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Durelin wandered in, the pouch at her hip rattling with bones. She kneeled on the floor and drew them out, tossing them onto the ground with a clatter.
"Beware the Ides of..." She stopped, peeked into her bone bag, and pulled out one lonely piece of scapula so it could join the rest of its compatriots. "February."
The wise-woman tilted her head up toward the rafters of the inn, as if perusing stars that were not there.
"Well, if anyone's still alive then to beware it."
Durelin paused, waiting for someone to comment. She received only bewildered, bemused, and just plain alarmed stares.
"If you want something more specific I'm going to have to bring in a dead animal." She turned to the innkeeper, Celuien. "Can I do that?"
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