As time passed, strange things began to happen in Brindlemark. Tools would go missing, only to reappear in odd places. Food would spoil, as if someone had tampered with the root cellar. And then, there were the dreams. Vivid, disturbing dreams that seemed to seep into the minds of the villagers, leaving them feeling unsettled and on edge.
The villagers explained their concerns, and Tana listened, her expression unreadable. When they finished, she nodded thoughtfully and invited them inside.
And Tana, well, she continued to tend her garden, to walk the coastline, and to listen to the land. For in its rhythms and secrets, she had found her own sense of purpose, her own magic.