Is it pride, respect for the barrier between worlds, or fear that stops the question from manifesting? Hazel takes a step back and makes a sweeping gesture with her hand toward the bench she had been seated at only moments before when she was speaking with another spirit. There is no bonfire here, but the torches do at least keep the worst from the misty chill from seeping into this place.

With her guest seated the Autumn spirit takes several moments to stand in the center of her sequestered circle and stare out at the swirling mists that surround them on all sides. Some may find this sight to be frightening. Threatening. To Hazel it is life's greatest mystery held so close one could nearly reach out and grasp it.

"What sort of a man was Connor?"