[piosenniel]

Obsidian and Jet sniffed cautiously at the silent grey clad figure that hovered at Aman’s elbow. Their hackles raised slightly as he came round to face the young woman, their lips drawing back slightly to reveal the glinting tips of sharp teeth. Unphased, the server bowed politely to Aman, offering her the tray with a single goblet of mulled wine.

Pio smiled at the two canines, one of whom, Jet she thought, had stuck his wolvish nose deeply into the grey robes and sneezed upon inhaling deeply.

You’ll not get much but dust from those robes, my furred friends. Startled the wolf looked up at her as her thoughts came to him. They have no scent. And as far as I can tell, there is a real possibility that there is nothing beneath their raiment.

Both wolves chuffed at this remark, and narrowed their eyes at the servant, who was now just as quietly withdrawing. Obsidian nipped at her mate’s ear and both settled down round Aman’s feet, protectively.

Pio, sat down at one of the tables near the fireplace and admired the plaque for a moment. She tipped her chair back and swung her long legs up to the table’s top, much to the consternation of the new Innkeeper.

‘So, Mithadan, now that you’ve got that birthday party just about squared away, how about a small affair here in the Inn for the new denizen?’ She heard him stifle a groan at the mention of the word ‘party’. ‘Something small, but fun. How about it?’ She looked about at the high ceilings and rafters in the Inn, wondering how a little techno music might sound bouncing off them . . .