Satenag adopts a thoughtful expression.

"... that's maybe okay. You don't have to believe me, I don't think. Probably I should ask the organizer — they'd know, as a matter of law."

She shakes her head.

"Well, it might not quite be everywhere, but we can certainly welcome you to Southern Fishing Village, and introduce you to everyone while we're figuring things out."

The boat is not terribly speedy, but they're approaching the shore rapidly enough. They're close enough now for individual people to be visible — which also means that Eeferi is visible from the shore. There's a certain amount of running about, and people crowding onto the beach to spectate.

On approaching the shoreline, Eeferi goes for spectacle and flamboyancy.  Art and music and attempting to greet individually everyone present - including asking what they may call the others - and writing it all down. They're visibly active, moving with haste and urgency.

Egresta jumps out of the boat, and heaves it the last few feet onto the sand, splashing in the shallow water.

The scene on the beach is chaotic, the way that any attempt to simultaneously greet two dozen or so people would be. People are initially a little wary, but open up quickly when Eeferi greets them with good will instead of anything nefarious.

Satenag helps by pointing out and naming some of the shyer people.

"Mother!" one young woman cries, running up and grabbing onto Egresta's arm. "I was on the hill and I saw smoke from your boat — is everything alright?"

"Everything is perfectly fine," she reassures her. "We just have an unexpected guest. Anþasta, this is Eeferi. Eeferi, my daughter Anþasta."

"And organizer Penþa," she adds, as an older person carrying a ball of string jogs down to join the confusion, slightly out of breath.

Eeferi seems to calm down by perhaps a half a step and thanks Satenag for their help.

"Hello there Anþasta, I would hope there is nothing to worry about! I haven't harmed any sailing trips today, to my knowledge." - Eeferi continues to be made up of smoke which billows from the lamp.

"Ah, a person in charge of something.  Greetings, organizer Penþa."

Penþa nods respectfully.

"And greetings to you as well," they reply. "Eeferi, was it? In any case, welcome to Southern Fishing Village; we would be delighted to host you for dinner. Did Egresta pick you up on the far shore?"

Satenag shakes her head. "I fished them up out of the lake — over in the eastern shallows. They had been trapped inside an oil lamp; I have no idea how long it must have been down there."

Penþa absentmindedly fidgets with the end of their string.

"Well, it must have been a while ago," they speculate. "Because I'm certain I would remember if there were anything like this in the records."

"Before the founding?" Satenag whistles.

She picks up Eeferi's lamp and steps out onto the beach.

"I think we all have a lot to discuss, but maybe we ought to do it where we can all sit down," she says. She turns to Eeferi. "If that's alright? We can go sit in the courtyard and introduce you to everyone else as they come back from whatever errands they're on."

"Yes, you may call me Eeferi.  Dinner and/or a meet and greet in a courtyard both sound good to me, though I don't need to eat, if you would prefer to save on supplies."  In a quieter voice, whispered directly in Satenag's ear - "Given your responses earlier, I suppose you'd rather not Wish for a grand feast when you could workshop some Wish against going hungry in general.  Though if you want ideas, I can consider previously granted Wishes that might apply?  Though perhaps you'd rather I wait on that."

Satenag bites her lip.

"If you want to start thinking of suggestions, that would be helpful," she agrees. "But yeah, wishing for anything that's just a one-time thing would be really irresponsible of me."

The gaggle of villagers starts walking inland, past a garden where things are just getting into the swing of spring, and into a cleared area in between the houses. As they walk, a young boy with messy hair sees Satenag talking with Eeferi and runs up to them with wide eyes.

"Oh, there you are, sweetheart," she exclaims, pulling the boy into a hug. "Eeferi, this is my son Daskal. Daskal, this is our guest Eeferi."

Daskal has approximately two-hundred and sixteen questions.

"Are you really made of smoke? How can you pick things up? Are there lots of smoke-people? What about —"

"Let the person answer, Daskal," she admonishes. "And of course you don't have to if you don't want to," she adds to Eeferi.

"I enjoy the freedom to answer, I think."

"Well Daskal, let me first greet you.  Greetings, Daskal." - Writing - "Now yes, I am made of smoke, and magic, I suppose."

"Others..?"

"If there are others of my kind I did not make, I do not recall them, but I know how to form someone into one - and what restrictions that places.  You would be well placed to think very carefully about the consequences before deciding that is the path for you."

... well, that is quite possibly the most ominous thing their visitor could have said.

Satenag coughs into her fist. "Er. Right. Daskal, go ahead and ask your other questions; I need to talk to Penþa for a moment."

She pulls the organizer off to the side and has a low conversation explaining the situation.

"Can you turn people into other things? Like cats? Or turtles?" Daskal asks after a moment to digest Eeferi's first answer. "And if the only smoke-people are people you've made into smoke, where did you come from? The moon?"