Hulwen was, and almost always is, a cheerful sort, filled with that kind of unadulterated glee that children can have, long into his young adulthood. But now, walking along Blackberry Street, looking at the just-ripe berries on the branches. Coming here in of itself was significant, a smaller lane which was less used - after all, blackberries only came into full juicy ripeness at the end of summer, and with the fear of autumn on the horizon. They were, in a way, the fruit of war for the Summer Court, and some warriors of Summer had taken to them as a symbol, brewing sweet and almost sickly wine.

Hulwen loses himself in thought for a moment as he looks at a particularly bountiful branch of blackberry, and reaches out to pluck one. It is as he tastes the fruit that his eyes widen, and he gives his fingers a small click. "Of course! The Blackberry Brigade. If they know where Master Vissna is... that could be a start, at least!"