|
Wenda roused herself and struggled out of the straw filled bedding. She threw her furs over her agile girth, her boots on her feet, and went out to her reindeer, making sure of their care before seeing to her own. Then she went inside.
As she came inside, she overheard the old crone whose tale she'd listened to eagerly. "Go on now, lad. Eat your breakfast. And give Old Goody a tale."
She was speaking to one of the three halflings, the first for his first breakfast, seemingly.
"Aye!" said Wenda. "I'd like to hear a good tale from a halfling after the dire whisperings I've heard before I got here. Then if you like I'll give you a taste of what I've heard."
This far to the north, the sun came close to never rising for weeks at a time each year. Those were chilling times to soul as much as bone, and Wenda had heard enough to chill her own soul for three winters running back to back, 'may whatever gods that oversee such things ne'er let such come' she said to herself.
Wenda sat nigh to the pair but at a different table, not wanting to go where she'd not been invited. The yule log's fire was heating her well enough where she sat.
|