He had known that his hill folk would be suspicious, but he had ambitiously thought that they would accept her. Besides, to him, Beauty was as sweet as she was silvery, and he thought her shimmering looks pretty. How could anyone see malice in her clear, violet eyes? As the villagers welcomed him home that first evening in Imwane, they asked questions about the strange girl. “Where did you find it?” “Is it sent from the gods?” “Will it hurt us?” But he would only answer that her name was Beauty and that she was his child. The more questions they asked, the angrier Owaine grew, and it was Isole who had to settle things. “My papa is hungry,” she said. “We mustn’t hassle him.” There were murmurs of agreement before the travelers were told that there was a feast planned in their honor and they were then led to a barn at the bottom of the valley.
