The main group had gone to see if they could locate Old Piter, the missing Mist Eyes fence, and left Lochlain behind to watch over the Urchins. The Ghūl could have been disappointed, but in this case he didn't mind; the interactions of the surfacer gangs didn't really interest him, except where they might affect his new friends. He was here on other business, and interacting with... well, mortal children... was bringing back memories he'd long ago forgotten.
Of the four urchins, Teagan the halfling was a little ways into the spoke, baking with the woman Shonya at the Bread and Board; Tara was still recuperating from her ill-considered attempt to infiltrate the Forgotten; Ilana was working on a series of locks that Krintal had left for her to practice on, and Pickle was off studying with the druids.
"Finished!" said Ilana, just as Tara emerged from their shared bedroom. It was a lucky thing the urchins got on well enough to share a room; Lochlain generally tucked himself into a small storage room to sleep -- essentially a closet -- or simply curled up in the entryway once everyone was back inside. He didn't need to sleep, but as a Stalker he could re-assume his mortality, and the urge to sleep came with that. It was strangely soothing, too, to relax so completely that he once again dreamed as mortals did.
Tara was still yawning. "Food?"
Lochlain nodded. "Jans left some scones and a bit of tea. Let me..." He positioned the tea pot beside the sink, then hung the warming stone inside it. A minute or so, and the water would be back up to temperature. Tara was already halfway through a scone, and Ilana came over to help prevent the tea from boiling by staring at the pot.
"Could we practice fighting?" asked Ilana, looking up at Lochlain.
"Well, let me--" There was a soft patter on the roof of their hideout: not an animal, but a gentle drumming, conveying a message that only he could translate. He'd only missed it at first because he was used to hearing it through stone. "...Ilana. Tara. Stay down here."
Ilana nodded and ducked back towards their bedroom; she came back out with a pair of daggers, and slid one across the table to Tara.
Tara looked uncertain. "I'm not as good as you--"
Lochlain was halfway to the front door, but he hesitated at that. "Tara, I want you to focus on that dagger. Make it yours."
He paused, watching, and was rewarded by seeing the faint swirl of misty power that flooded out from the girl's hand and sank into the weapon. "Stay here. I'll be back."
"Will you?" asked Ilana.
"If I'm not," he replied, "use the boat to escape."
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