaks up.

		"You said something earlier. When me and Simon were telling you about the Beast. You said you thought it was lonely."
		*fake_choice
			#"Well, yes."
			#"I think it was what you said about some people thinking that it was the last of its kind, the last wolf in Ireland."
			#I just nod, motioning for her to continue.

		"It's just…" she clears her throat. "I wondered if maybe you said that because you felt lonely. With…well, all of that with your mother, and coming over here, and not knowing anybody. And, um, I don't want you to feel lonely. I want you to feel at home here. I want us to be friends."
		*fake_choice
			#I shake my head, unsmiling. "No. I don't see that happening."
				*set claudia %- 20
				Claudia looks hurt but lifts her chin defiantly.

				"All right then," she says.
			#"That's very sweet, Claudia. I just need time and space, really."
				*set claudia %+ 10
				Claudia nods eagerly.

				"Sure thing."
			#I give her a hug. "Thanks, Claudia. That means a lot."
				*set claudia %+ 20
				Claudia hugs you back tightly.

				"Any time, friend-o. Any time."

She sighs, looking at the silhouettes of her brother and friends through the trees.

"Sometimes it's kind of nice being away from them all for a bit. Especially Cormac."
*fake_choice
	#"Why especially Cormac? Don't you like him?"
	#"I know what you mean."
	#"But not me, right? I'm cool."
		*set claudia %+ 10
		She rolls her eyes but can't hold back a little grin.

		"Yes, of course. You seem very cool. Like how needy you are. That's very cool." 

		Claudia continues.
	#I just wait for her to continue, without comment.

"It's not that I don't like Cormac, even if I don't think he's just the coolest thing ever like my brother does. But he's—" she hesitates. "Moody. He's your best friend one day, then he won't even look at you the next. And he's got a temper on him. He can actually be really scary when he properly loses it. Even when he's in a good mood, I always feel a bit like I'm walking on eggshells around him, you know?"
*fake_choice
	*if (cormacangry)
		#"Yeah. I saw that earlier, back at the farm."
			Claudia nods. "Then you kind of get it."
	#"But your brother likes him?"
		Claudia rolls her eyes.

		"Oh yeah. Simon thinks the sun shines out his arse. They've been friends since kindergarten."
	#"Is it something to do with his family? Aunt Maire mentioned something about the O'Donnells' reputation around here."
		Claudia grimaces.

		"Yeah, that's one thing you can't bring up around him. Cormac's uncles and cousins…they're rough. Simon says they, like, deal drugs and all that. But they're not as scary as his grandma, Orla O'Donnell. Everybody around here is afraid of her, even the Guards."
	#"You make him sound like a bully."
		Claudia hesitates.

		"Nooooo," she says. "That's not quite right. I don't think he likes scaring or hurting people, the way a bully would. I think he's just…angry. But I don't really know why. Maybe it's because of his mum dying."

"Claudia!" 

Simon is calling from the trail.

"C'mon. We'd better head back. He likes me to check in every now and then. Worrywart."
 
You rejoin the others.
*goto kildoveglen
*label claudiapath
Simon, walking alongside Cormac, raises an eyebrow as you emerge back on the trail so shortly after leaving it, but he does not comment, and you continue upwards in silence.
*label kildoveglen
*page_break
At last, you reach the top of the trail and emerge from the trees into mellow late afternoon sunshine, the group gathering together once again. Over the shoulder of the mountain, there is an open expanse of grass and yellow gorse, dropping down into the valley beyond: Glenkildove. Most of the glen is covered with pine trees. At its heart there is a circular lake, its waters still, brooding, and dark. On the shore of the lake closest to you, there is a cluster of stone buildings shaped like beehives, enclosed within an ummortared stone wall. A round tower some hundred feet tall rises at the heart of the little settlement.

"Glenkildove Monastery," Simon says. "They lived and prayed in those stone huts." He points to the far side of the lake, beyond which steep and rocky cliffs rise up. "The standing stones are over there, but the trees are in the way. There are caves in those cliffs, behind the standing stones. Nobody knows how deep they go."

"I'm going to find out someday," Claudia adds. "Every summer we say we're going to properly explore the caves, and every summer everyone chickens out. We've been coming here since we were little kids. It's our place."

"Now it's yours, too," Cormac says impulsively. He looks a little surprised by his own comment.

You make your way down to the lake. Cormac and Daniel are keen to swim in its dark, cold waters, but Simon just wants to read his book on the grassy slopes above the lake, and Kitty sits down beside him. Meanwhile, Claudia is anxious to look around the monastery buildings.
*fake_choice
	#I will swim with Daniel and Cormac.
		There is a pebble strand leading down to the beach, and a large boulder a little way beyond it, above deeper waters. Both Daniel and Cormac strip naked, unconcerned with privacy. Daniel inches into the water a step at a time, letting out a constant series of curses and exclamations over how cold it is. Cormac, on the other hand, simply strides up on to the rock and dives arching into the water with a splash and a great triumphant shout.
		*fake_choice
			#Following Cormac's lead, I strip off my clothes and climb on top of the rock, then dive into the lake after him.
				*set cormac %+ 10
				Arms extended outwards, you plunge headfirst into the dark waters. They are unimaginably, heart-stoppingly cold, and there is a moment of sheer agony. But it soon passes as you adjust to the temperature, and suddenly you feel more awake and alive than you can remember feeling in months.

				Cormac bobs up next to you, his red hair plastered against his head, and grins at you.

				"That's the way to do it," he says approvingly. "Not like your man Daniel over there. It just makes it worse, Daniel!"

				"You two maniacs do it your maniac way," Daniel responds through chattering teeth. "I'll do it mine."  
			#I take my clothes off and wade into the water like Daniel, a little at a time.
				*set daniel %+ 10
				The water is extremely cold and the pebbles and jagged rocks underfoot jab at your bare feet, so you both end up proceeding by hopping and skipping slowly into the water. Cormac, now lazily treading water further down the shore, shakes his head and periodically shouts unsolicited advice for you both to just plunge in.

				At last, the two of you have advanced to the point where the water is up to about chest height, and you are able to lean forward and start swimming. By now, your body has adjusted to the temperature, and there is a blissful sense of release in being able to at last just kick away and move through the water.
			#In order to preserve my modesty, I go in search of a secluded spot further down the shore to get undressed.
				*if (modest)
					You find a grove of trees a short walk from the beach, and there take off your clothes and slip into the water, using a branch that extends out above the surface to lower yourself in. Plunging into the cold water is a terrible shock at first, but soon you adjust and feel an intense, liberating pleasure in being able to swim out across the lake, back to where Daniel and Cormac are treading water.

		The sun, breaking through clouds, glows overhead, and the waters are suddenly crystalline. You can see the bottom of the lake below you. It looks like the interior of a deep green cathedral, with natural rock formations like pillars and great arches with shoals of silver fish swimming through them. Then the clouds return, and the vision vanishes.

		The three of you swim lengths back and forth across the lake until you are all happily exhausted. Kitty, who has been observing, obligingly lays out towels for you along the pebble beach, which you can grab as you emerge from the water.
		*if (modest)
			Daniel and Cormac simply walk out, while you return to and change within the grove of trees you used earlier.
		You towel yourself down, conscious of a pleasant warm glow all over your body, recover your clothes, and lie down by the sun-warmed, pebbly shore. Your efforts in the water tired you out more than you realized, because you find it impossible to prevent yourself from drifting off into a deep sleep.
		*page_break
		When you awake, the day has advanced considerably. Long shadows now stretch across the little valley, and there are dark clouds on the horizon. A fine gray mist has risen up from the ground, and you find your teeth chattering. Daniel and Cormac are nowhere to be seen, but Kitty and Claudia come down the shore to you, looking concerned.
		*goto cormacdanielargument
	#I will sit with Simon and Kitty.
		Simon and Kitty are sitting just within earshot of where Daniel and Cormac are splashing one another and shouting boisterously.

		"Welcome to the grown-ups' table," Simon says dryly as you sit down between him and Kitty.

		"Ah now," Kitty says, a mild Irish reproof. Simon just smiles dryly and returns to his book. All the same, you notice that he periodically glances downhill, his eyes lingering on Cormac as the red-haired boy cuts through the water with graceful, powerful strokes.
		*fake_choice
			#I ask Simon what he's reading.
				Simon looks a little embarassed, but shows you the cover of his book. It is called [i]The Obsidian Blade,[/i] part of a series called the Chronicles of the Dragon Empire, by James Harland.

				"Fantasy," Simon says, flushing. "My father think it's all juvenile crap, but I like it."
				*fake_choice
					#"The 'Dragon Empire'? Really?"
						*set simon %- 10
						Simon flushes deeper and mumbles something you can't quite catch. Kitty, seeming to sense the tension in the air, changes the topic and asks you something about London. The moment passes.
						*goto simonaway
					#"So do I. Can I borrow [i]The Obsidian Blade[/i] after you're finished?"
						*set simon %+ 10
						Simon looks pleased.

						"Sure. But it's the third in the series," Simon says. "You'll want to read [i]The Jaguar Knight[/i] and [i]The Pale God[/i] first. I've got them at home, I can get them for you."

						He goes on to talk about the series, knowledgeably comparing it with others in the genre.
					#"What is it that draws you to fantasy?"
						Simon frowns.

						"I don't really know. I suppose I feel like…well, I'd like life to work the way it does in fantasy. Not magic, necessarily, or not just magic, but things in fantasy work according to the laws of poetry. Not physics or gravity. Sometimes I wish life were more like that. I know that doesn't make much sense. I'm not explaining this very well, I'm afraid."

				Simon clears his throat.

				"I want to write myself, someday," he says, slightly abashedly. "Well, I already do, stories and that kind of thing. But they aren't any good."

				"I'm sure they're not," Kitty tells you. "But he won't let anyone read them. Because he's a big chicken. Bawk bawk bawk!"

				"They're [i]not,[/i]" Simon says firmly. "That's not me being modest. I just know I'm not good enough yet for anyone else to see them."
				*fake_choice
					#I agree with Kitty. "You've got to get over feeling shy about other people reading your stuff."
						*set kitty %+ 10
						Kitty grins.

						"See? ${name} agrees with me! You're going to be a famous writer someday and you're going to thank us in the acknowledgements for your first book."

						"Mmm," says Simon.
					#I agree with Simon that he needs time to practice.
						*set simon %+ 10
						"Right," says Simon. He nods to Kitty.

						"You'll read my stuff when I'm good and ready. Not before." 
					#I put to him that he'll never get any better if he never lets anyone see his stories.
						Simon shrugs uneasily.

						"I know, I know. But people do read them. Just not, y'know, people I know."
				*goto simonaway
			#I ask them how they came to know Cormac.
				"We all went to primary school together," Kitty says. "St. Colm's, in the village. He was a bold boy. Teachers either loved or hated him."

				"Claudia and I didn't go there," Simon adds. "It's a Catholic school. But we've always known Cormac. His father, Terry, went to college with mine."
				*fake_choice
					#I jokingly ask Kitty whether she loves or hates Cormac herself.
						"Oh, it's both," she says, laughing. But she looks thoughtful.

						"He's easy to love when he's in a good mood. It's like the sun shining on you," she says. "But when that lad's in a bad mood, he can be vile. Just vile."

						"'Gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirths…'" Simon says dreamily.
					#I comment that he seems to act as the leader of the group.
						"Maybe," says Kitty with a shrug. 

						"I think we fall into line with what Cormac wants to do," Simon adds, "Because he's the one who tends to want to do stuff the most in the first place. If you get what I mean."
					#I ask Simon why it seems to matter so much that he and Claudia are Protestant and that the others are Catholic.
						Simon sighs.

						"Maybe it's different in London. But over here, your religion isn't about what you believe. I don't believe in God, nor does Cormac. Religion isn't about that. It's about…everything. Class. Money. Where you go to school. Where you go to college. How you speak. Your name. What radio station your parents listen to. Trust me. It matters."

						"Well, I believe in God," Kitty puts in. "And I don't think any of it matters to Him."
						*fake_choice
							#"It certainly seems to matter to Irish people."
								Both Simon and Kitty laugh.

								"You're right there," says Kitty.
								*goto simonaway
							#I agree with Kitty. "God is love. Not division."
								*set kitty %+ 10
								Kitty smiles.

								"That's how I see it."

								"I just wish He'd let His fan club on Earth know it," Simon says, but he smiles too.
								*goto simonaway
							#I agree with Simon. "I don't think there is a God out there. Just people. People who love forming mean, silly little cliques."
								*set simon %+ 10
								Simon nods.

								"It's the way things are and the way they've always been."

								"I don't think it's the way they always have to be," Kitty says softly.
								*goto simonaway
							#"Some of these things don't matter to God at all. But there are things that our Church does that the Protestant Churches don't, things like confession, that matter a great deal."
								"Maybe you're right," Kitty says. "But don't you think they've found some things that we've lost? Maybe every faith—Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, everyone—has some part of the truth, and we just need to bring them together to know God. Atheists, too," she adds, glancing at Simon.

								"I think you might not like our bit of truth," Simon says, with a crooked smile. "Ow!" 

								Kitty has playfully elbowed him in the ribs.
								*goto simonaway
					#I comment on the fact that Simon seems to care a great deal about what Cormac thinks of him.
						*if (charisma + persuasion) < 1
							*set simon %- 10
							Simon seems to take your comment amiss.

							"He's my friend," he says stiffly. "Of course I care what my friends think about me."

							Kitty rescues the awkward moment by diverting the conversation into less dangerous waters, and soon the moment has passed.
						*if (charisma + persuasion) >= 1
							There is a long pause. Simon seems disinclined to answer at first, almost nervous, but you are able to gently persuade him to open up.

							"All of my life," he says slowly, "I've wanted to be as quick and clever and strong as Cormac O'Donnell. He's just…he just is. Even at his worst, he's never trying to be or pretending to be anything he's not. I can't be like that. I wish I could."

							He is avoiding looking at you as he speaks.
							*fake_choice
								#I shake my head. "Sounds to me like you're happy to live your life in someone else's shadow. I couldn't do that."
									*set simon %- 20
									Simon blinks several times, then removes his glasses to polish them. Over the course of the next three years, you'll come to recognize that as a sign that he has been deeply hurt and taken aback; the gesture serves as an excuse to avoid anyone's gaze. He does not say anything.

									Kitty looks at you, her head cocked to one side. Her expression is unreadable.
								#"It sounds as though you're in love with him."
									Simon doesn't comment. Nor does Kitty, who is regarding you thoughtfully.
								#"I don't agree. I haven't known you very long, but I think you're doing a very good job of being just the person you are…and I like that person a great deal."
									*set simon %+ 20
									Simon blushes with pride.

									"Thank you," he mumbles. Kitty smiles at you. 
				*goto simonaway
	#I will explore the monastery grounds with Claudia.
		*set exploredmonastery true
		*if claudia > 50
			Claudia is clearly pleased with your decision to come with her.

			"I like you, ${name}. You're not like the others here in this ruined monastery. I've got a good feeling about you."

		The two of you make your way into the walled settlement. As you peer into some of the beehive huts, there is little to see. The site has been long since been picked clean by archaeologists. 

		"We used to play Beast here," Claudia says. "Cormac would be the Beast of Glenkildove, and he'd hide somewhere in the ruins. We had to creep through the settlement. If one of us could reach the round tower, we were safe. It was so much fun. But nobody wants to play it anymore. They're too grown-up."
		*fake_choice
			#"That's too bad. It sounds really fun."
				*set claudia %+ 10
				"It was," Claudia sighs. "It was."
			#"Weren't you ever scared of the real Beast?"
				Claudia frowns.

				"Maybe a little. It was spooky. Part of the fun."
			#"Was Cormac always the Beast?"
				"Mostly. He was the best at it. He was scary, and that made it more fun. Daniel and Kitty were sometimes the Beast. So was my brother, but he was terrible at it. Not scary at all. They never let me be the Beast."

		The round tower, built of rough-cut gray stone, looms above you as you reach the center of the monastery. Its entrance, an archway into darkness, is perhaps ten feet above the ground.

		"They hid up there when the monastery came under attack from, y'know, Vikings and things. They'd ring the bell at the top and everyone would climb up the ladder. Last monk in would pull it up behind him, so the Vikings couldn't get up."
		*fake_choice
			#"Couldn't the Vikings have found a way up? It's not that far off the ground."
				"I know, right? I used to think that they built it like this so that wolves couldn't get in, the way that some huts in Africa were built on stilts to keep lions out. But my dad said that even when Ireland did have wolves, they'd never have been that aggressive."
			#"Have you ever been up there?"
				"I did once. I got up on Cormac's shoulders. There's not much to see up there. Just a dark, dusty, empty room, and no way to get up to the next level. There was a poem in Irish, scratched on the wall. Some monk must have written it while they were hiding up there. It's a prayer to God, to preserve them all from the fury of the wolves. Simon said that that's what they must have called Vikings, because they wore wolfskin cloaks." 
			#"I'm surprised this place doesn't get more tourists."
				"There are a few, every now and then, but not many. Maybe it's too difficult to get to. And people around here are a bit funny about Glenkildove. They don't like talking about it, or the Beast, with outsiders. So not that many people know about it."

		While you have been talking, the sun has hidden itself behind a veil of gray clouds, and a cold mist risen up from the ground. The sunny summer day has suddenly turned chilly. It's getting late.

		Kitty meets you at the monastery gate, looking concerned.
		*label cormacdanielargument
		
		"Oh, there you are! It's time we were getting home. I think it's going to rain soon. Cormac had a row with Daniel and now he's vanished off somewhere."

		"He's probably off in the woods, by the standing stones," Claudia pipes up. "That's where he goes to sulk."

		"Would you mind going to fetch him?" Kitty asks of you. "I think he's in one of his moods. Maybe you can talk to him."
		*fake_choice
			#"But I barely know him!"
				"That's why you're the best person to calm him down," Kitty explains. "Being a stranger makes some things easier, ${name}."
			#"Shouldn't Simon go? They seem close."
				Kitty shakes her head.

				"He tried to calm things down. Cormac snapped at him, too."

				Claudia winces.
			#"What was the fight about?"
				Kitty rolls her eyes.

				"Boy stuff. They're both always showing off and competing with each other."
				
		There is nothing for it but to make your way into the darkness beneath the trees.
		*goto thewoods
*label simonaway
*page_break
The conversation falls into a lull, and for a while the three of you simply sit there, Simon reading and Kitty gazing up at the sky. At last, the shadows start to lengthen while dark clouds drift in from the east and a fine mist rises up from the ground. Claudia has still not returned, and Cormac and Daniel have wandered off somewhere.

"It's time we were getting back," Kitty says, looking anxiously at the sky. "It's getting dark, and I think it's going to rain soon."

"We're in Ireland," Simon rejoins. "It's always going to rain soon." But he gets to his feet.

"I'll go after Claudia. Make sure she hasn't got herself stuck up the round tower or something equally foolish."

As he sets off into the walled settlement, an argument seems to break out down on the shore between Daniel and Cormac. You are too far away to hear, but you see the two gesturing angrily at one another before Cormac storms off into the woods beyond. Daniel, his face like thunder, approaches you and Kitty.
*page_break
"Well," he says, making a visible effort to seem calm and collected. "There he goes again."

"Mother of God, Daniel," Kitty says. "What happened?"

"Nothing! You know how he is. We were just joking around, then suddenly bang! Mount Cormac erupts. He thought I was laughing at him or something. He's so fecking touchy, I swear to God."
*fake_choice
	#"Really? That's all it took?" I look doubtfully at Daniel, convinced he must be more at fault than he's making out.
		*set daniel %- 10
		Daniel rolls his eyes.

		"Yes, ${name}. That's all it took. Ask Kitty."

		Kitty nods reluctantly. "He's just kind of like that."
	#"So he threw a tantrum like a five-year-old? He needs to grow the hell up."
		*set daniel %+ 10
		"Agree one hundred percent," Daniel says. Kitty sighs.

		"I think he [i]is[/i] growing up," she says. "I think that's the problem, in a way."
	#I look to Kitty. "Does this happen often?"
		Kitty sighs.

		"More often than it used to," she says.

Daniel shrugs, turning to Kitty.

"I'm not going after him. He can stay up here all night for all I care, but I'm sure Simon would get upset."

"No, we can't leave him here," Kitty protests. "${name}, could you go after him? When he gets this way, he just won't listen to any of us."

*if cormac > 50
	She pauses.

	"Besides, I think he likes you."

There is nothing for it but to make your way into the woods after Cormac.

*label thewoods
*page_break
*image aine.jpg center [Áine]
The woods are curiously still and silent. The noise of birdsong is muffled, as though it is something coming from far away. You follow a winding path underneath the pines. The woods did not look very big from the hill above Glenkildove, but once you are within them, they seem far more extensive. Try as you might to contain it, you begin to feel an inexplicable fear that you have somehow become lost in this forgotten corner of Ireland, that you could keep walking for weeks and see nothing but these pines all about you. 

And then, abruptly, you emerge into the overcast, cloudy light of an Irish summer evening. You are at the far end of the glen. Beyond you rises a semi-sheer granite cliff. There is an opening in its side about halfway up, a black cave mouth, from which issues a little waterfall which crashes down the cliff face into a pool between two rocks at the bottom, its still waters constantly churned by the frothing, white-tinged waters descending from above. Between you and the cliff there is a grassy knoll, and on the grassy knoll, a circle of weather-beaten gray standing stones with a low, flat stone at its center.

Between the stones, looking at you curiously, there is a girl of your age.  She is dressed in white and barefoot, with daisy chains knotted into her shoulder-length white-blonde hair. Her eyes are large, blue, and dreamy, and her fey, delicate face is marked by a fine spray of freckles. 

"Hello," she says, curiously formal, as you approach her. "God be with you. I'm Áine." She pronounces it 'Awn-yuh.' 

She looks at you.

"You're not from here, are you?"
*fake_choice
	#"No. I'm looking for my friend Cormac. Have you seen him?"
		"No. Your friend Cormac should be careful," she says gravely, almost primly. "This is a dangerous place."
	#"No. I'm ${name} Groghan. I'm from London."
		"London!" she says with great animation. "I've heard of London. It's a long way from here, isn't it? It sounds like a quare place. But you're not in London now. Nor are you safe."
	#"What makes you say that?"
		"You just don't fit in here," she says. "This is a dangerous place."
	#"What are you doing here?"
		"It's Midsummer's Eve," Áine says cryptically. "Once, everyone would have been up here."

Áine looks at the woods from which you have just emerged.

"I'd get home as soon as you can," she says. "It's midsummer. Moonrise coming soon. The Beast will be abroad tonight."
*fake_choice
	#"'The Beast'? Really? That's just a folktale, isn't it?"
		"Folktales have teeth around here."

		Áine displays her own small white teeth.

		"Come on. You need to get out of here."
	#"Aren't you scared of the Beast yourself?"
		Áine shakes her head. It feels like the movement should dislodge the delicately balanced daisies in her hair, but it does not.

		"Nah. He'll leave me be. I don't interest him. But you'd be a different story altogether now. Come on. You need to get out of here."
	#"I need to find my friend first."
		Áine sighs.

		"Then I'll help you find them," she says. "But you have to promise to leave afterwards."

Áine leads the way back into the woods.

"It's easy to get lost here," Áine says, flitting ahead of you like a pale shadow. "When the Saxons came to Ireland, they drew lines on paper. Compasses and pencils are their real weapons, not blades and bullets. They were very clever and very patient. They measured and drew the wildness out of the bogs and the mountains, the woods and the loughs. They bound it up in their surveyors' chains. Their maps took the land away. But some places like Glenkildove were folded and twisted so that the mapmakers couldn't get at them. You know? Like those yokes in outer space. Black holes. Glenkildove wouldn't fit on the British maps. And it swallowed up the surveyors and the scientists and the soldiers they sent into it, just like a black hole. They got lost. Glenkildove is always hungry, just like its Beast. It's easy to get lost here."

Still talking, she turns a corner and is suddenly gone into the undergrowth.

"${name}?"

It is Cormac. He is sitting under a tree by the side of the path.
*fake_choice

	#"Cormac? I think we need to get out of here."
		Cormac frowns.
	#"Cormac?" I feel relieved to see him after the strange experiences of the woods and the standing stones. "It's good to see you."
		*set cormac %+ 10
		Cormac gives you a wry smile.
	#"There you are! Come on. We've got to get home. Your temper tantrum might mean we're all going to get soaked in the rain."
		*set cormac %- 10
		Cormac scowls.

*if cormac < 50
	"I've had enough," he says. "Of Daniel, of Kitty, and the Foxes, and you. You most of all. Why are you even here? Who wants you here? Why can't you just fuck off back to London?"
	*fake_choice
		#I respond bluntly and aggressively.
			*set cormac %+ 10
			Heated words are exchanged. For a moment, you think that the two of you might even come to blows, but then, unexpectedly, Cormac laughs.

			"Ah! Serves me right. You're all right, ${name}."

			Calm having unexpectedly returned, you make your way in relatively comfortable silence back to the lake.
			*goto thelake 
		#I try to politely talk him down.
			*set cormac %- 10
			Cormac's mouth twists in disgust.

			"You sound just like Simon," he says. "Fine. Let's go."

			You make your way back in silence towards the lake.
			*goto thelake
		#I am sardonically dismissive towards him. 
			*set cormac %- 20
			Cormac's face goes white with rage, and for a moment you think he is going to attack you. You sense that mockery is the one thing he cannot stand.

			At last, after a visible struggle, he regains control of himself.

			"Come on," he says tightly. "Let's go."

			The two of you make your way back in uncomfortable silence to the lake.
			*goto thelake
*else
	He seems to have calmed down a little.

	"I know I shouldn't let him get to me that way," he says, meaning Daniel. "But Daniel…ahh, it's hard to explain. Maybe when you first meet him, you think he's this funny, charming fella. Later on, you realize that he actually thinks he's smarter than everyone else. He's laughing at you all the time. And Kitty—she wants to look after everyone, but that's really just another way of saying she wants to control everyone. And Simon and Claudia, it's all '[i]Mummy[/i]' and '[i]Daddy[/i]' and books and poetry and Trinity fucking College and…and…."

	He takes a deep breath. He has delivered the monologue without looking up at you.

	"I know they're my friends. I know they don't mean any harm. But sometimes I just can't be around them. It's like they're…noisy. Even when they're not making any noise. Like static, constantly blasting me. It's only quiet around you."
	*fake_choice
		#"Come on. Let's get back to the wall of white noise." I offer him a hand up and a sympathetic smile.
			*set cormac %+ 20
			Cormac clasps your hand gratefully.

			"I'm glad you came here," he says.
		#"I think your friends have to put up with considerably more from you than you do from them. The only reason I don't annoy you yet is because you haven't been around me as long."
			*set cormac %- 10
			Cormac shrugs.

			"Yeah. Maybe you're right."
		#I roll my eyes. "You're a spoiled child, Cormac O'Donnell. You'll drive everyone away sooner or later."
			*set cormac %- 20
			Cormac scowls and looks inclined to start a new argument, but then seems to resolve to drop it.

			"We'll see," is all he says, through tightened lips.

The two of you make your way back through the woods to the lake.
*label thelake
*page_break
The others are waiting there and you make your way back to the village in subdued silence. You mention the strange girl you met.

"Áine," Kitty says. "Áine Madigan. She's a strange one and no mistake. She went to the school in the village for a little while, but I suppose things didn't work out. She just left one day. Her family deal in horses and…well, they keep to themselves. My ma always said they were an old family, a very old family. Áine couldn't read or write when she came to school, and the teachers didn't make much headway either. I tried to help her, but she was too shy."
*fake_choice
	#"That's strange. She sounded like she'd had an education. She was talking about history, folklore, even mentioned black holes."
		"One thing any Irish person can do," Daniel observes wryly. "Sound like they know what they're talking about."
	#"She kept saying we had to leave. I think she was worried that the Beast would come for us."
		"The Beast casts a long shadow around these parts," Simon says quietly.
	#"It was strange, talking to her. It felt like meeting someone in a dream."
		Kitty regards you thoughtfully, her head cocked to one side. She seems about to say something, then thinks better of it.
	#"She sounded bloody mental."
		Kitty nods. "Yes. That sounds about right."
*page_break
Aunt Maire is waiting for you at the O'Donnell farmhouse, sitting with Terry and another visitor, a burly, elderly man dressed in the dog collar and black attire of a priest. His red hair and beard is shot through with gray.

"My cousin Matt," Terry says. "You might call him the black sheep of the family. He only went and joined the priesthood. But I could tell you a story or two about him when he was younger. Oh, he was a wild one."

He grins at you. The priest, Father Matt O'Donnell, hides a mirror-image smile behind his whiskey glass. "Ah now, Terry. It's the holy rollers who [i]don't[/i] have stories like that about them that you have to watch. Those are the bastards with something to hide, mark my words."

Maire shakes her head. "You've all got something to hide, my love. Or something you're running from. That's why you became priests." But you sense a wry, reluctant affection behind her words. Father Matt seems to take no offense.

"Ahh, Maire," he says. "Sure, it's just as well you never darken my church's doors of a Sunday. You speak your mind, and you call out fools and hypocrites no matter who they are. That'd scare some of my parishioners out of there forever."
*page_break
You and Maire take your leave soon after. Soon you're back in your room under the eaves at the Wolf's Head, looking through an ivy-choked window at the courtyard below as the sun sets red and gold over the Wicklow Mountains. As your breathing slows and your eyes close, you consider the summer ahead of you. From things your father said before you left, you suspect that this summer stay in Ireland will become a yearly event.

How do you intend to spend your summers in Ireland?
*fake_choice
	#I will help Aunt Maire out by working at the bar of the Wolf's Head.
		*set summerjob "bartender"
		*set edge1 "Insider"
		*set strength +1
		*set charisma +1
		*set composure +1
		*set manipulation +1
		*set insight +2
		*set awareness +1
		*set resources +1
		Maire is glad to have the help, as is Kitty's uncle Joe Cullen, the bartender and handyman. The Wolf's Head is busy. Besides its stream of summertime tourist guests, the Wolf's Head is also a social hub for the village of Ballyavon. You grow to know the sprawling building, with its extensive cellars and its many hidden nooks and crannies, very well. You haul casks up from the cellar, change taps, pour pints, clean and sweep, and run errands down in the village. You learn the fundamentals of running a business and of dealing with the many moods that stout and whiskey induce in the pub's clientele: from conviviality to melancholia to rage, sometimes all in one evening. 

		Over the next three summers, you come to be an indispensable part of the Wolf's Head, as well-known and liked among the locals as Maire herself. You are no longer "the Londoner," but "young ${name}," a respected member of the community. You get to know Joe Cullen as well. At first, talking to him is a little disconcerting. He was a boxer when he was younger, and scarring around his mouth means he's incapable of smiling, making him appear sour and unfriendly. But you soon come to understand him well enough to not be misled by his expression.
		*if school = "boxer"
			Joe is tickled by your interest in boxing and even shows you a few moves after hours at the Wolf's Head.
		
		[You have gained the [b]Insider[/b] Edge. This edge means that you are both known and liked within the insular, tight-knit community of Ballyavon and the farms around it. People in the area trust you and will confide in you, giving you a significant advantage later on while investigating in Ballyavon.]
		*page_break 
		You spend much of your time with Aunt Maire and get to know her rather better. You come to understand that behind her crisply sardonic air there's an unexpected vulnerability and uncertainty. She is respected in the village, but without any close friends. The only possible exception is Father Matt, Terry O'Donnell's cousin, who frequently comes over for a drink. You do learn that Maire has a girlfriend in Kilkenny, a town an hour's drive away, but she seems happy to keep the relationship at a distance, only going over for the odd weekend. Occasionally, she'll touch on her upbringing in rural Ireland with your father, and hint at the circumstances that led to a prolonged break between herself and the rest of the family.

		"Ah sure, I drove them crazy and they drove me crazy," is all she says, one evening after the bar closes. "Long time ago now."

		You get the impression that these moments, as guarded as Maire still seems, are overtures, attempts to build the relationship between the two of you. How do you respond?
		*fake_choice
			#I listen sympathetically, encourage further disclosures, and discuss my own problems and dreams with her.
				*set maire %+ 20
				By the end of the first summer, you and Aunt Maire are very close. After closing time, it becomes a well-established ritual for the two of you to settle down in the dimly lit snug, a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cards on the table between you, to chat and laugh over the events of the day. Maire feels completely relaxed and at ease around you—something that you sense is rare for her.
			#I listen politely, but do not confide in turn.
				*set maire %+ 10
				You and Maire soon develop a relaxed, amiable working relationship. You are at ease around one another, but Maire soon gives up her attempts to foster a bond with you and indeed seems almost relieved that you're not interested. She makes no effort to police your comings and goings outside work hours, and the two of you lead quite separate lives once the pub is closed for the day.
			#I coldly make it clear that I have no interest whatsoever in Aunt Maire's reminiscences.
				*set maire %- 20
				Aunt Maire is hurt but, it seems, unsurprised. You get the impression that she was half expecting your reaction. She shrugs it off and the two of you retire to your bedrooms in silence. From that point on, she is cool and to the point with you—never rude, but never again showing a hint of vulnerability or mentioning family history. You work together with a minimum of conversation.
	#I will go and work in the local garage and taxi service, owned by Daniel's family, down in the village.
		*set summerjob "garage"
		*set edge1 "Fleet"
		*set dexterity +1
		*set intelligence +1
		*set wits +1
		*set resolve +1
		*set driving +2
		*set technology +1
		*set resources +1
		Daniel's parents, the Aouns, are taciturn, practical people, unlike their voluble son. You learn the basic principles of vehicle maintenance and are set to work, cleaning and restoring. Over the next three summers in Ireland, you learn to drive on the narrow, grassy lanes around Ballyavon, get your license, and eventually help out with the garage's taxi service. You drive many carloads of tourists to and from Dublin Airport, or over the passes around the ruins and glens of Wicklow. The Aouns come to rely on you. Supplementing your wages is the tacit understanding that you can take any of the garage's cars for your personal use when they're not otherwise required.
	
		[You have gained the [b]Fleet[/b] Edge. Through the Aouns' garage in Ballyavon, you have access to a range of vehicles, making it much easier for you to get around the area. This will give you a significant advantage on the Hunt.]
		*page_break
		Working at the garage, you often see Daniel. The Aouns' garage is located right next door to their house, and it seems that Daniel has been helping out there almost as long as the family has owned it. You see a different side to Daniel at the garage: he is less prone to joking around and is always serious and respectful towards his parents. He also works very hard; in all the time you are there, you never see him do less than a full and conscientious job of whatever he is asked to do. He looks a little abashed when you notice this: he obviously prefers to act the part of a carefree clown around Cormac and the others.

		How do you behave towards Daniel?
		*fake_choice
			#I seek out his company whenever I can.
				*set daniel %+ 20
				Daniel soon warms to your presence and even seems to enjoy feeling that he can just be himself around you, without the need for constant quips. You come to know one another very well during your numerous late-night conversations sitting on cement blocks in front of the garage after the day's work is done, or over the dispatch radio on one of your long drives across the county.
			#I am courteous, but rebuff any attempts at a deeper friendship.
				*set daniel %+ 10
				You set the tone for your relationship going forward: you work well together and exchange friendly small talk, but never become any closer than that. Daniel does not seem to understand your desire for privacy, but he respects it and leaves you alone.
			#I am coldly hostile towards Daniel, often undercutting and belittling him.
				*set daniel %- 20
				Daniel at first displays a childlike hurt at this frequent verbal needling, which later hardens into a resolute indifference. The two of you rarely speak except as required for work. His parents don't notice the chill between the two of you, or at least tactfully pretend that they don't.
	#I will get a job helping out Terry O'Donnell, Cormac's father, on his farm.
		*set summerjob "farmer"
		*set strength +1
		*set stamina +1
		*set dexterity +1
		*set charisma +1
		*set athletics +2
		*set firearms +1
		*set resources +1
		*set edge1 "Beast Whisperer"
		Terry, a jovial, good-natured, and hopelessly disorganized man, freely admits he needs all the help that he can get. He runs a sheep farm, although you get the impression that such income as it brings in needs to be supplemented heavily by Terry's mother, Orla O'Donnell. Relations are not good between Terry and his mother. The priest you met earlier, Terry's cousin Matt, often seems to act as a mediator between the two, calming things down over a glass or two of Jameson.

		Despite or perhaps because of Terry's scatterbrained approach, the work is hard—herding and shearing sheep, gathering and transporting bales of hay, cutting down nettles and brambles, fixing fences and stone walls, and building shelters. You learn to fire Terry's shotgun; there's always some killing you need to do around the farm. You end every day with a painful but strangely satisfying ache in your muscles, the consequences of the exhausting physical labor. The work toughens you and builds your muscles, but you also learn a great deal about working with animals—the sheep, the dogs used to herd them, and the couple of cows that Terry keeps in a pasture for milk. You learn how to approach them, how to speak with them, and how to get them to do as you say. 

		[You have gained the [b]Beast Whisperer[/b] Edge. Your experience, training, and natural talent helps very much when dealing with animals such as horses and dogs; those that don't know you will be much more biddable at once, while those whom you have the chance to train will develop unshakable bonds of loyalty towards you. You will be able to train dogs to act as guards and trackers, giving you a significant advantage as a Hunter.]
		*page_break
		Naturally, Cormac also often works on the farm with his father, and the two of you are often together. How do you behave around Cormac?
		*fake_choice
			#I am forthright and friendly.
				*set cormac %+ 20
				Cormac clearly appreciates your straightforward friendliness. He relaxes around you and comes to confide in you. In quieter moments, when the work is done and the two of you can rest on the bales of hay in the barn where you first met, you'll talk about your plans for the future. Cormac is ambitious, determined not to remain in Wicklow for the rest of his life as so many of his family have done.
			#I am pleasant but detached and do not discuss anything but the work at hand.
				*set cormac %- 10
				Cormac seems to understand and sympathize with your preferences. He's polite enough, but rarely says much more than you do while the two of you are working together.
			#I constantly challenge and provoke him.
				*set cormac %- 20
				Cormac's hot temper is easy to provoke, and you make a game of seeing how quickly you can send him into a blind fury. More than once, you think he is going to physically attack you, but he always gains control of himself at the last moment and simply walks away, face set and pale. Terry is aware of your relationship but does not intervene: you suspect it's very similiar to the one he has with his own brothers. Perhaps he wants Cormac to learn how to control his temper in the face of such provocation.
	#I will get a part-time job helping Joe Cullen, the Wolf's Head handyman and Kitty's uncle.
		*set summerjob "repair"
		*set strength +1
		*set stamina +1
		*set dexterity +1
		*set wits +1
		*set technology +2
		*set driving +1
		*set resources +1
		*set edge1 "Improvised Gear"
		Joe Cullen, an ex-boxer and gnarled, tough old stump of a man, is happy to take on an assistant. You soon learn that his duties extend far beyond his work at the Wolf's Head, where he also tends bar. He is employed by a range of people around Ballyavon: fixing drystone walls, digging gardens, laying paths, maintaining solar panels, installing electric wiring, dipping sheep, and vaccinating cattle. He is a self-taught plumber and electrician, a carpenter and a plasterer. It is hard, backbreaking work in all kinds of weather, but you learn a great deal over the next three summers. Joe takes a quiet pride in your development and the speed with which you learn the secrets of his demanding trade. His demeanor is a little disconcerting at first. Facial scarring from his time as a boxer has left him unable to smile, giving him a perpetually scowling expression. But you soon come to understand him well enough to not be misled by his expression.
		*if school = "boxer"
			Joe is tickled by your interest in boxing and tells you a few stories of life in the squared circle as the two of you work.
			
		[You have gained the [b]Improvised Gear[/b] Edge, giving you a significant advantage in the Hunt. You can quickly and competently assemble and repair your own equipment, traps, and weapons, and you know how to secure and fortify a space.]
		*page_break
		Joe adores his niece Kitty and you see quite a bit of her, including frequent calls to the Cullen cottage in the village to fix one thing or another, giving you revealing glimpses of Kitty's home life. She is the second oldest of six siblings. Her father, Joe's brother, has been gone a long time. Her mother, who Joe says was once a vibrant, funny, intelligent woman, now does little but sit in a corner, watching TV. Kitty bathes, dresses, and feeds her younger siblings, sends them off to school, and does her best to keep her mother together, all while working hard at school, helping out at the church, and volunteering in a bewildering range of charitable causes. 

		How do you treat Kitty on these visits?
		*fake_choice
			#I am friendly and open with her, offering her all the emotional support that I can.
				*set kitty %+ 20
				Kitty is at first startled and even a little taken aback by your approach. She is so much more used to looking after other people that it's something of a shock to find consideration extended to her in return. But she soon comes to appreciate you and clearly looks forward to your visits with her uncle. Indeed, you sometimes suspect Joe of fabricating reasons to visit Kitty in the village, purely in order to see her sunshine smile when you arrive at the door. The two of you become close, confiding in one another over the course of long conversations over tea in the little front room of the Cullen cottage, after everyone else has gone to bed.
			#I am polite but keep Kitty at a distance.
				*set kitty %+ 10
				Kitty is as friendly towards you as everyone else, and seems almost relieved that you at least will not require the kind of care and attention that virtually everybody else in her life seems to require. You remain on pleasant terms, but never come to know one another very well.
			#I am aloof and cold around Kitty.
				*set kitty %- 20
				Kitty is clearly hurt and distressed by your coldness towards her. Joe notices as well—soon afterwards, it becomes his policy to visit the Cullen cottage by himself, without taking you along. As a result, you see little of Kitty when you are working. 
	#I will take up hunting.
		*set summerjob "hunter"
		*set strength +1
		*set dexterity +1
		*set stamina +1
		*set composure +1
		*set firearms +1
		*set survival +1
		*set clandestine +1
		*set edge1 "Hunter's Arsenal"
		The woods around Ballyavon teem with birds, hares, and deer. Aunt Maire knows a group of veteran hunters who like to drink in the bar of the Wolf's Head at the end of a day's shooting, and she introduces you to them. They teach you to handle a gun, and soon you have a firearms license. Sometimes alone, sometimes in company, you venture across the hills and glens around Ballyavon, learning to move soundlessly through the deep woods, blend in with the foliage, stay impossibly still while you wait for your prey to move, and then to gently squeeze the trigger while breathing in, to watch your prey fall. Those long, long days, beginning in the cold wan hours before the dawn and ending long after the moon has risen above the Wicklow Mountains, become essential to you, as sustaining to you as the nips of raw whiskey or poitín from the flask that your fellow hunters take as they lie in cover.

		[You have gained the [b]Hunter's Arsenal[/b] Edge. You have an Irish firearm license and access to a close-knit network of hunters throughout the county; you will be able to borrow hunting rifles or shotguns in Wicklow, no questions asked, giving you a significant advantage when the time comes to hunt more dangerous prey than birds or deer.]
		*page_break
		Among the keenest deer hunters around Kildove are the younger Red O'Donnells, Cormac's cousins. They're a wild, raucuous crowd, in stark contrast to the older and more serious hunters that frequent the Wolf's Head. You sometimes end up shooting with them, with Cormac included. Cormac is a very different person around his flame-haired cousins: louder, more aggressive, and more full of swagger. He eyes you warily whenever the two of you are brought together on these occasions; he apparently likes to keep the two sides to his life separate—the person he is around Simon and the others, and the person he is around his cousins—and feels uneasy when he sees them overlapping in this way.

		How do you treat Cormac?
		*fake_choice
			#As Cormac seems to prefer in this setting, I am equally aggressive and brash, participating cheerfully in the crude jokes, drinking games, and boasting contests around the campfire.
				*set cormac %+ 20
				*if gender = "female"
					At first, the all-male group of young hunters is a little taken aback that a girl would be able to swear and swagger just like they can, but they soon come to appreciate it. Cormac in particular can't resist a sly grin the first time that you leave his cousin Donnchadh speechless after a minutes-long stream of colorful insults.

				It is obvious Cormac appreciates that you have divined and accepted the unspoken rules of this world. The two of you soon fall into a relationship of good-natured ribbing and one-upmanship. Sometimes, when the fire burns low and the others are asleep in a beery stupor, you'll have more meaningful conversations, about the woods, Glenkildove, and your hopes and dreams for the future. It is hard to believe that the quiet, thoughtful Cormac you see in these moments is the same shouting, laughing young reprobate who'll appear in the morning.
			#Without making a point of it, I avoid Cormac as much as possible.
				*set cormac %+ 10
				Even on the odd occasion when you do join one of the O'Donnells' wild hunts, you keep your distance from Cormac. Far from being hurt by this, he seems to appreciate it. Whenever you do have some occasion to talk, he is civil and friendly.
			#I take every opportunity I can find to humiliate and belittle Cormac in front of his cousins.
				*set cormac %- 20
				It is not difficult to find ways to cost Cormac face in front of his cousins. His position among them is precarious already; you get the impression that his father, Terry, is considered something of a joke and even a weakling among the adult O'Donnells. Masking genuinely hurtful insults as simple banter, you manage to repeatedly humiliate Cormac. Each time, he makes matters worse by being unable to control his reaction—he goes white with rage and glares at you. Once or twice you think he might explode into actual violence, which only intensifies the crowing laughter of his cousins. By the end of the first summer, Cormac is a little more in control of himself around you, but you sense that he has become deeply distrustful of you.
	#I will find work at one of the nearby racing horse stables.
		*set summerjob "stables"
		*set stamina +1
		*set strength +1
		*set stamina +1
		*set charisma +1
		*set athletics +1
		*set leadership +1
		*set streetwise +1
		*set resources +1
		*set edge1 "Beast Whisperer"
		Horse racing is a national obsession. Most race horses are reared and trained on the Curragh, the plain beyond the Wicklow Mountains and a storied 
		place in racing mythology. You find work in one of the stables there, belonging to an Anglo-Irish racing enthusiast. The work is hard and unglamorous—most of your first month is spent mucking out the boxes—but there is a fascination to it. You sense that most of the people you work with, a mixture of Irish, South American, and Ukrainian workers, would work twice as much for half the pay purely in order to be around the horses.

		As you gain the owner's trust, you are permitted to do more. Sometimes he has you shadow him when he goes to the races or to the Dublin Horse Show, the frenzy of the racetrack a contrast with the discipline and order of the stable yard. But you know you have truly secured his trust when, at the end of your first summer, you are finally permitted to help handle and rub down the horses. You soon develop an affinity for the magnificent animals. Your skill in breaking in horses—getting them to accept a bit in their mouth and a rider on their back for the first time—soon comes to be well-known around the Curragh. Even the jockeys, perpetually foul-tempered due to the rigorously austere diet and exercise regimen necessary to maintain their weight at the ideal for riding, come to respect your way with horses.

		[You have gained the [b]Beast Whisperer[/b] Edge. Your experience, training, and natural talent helps very much when dealing with animals such as horses and dogs; those that don't know you will be much more biddable at once, while those whom you have the chance to train will develop unshakable bonds of loyalty towards you. You will be able to train dogs to act as guards and trackers, giving you a significant advantage as a Hunter.]
		*page_break
		Inevitably, you come across the Madigan clan from time to time. These are the family of Áine, the strange girl whom you met at the standing stones of Glenkildove. The Madigans are rootless and nomadic. They get by doing odd jobs and dealing horses. They have a reputation as sharp dealers in that capacity, but your employer will deal with them. His position is that they don't try to cheat one more than anyone else.

		As a result, you sometimes see Áine around the yard, running errands for her father. How do you react?
		*fake_choice
			#I am friendly and frequently engage her in conversation.
				*set aine %+ 20
				Áine is wary at first. She's clearly used to being shunned and mistrusted by the close-knit world of the Curragh. But as your sincerity becomes clear, she warms up and even becomes quite eager to speak with you whenever she sees you. The two of you have many conversations, standing by the gallops where the horses are exercised. Áine is a strange girl, self-educated and full of curious, interesting ideas. She leaps about conversationally like a salmon in the stream, connecting quantum physics to Irish folklore, and local political corruption to the Book of Revelation. She clearly values your company. 

				Sometimes, a strange fear will well up inside her, an inexplicable terror blazing behind her blue eyes. When these moods strike, you come to learn that her only way of coping is to immediately go off by herself and seek out self-medication: typically in the form of a joint. You ask about those moments, but Áine is always vague and evasive.
			#I am polite but don't go out of my way to talk with her.
				*set aine %+ 10
				You treat Áine like any other visitor to the yard, a way of doing things with which she seems perfectly content.
			#I make it clear that I have no interest in speaking with her.
				*set aine %- 20
				Áine is clearly hurt by the cold shoulder with which you present her, but she soon learns to simply avoid you and address herself to one of the other stable hands.
	#I will learn as much local folklore and mythology as I can.
		*set summerjob "folklore"
		*set intelligence +1
		*set wits +1
		*set resolve +1
		*set charisma +1
		*set academics +2
		*set awareness +1
		*set edge1 "Folklore Library"
		There is a rich folk tradition of tales, poetry and customs around Ballyavon, material that inspired writers such as W.B. Yeats, Liam McPhee, and J.M. Synge. You begin your inquiries with the oldest folk who come to the Wolf's Head, to doze and gossip in the common room over Guinness. They are able to tell you many stories, of fairy forts up in the mountains and places where the Sidhe dance in fire. They tell you of Mad Jack Dunbar drinking hot whiskey with the Devil in this very house when it was his hunting lodge, and of the Irish rebels, who could hide so well among the mountains that the British soldiers swore they could turn themselves into beasts of the wild. You hear stories of ghosts and witches, of the Tuatha Dé Danann and Fionn mac Cumhaill. You hear many stories of the Beast and its victims. As you exhaust their stores of lore, you are directed further afield, to village [i]seanchaithe,[/i] or storytellers, learning Irish so as to be able to converse with them more easily. You soon learn that Father Matt, the priest you met on the day you went to Glenkildove, is an enthusiastic local historian with a particular interest in folklore; you spend many afternoons at the priest's house by the church, looking through his collection of volumes. It is Father Matt who introduces you to Donnelly's Bookshop on Ormond Quay in Dublin: a six-story bookshop specializing in folklore and the occult built around a rambling, winding central staircase with bookshelves, galleries, and side rooms running all the way up. You have soon acquired your own library of books and notes; you and Maire spend an afternoon putting up shelves around your room in order to be able to house them all.

		[You have gained the [b]Folklore Library[/b] Edge. In among the old stories and traditions that you have recorded may be fragmented clues to many of Ballyavon's darkest secrets; by storing them all in one place, you will have a significant advantage as a Hunter.]
		*page_break
		In the course of your inquiries, you often find yourself running into Simon. It appears that the Protestant boy has a deep interest in folklore himself and loves to gather it.

		How do you treat him?
		*fake_choice
			#I am keen to compare notes with him and collaborate.
				*set simon %+ 20
				Simon is delighted by your openness and shared interest, and together the two of you work very effectively in gathering and storing materials. You learn more about this shy, gentle, slightly awkward boy in the process. He clearly loves his little sister, Claudia, but feels a little frustrated by what he sees as her immaturity. He is devoted to Cormac; you sense that he both admires and envies Cormac's self-possession and confidence. He harbors dreams of becoming an academic at Trinity College Dublin like his father, specializing in Irish folklore.

				"Or Oxford or Cambridge," Simon adds—he is at least supremely confident when it comes to his own academic abilities. You spend a great deal of time with him and you sense that he is coming to like you a great deal.
			#I am polite but keep my research to myself.
				*set simon %+ 10
				Simon always seems to look forward to your chance meetings around Wicklow, but the two of you only ever engage in friendly small talk, and no deeper subjects are ever broached.
			#I deliberately drive him away with undisguised hostility.
				*set simon %- 20
				Simon is a sensitive boy and it doesn't take very much to drive him away, leaving him blinking repeatedly and cleaning his glasses in his hurt, understated way. He gives up his pursuit of Wicklow folklore, at least during the summers while you are there, and you have the region and its hidden lore all to yourself.
	#I will pursue an interest in electronics, gadgets, and drones.
		*set summerjob "drones"
		*set intelligence +1
		*set wits +1
		*set resolve +1
		*set dexterity +1
		*set technology +2
		*set leadership +1
		*set edge1 "Drone Jockey"
		In garages and basements in Wicklow Town and among the Dublin suburbs clustered around the northern part of the Wicklow coast, tech enthusiasts are building the future. They're assembling superfast gaming rigs from junked-out old PCs, building their own state-of-the-art recording studios and security systems—and building and flying drones. You learn how to maintain, repair, and fly these machines and soon you are part of Wicklow's small, informal community of gearheads, exploring and filming the heights of the Wicklow Mountains with your drones.

		[You have gained the [b]Drone Jockey[/b] Edge. You will have access to a wide range of flying drones, which will give you a significant advantage when on the Hunt, doing scouting and reconnaissance across Ballyavon and the surrounding countryside.]
		*page_break
		Among your fellow enthusiasts in the area turns out to be Claudia, Simon's little sister. She is very keen on drones, and has a real knack for piloting them, although she lacks the patience and precision to be much good at assembling or maintaining them.

		How do you react to Claudia's presence in the group?
		*fake_choice
			#I am keen to work closely with her, supplementing her flying skills with my own abilities in repair and maintenance.
				*set claudia %+ 20
				The two of you collaborate closely, and soon become accustomed to working closely together as a team on drone flights. Claudia clearly appreciates the way your skills complement her own and furthermore simply enjoys your company. The two of you frequently linger after drone flights to chat over coffee and discuss your plans for the future. Claudia wants to be a spy.

				"Or a private detective," she adds. "Definitely a job where I can snoop on people and find stuff out that other people don't want me to know. Hey, we could be partners! 'Fox and Groghan': definitely sounds like a legit detective agency."
			#I am friendly but keep her at a distance, treating her no differently than anyone else.
				*set claudia %+ 10
				Claudia, as happy-go-lucky as ever, seems happy enough with this arrangement. You see her around often, but the two of you rarely talk much.
			#I drive Claudia away with undisguised hostility.
				*set claudia %- 20
				Claudia is startled and even alarmed by your coldness towards her. After a few attempts to reconcile with you, she seems to accept this as a lost cause.
	#I will learn to play traditional Irish music.
		*set summerjob "musician"
		*set charisma +1
		*set manipulation +1
		*set composure +1
		*set wits +1
		*set persuasion +2
		*set insight +1
		*set edge1 "Insider"
		A group of gray-haired old Irish musicians play at the Wolf's Head on Saturday evenings. Spending time with them, you learn the old songs and a smattering of the Irish language, and how to play the tin whistle and the bodhrán or frame drum. It isn't long before they consider you ready to play alongside them at the Wolf's Head, and much of your next three summers is spent inside the group's beat-up old van, travelling to one destination or another across the Wicklow hills, playing at weddings and fêtes, fairs and pubs. Best of all are the private house parties, when half the musicians of Wicklow will descend on the home of one member or another, there to drink poitín and stout, to smoke their pipes and play until dawn. On one memorable occasion, you even see the legendary, mysterious folk singer Liam O'Keegan play, a little old man with a sad smile who turns up unannounced and without explanation. He plays from night through to dawn, alternating between sad songs of haunting beauty and lively jigs or bawdy songs full of joy and laughter, before disappearing as abruptly as he arrived.

		Despite your London origins, you are unquestioningly accepted by the folk musicians' tight-knit community, and as a result you are well respected throughout Ballyavon.

		[You have gained the [b]Insider[/b] Edge. This edge means that you are both known and liked within the insular community of Ballyavon and the farms around it. People in the area trust you and will confide in you, giving you a significant advantage while investigating in Ballyavon as a Hunter.]
		*page_break
		You often see Cormac at house parties. Despite his family's reputation, he is respected and admired in the folk music community for his musical talent. You see a different side to him at such gatherings. He seems joyous yet calm when he is playing, as though all of the restlessness and anger and agitation that you saw that day in Glenkildove just melts away once he puts the fiddle to his shoulder.

		How do you treat him when you see him?
		*fake_choice
			#I am warm and friendly, and play with him whenever I can.
				*set cormac %+ 20
				Cormac seems genuinely pleased by your interest. The times when the two of you play together quickly become a highlight of such evenings. You seem to share an almost mystical connection; no matter how complex the score, the two of you can play it together with instinctive collaborative grace. You do not talk very much afterwards, as though words would ruin it, but you sense that Cormac feels a bond of trust towards you.
			#I am polite whenever I see him, but make no effort to seek him out.
				*set cormac %+ 10
				Cormac always greets you with a friendly nod, but seems to sense that you would rather keep your distance. Perhaps sharing the sentiment, he keeps to himself and the two of you rarely speak.
			#I make a point of avoiding him and refuse to attend any house parties where he is likely to be.
				*set cormac %- 20
				The folk music community is small and gossipy. Word inevitably reaches Cormac that you are snubbing him in this way, and you can only imagine how it must anger the hot-tempered O'Donnell boy. As if to make some kind of point, he frequently turns up at places where you are performing and takes the stage himself, playing with fiery, anger-driven energy in an effort to outdo you.
*page_break
Your year took on a definite pattern. Summers in Ireland, the rest of the year back in London. Your mother died, leaving your father a ghost of the man he had been. Somehow, once school ended each year, it seemed preferable to return to Ireland and the Wolf's Head instead of spending the summer in that haunted South London flat with that stumbling, empty-eyed old man, unable to say any of the things he wanted to say. Ballyavon was a refuge from all of that, and Glenkildove its cool green heart, a place of respite and sanctuary.

Until that day when you saw one of your friends die in blood and horror and Ballyavon became a safe haven no longer.
*finish