Jasmine whistled a merry tune as she led her mule and cart out of town. The good people of Schwartzhaven had been about their business all day, and the fruits of their labor was now heaped high on her cart. She'd let the maggots loose on the pile, and they were busy starting the process of turning that into the high-quality compost that made the Featherblossom clan so famous. It was a good night. Sure, the tall folk were hiding out of their weird superstitions, but they were always a little screwy sometimes. Came from being so tall. Not enough blood going to the head, or something. Jasmine stopped for a moment and peered through the mists. That house on the hill... she hadn't visited them. And if they weren't customers, well, the Featherblossom clan could be very convincing. Jasmine turned the mule onto the path and headed up the hill. Pickles, her dog, looked puzzled for a moment, and then followed her. Once at the house, she picked her club up from the cart and gave the door a few sharp raps with it. Time to make her pitch.