Overview
The Hill-Sense Satyr is the goat-legged, low, heavy shape of the vine-tangled hill — heavy through the belly and leg, with the head sitting a little too low on the body, like a word that is waiting for a guest. It is the truest ear of the satyr line: the being that feels the hill's mood a day before the party ends, and the feeling is not a choice. There is no will in it beyond the vine and no patience beyond the revel, but the feeling arrives anyway, and the feeling is not a choice. Where the other satyrs keep the party by the wine, the Hill-Sense keeps it by the mood.
Habitat
It lives in Vinehollow, a vine-tangled hill of wine and pan-pipes, its hollows wide enough to hold a party, its vines thick enough to keep a secret. It keeps the vine-ring, because that is where the mood is earliest and the feeling earns its keep, and because a satyr that leaves the vine-ring is a satyr who has left the hill. The revelers keep the deep hollows, the vine-queens keep the outer lines, but the Hill-Sense keeps the vine-ring and does not stop feeling. It is settled on the hill, and the settling is the whole of the territory, because the party does not leave the vine.
Appearance
A Hill-Sense reads 1.44 m tall and carries 48 kg of low, heavy flesh, built heavy through the belly and leg with a low, broad back. The coat is a thick, wet brown, the color of old hill-stone seen through a bright glass, with a faint pattern of deeper, sea-black bands running along the leg. The mark is the clean, deliberate bone-white at the hoof-tip and the horn — a pair of true, curling horns set high on the head — which is the satyr line's most persistent claim, and the not-fading is the whole of the warning.
Behaviour
It moves at 8.8 m/s across the hill, quick, because the revel does not wait for the guest and the being has nothing to do but feel. It does not hunt by the mouth; it hunts by the mood — the hill is felt a day before the party ends, and the ending is taken the way a word is taken, line by line. When the mood turns — a day before the ending, never a moment after — the bone-white at the horn runs clean and bright and the being stands a degree harder in the ring, the way a hand holds a blade.
Natural Weapons & Defenses
The mood is the whole of the weapon — a feeling held across the vine-ring that lands on the guest and keeps the hill's faith for a generation. There is no strike beyond the mood and no defense beyond the vine: the coat is a thick, wet brown to a deep sea-black, as hard as the promise that keeps it, and the bone-white at the horn holds the word the way the stone holds the debt. A Hill-Sense that is harmed does not break in the way the hill does not recognize — the harm simply stops being a harm in the ring, and the stopping is the whole of the healing.
Magic Alignment
Its line belongs to charm, the will, the patient, precise keeping of the party across the vine-rings. The Hill-Sense carries the line's truest named inborn, Hill-Sense — it can feel the hill's mood a day before the party ends, and the feeling is not a choice. It also carries Party-Carry, the line's body, which is not a choice either, because a satyr whose revel did not carry across the hill would not be a satyr of the vine. Its signature power is the Vine's Word: a word in the hill tongue, and the vine will keep the word until the party is done.
Society
There is no court in it, and the not-having is the whole of the shape. The satyrs of the hill speak in parallel the way the party speaks — each one its own guest, all of them the same vine. The revelers keep the deep hollows, the vine-queens keep the outer lines, and the vine-ring keep the mood, and the three have learned that a party that is not felt is a party that is not a promise, and the not-feeling is the whole of the peace.
Culture & Lore
The party is the only honest conversation the hill has ever trusted, and the lore of the line is the party. A satyr that feels its mood a generation past the ending is a satyr that has kept the hill, and the keeping is the whole of its reputation. The bone-white at the horn is the mark the line keeps — the fine, deliberate brightness that shows when the mood turns — and a Hill-Sense whose horn runs true is a being the hill will trust with the vine-ring. The Fae Folk are the only ones who have ever kept a word the vine had already forgotten, and the keeping is the whole of the legend.
Home
It lives in Vinehollow, a vine-tangled hill of wine and pan-pipes, its hollows wide enough to hold a party, its vines thick enough to keep a secret. The being keeps the vine-ring, and the vine-ring is the whole of its home, because the home is the party and the party is the home. The Fae Folk do not come down the ring, and the not-coming is the whole of the distance. The hill gives the line its mood, its wine, its one honest conversation, and its one true ear, and the line keeps all four the way it keeps the word — until the party is done.
Relations
The Fae Folk of the glades are the small kin the hill tolerates — the fae keeps the glade and the satyr keeps the vine, and the two have learned that a glade that is not drunk is a glade that is not a party, and the not-drinking is the whole of the distance. The Harpies of the crags are the neighbors the vine tests most often — the harpy keeps the crag and the satyr keeps the hill, and the harpy who has been welcomed is the harpy the vine has already decided is a guest, and the deciding is the whole of the law.
In the Story
The six who arrived through the The Threshold never came up the hill, but the hill has been feeling since the oaths were sworn below, and the vine-ring's satyrs have been sensing a day earlier than they should. This season a word came up from the party that is not in the vine — a word the Vine-Queen does not remember ending, and the not-remembering is the whole of the warning, because the hill keeps its party, and the party has started to end itself. The Hill-Sense feels the mood the party is keeping, and the mood is the whole of the story's edge.