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Accompanied by a heavy gust of wind, the young woman entered the Inn publicly for perhaps the first time in her life. Her weather-beaten cloak, soaked to an indistinguishable color, covered her fully. A deep hood shadowed her face, revealing naught but a pair of dancing hazel eyes. Her boots, though of the best make, had seen much wear.
She shrunk, nearly imperceptibly, against the sudden light and merriment. It was long since she had braved the predictable questions of any safe and foolish locals, but the woman was on a quest. I must find her, she thought, before I lose my nerve.
A pale hand, shaking slightly, reached out of the wraps to push the hood back. Damp curls of the darkest auburn tumbled free as she looked around unhindered. People were beginning to stare. Soon the questions will come. The way they always do.
Finding her target, her sole reason for having made this long and lonesome trip, the woman stepped slowly and gracefully toward the bar. When she spoke, her voice was soft, melodic. A conversation not yet meant for all ears.
"My dear Aman," she spoke to the Innkeeper's back, "It has been quite some time." She shivered. The Innkeeper turned quickly, recognizing the voice. The woman smiled; a smile hiding many secrets, many nights alone under the stars... many stories of her past. "Perhaps some hot cider to take the chill off?"
"Fea... nay... Caelwyn? Is it really you?" The Innkeeper looked at the mysterious guest with an unidentifiable expression.
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