With a final assurance to the maid, Aedre, of her satisfaction, Saeryn was allowed to close the door to her newest home. Tears of mirth lit her eyes as they rested on the dancing fire.
Piling her smoky clothing and boots neatly on the floor, Saeryn climbed into her bath, savouring the feel of the hot water on her skin. Several times she dozed until she finally, clean and content, gave up on soaking and redressed with the idea of a post dinner snack.
Her clean clothes flattered Saeryn as her others had not. As she padded back to the Great Hall, the black breeches, equally functional, but of better make than the brown, worked with her soft crimson tunic to hug the girl's slender figure. Her long, damp tresses were currently held the unwilling hostages of a well-meaning braid.
Her exhausted body ordering her to bed, Searyn walked in the opposite direction of her room. Seeing two men beside Bethberry, Saeryn made to sneak away, not desiring to interrupt, but the Innkeeper beckoned her forward.
"I hope your bath suited you? I fear I must plead forgetfulness, m'dear, but what did you say your name was?"
"I didn't.... I am called Saeryn."
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