[piosenniel]

Gilly grabbed one of the lit lanterns from the shelf behind the bar, along with the stout club she saw leaning against the wall and ran out after Pio. She threw the shade of the lantern open wide and shone it about the darkened yard, walking boldly about the perimeter of the Inn, making loud noises. If there were anymore ruffians about, she meant to flush them out and raise the alarm. She had a strong right arm on her from work on her family’s little holding, and there was many a marauding fox and weasel that limped along on three legs after an encounter with her in the chicken coop.

Her heart was pumping wildly as she walked on patrol, though her thoughts were steady, and her senses alert. Once round the Inn and all was quiet. A small crate at the corner of the veranda afforded her a place to sit and watch the entrance to the Inn, the two main windows, and the road leading up to the Inn’s entry path. The light from the window nearest her, did not reach to this corner, and she hooded the lantern, throwing her vantage point into complete darkness.

She saw Mistress Piosenniel come riding back to the Inn, and clamber off her horse, turning the beast loose to find her way back to her stall. From the sag of her shoulders, she could tell that the chase had not been a successful one. Her estimation of her new employer went up several notches seeing her not hesitate to rise to the threat. Miz Amaranthas had been right when she wrote Gilly that Miz Pio would prove an interesting person to work with. This should turn out to be just the sort of challenge Gilly craved. Something out of the ordinary.

All was quiet. She slipped out her carving knife from the small sheath on the belt at her waist, and picked up a piece of kindling from the pile at the side of the building. It was too dark to whittle a figure, but she kept her hands busy shaving curls of wood from the stick. Halfway through a third piece, she heard the crunch of footsteps on the graveled road, nearing the turn in to the Green Dragon's pathway. Resheathing her knife, she picked up the club and watched the figure approach.

Someone in a long cloak, hood up. Too short to be a Man, she thought. Gilly waited until the figure drew near, then stepped out into the light, the club held securely in her hand. A girl, it was – her age, she thought. Gilly opened the hood of the lantern to better see the girl's face.

‘And who are you, Miss?’ asked Gilly, politely enough. ‘And what is your business at the Inn tonight?’