The dawn came, dark and gloomy, and the second snow of the year began to fall.
Clip, clop, clip, clop, the sound of slow hooves upon stone approached the sleepy, frozen town.
Clip, clop, clip, clop, the man tasked with watching the road took up his torch, stepped out of his office, and peered through the window in the gate. A tall figure clad in a full hooded cloak of forest green approached, astride a red-blanketed horse that would have been powerful had it not appeared to be in need of a good meal an brushing.
Clip, clop, clip, clop, nary a pause as the figure swung off the horse with ease, taking the reins and walking the rest of the way. The green-clad traveler gazed back at the man behind the gate, their mouth and nose covered with a scarf.
"What is your business, stranger?" asked the man.
"I seek an inn," the traveler replied, her voice rich and warm, yet somehow harsh. "And I've no business that concerns you, other than to keep warm."
"Alright, alright," the man grumbled, undoing the latch and opening the gate. The woman walked past, no interest in further conversation indicated. "It's a right at the next road if'n you're wanting an inn," he called after her departing back. "Welcome to Bree..." he finished with a mutter, uncertain she had even heard. He shut the gate shut, slamming the bolt impatiently into place, and the traveler jumped and turned back, her cloak whirling heavily about her.
He scoffed. She turned away. "Come, Halith," he would have heard, had he been near enough.
Clip, clop, clip, clop. She turned right at the next road.
She took up a residence in the Prancing Pony Inn for the winter, though how she paid her way through the season would be difficult to guess, as she appeared to not have much to her name. She spent little time in the common room, but was still a regular sight to its patrons; for she collected her meals twice a day from the bar, always at the same time, always clad the same, her hair and eyes and voice turning heads. Occasionally, she would be approached, pulled into conversation. Almost never for long.
As the spring thaw approaches, those regular to the inn might begin to wonder about the woman with the flaxen hair and soft blue eyes... Will she stay awhile or will she disappear, her secrets still untold?
