[Himaran]

Raen wasted no time leaving the group and returning to the inn, making straight for his quarters. The paranoia he had felt earlier was rising like a river during a storm, and the ranger took every percaution. Knife in hand, he hurried up the stairs, only to stop and peer around the corner slowly. Nothing. A door slammed further down the hall, and he jumped nervously. Calm down, you should be used to such circumstances. But knowing that enemies were about when you cannot discern them from regular townsfolk can be rather terrifying, and although Raen was not yet ready to give into such emotions he was still quite stressed.

A cool wind blew through the open window at the far end of the hallway. Raen left the stairwell and headed towards his room, watching for movement at the far end. Instead of turning, he passed by his door and casually glanced through the open shutters. Hama's arrow was barely visible, burried in the center of the road. The runner, having mounted after his near demise, was long gone, probably halfway to Sandrina's estate. But nothing could be done; her attackers could be waiting, or perhaps had fled. Something would be there, however - although not necessarily members of the woman's family.

Stepping back, he unlocked his room and entered. Packing would have to be a quick affair, and the ranger's small bag was soon filled and tied shut. Raen's remaining knife (and a full quiver) returned to its home in his belt, and a longsword was strapped to his back. Snatching his bow from a hook on the crusted brick wall, he shut the door and turned the key for a final time before making for the stairwell. Not at all burdened by his pack and weapons, the ranger strode towards the main desk and slapped the key down on the polished wood. Coins were handed over, and a nod of thanks (along with several advertisements) was returned. Raen stuffed the parchments in his pack for kindling and left the establishment. He made at once for a smith on the other side of the town, plucking Hama's shaft from the ground as he past by.

"Heading out to look for that Sandrina girl again, eh," intoned the familier gruff man at the shop. Chuckling at his own rye joke, he took Raen's extended blades and proceeded to sharpen them over a hand-cranked wheel.

"No, just escorting a group back to their home. Dangerous country, these days." To this the smith merely nodded, and soon the ranger was headed back to the inn; furbished with refined tools of war.