...admitting a tall, lean figure whose mottled green cloak sheds flakes of snow as he pushes the hood away from his head. Grey-blue eyes peer from a careworn face, surveying the nearly empty room, his features carefully neutral. Still, the barest trace of a wry smile flits quickly across his face, as might a hurried shadow cross the lane amidst the blowing snow outside, only to disappear in the swirling eddies of light against dark.
A deliberate but easy stride carries him to the hearthstone, where firelight casts a warming glow upon his well-traveled leather. There he pauses for a moment, his body soaking up the radiant warmth as though too long bereft of such a simple pleasure. With an almost inaudible sigh, he steps away from the fire and moves to an empty table, setting a much-used ash bow against the wall before settling into a chair. His drawn features slowly, inexorably ease as the familiarity of room begins to set in. Nevertheless, his thoughts whirl, and those who know him might recognize, under it all, a shade of what might be called fear. "I remember," he thinks. "But will they?"
He withdraws a leather flask from under his cloak, drinks briefly from it before setting it on the table, and then is still. Those gentle, tired eyes slowly peruse the room as he waits, quietly, to see what happens next.
A deliberate but easy stride carries him to the hearthstone, where firelight casts a warming glow upon his well-traveled leather. There he pauses for a moment, his body soaking up the radiant warmth as though too long bereft of such a simple pleasure. With an almost inaudible sigh, he steps away from the fire and moves to an empty table, setting a much-used ash bow against the wall before settling into a chair. His drawn features slowly, inexorably ease as the familiarity of room begins to set in. Nevertheless, his thoughts whirl, and those who know him might recognize, under it all, a shade of what might be called fear. "I remember," he thinks. "But will they?"
He withdraws a leather flask from under his cloak, drinks briefly from it before setting it on the table, and then is still. Those gentle, tired eyes slowly peruse the room as he waits, quietly, to see what happens next.