A ghost weaved in and out of the shadows as she hurried toward the barrow. In her hands she clutched a steaming pot of freshly brewed coffee the steam of which curled above her head in a foggy mockery of a crown. A green velvet bag dangled from her wrist, and she was blissfully unaware that the roguish wind was striving to tear it away from her.
As she entered the golden glow from the light of many candles, it could be seen that many of her features had faded with the passing of time, though it could be conjectured that she had once had brownish hair of medium length and eyes that may have been dark or light. The most obvious fact about her was that she was short. Her nametag, which was pinned half hazardly on her shirt, bore the scribbled name of "Sonja".
She smiled briefly to H and Tig when she entered the barrow, nodded to them both, and then set the pot down upon the table. As she waited for the others to arrive, she rocked gently back and forth against the wall.
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