As she rode in sight of the Inn, Saeryn sighed quietly. The damp wind picked its way about the young woman as her hood fought in vain to stay put. Tendrils of auburn hair escaped their pins to dance before her tired eyes. Impatiently she brushed them aside and rode on, her usually feisty mare as exhausted as Saeryn herself.
"Almost, Dawndancer, just some further..." she crooned to her companion. At the sound of her mistress's voice, the mare perked up. Food and drink awaited them both; the finest in Rohan by all accounts. Saeryn allowed herself to melt away into dreams of hearty stews and mugs of something hot and spiced before dismounting and leading her horse to the stables.
With a generous tip to the stablehands as well as a final caress of her horse, Saeryn entered the Inn. Finding the room deserted, but for a drowsy face near the fire, she made her way over, leaving the threshold behind. "Madam," she spoke tiredly, "Could you please help me? I would be forever in your debt if you could help me find a room for the night, a hot bath, and something generally nourishing for me to eat." Saeryn pulled off her travel-stained cloak, revealing equally functional breeches and a man's shirt beneath. It is good, she thought, to have finally made it to The White Horse.
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