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Cato, Kellan, and Pisca headed back to the Rusty Dragon; the weather was brisk and the cold sea air snapped across their faces like the edge of a frozen whip.  By the time they reached Ameiko's establishment their noses and cheeks were bright red despite their best efforts to shield themselves from the coastline's biting gusts.

The inn itself, however, was a welcome respite from the dark, cold windiness of the outside.  The public room was well-lit, warm, and full of people.  As the trio stumbled in through the door, Miery approached them, smiling broadly.

"It's a cold one out there tonight, ain't it?  And," she called over her shoulder, raising her voice, "no better place to fight off the cold than the belly of a Dragon!"

A boisterous chorus of assent greeted the statement, as those still sober enough to track with the room's goings-on raised their glasses in vigorous agreement.

"But you," her smile faltered somewhat as she fully took in their appearance, "seem like you need more comfort than most.  Can I get you a table?  Or will you be heading to your rooms?"

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This message was lightly edited by the GM at 19:11, Mon 25 Jan 2016.

Seems like just yesterday there were butterflies, thought the gnome.

"Seems like just yesterday there were butterflies," she then said out loud, her thoughts, as was their wont, escaping out into the world.  "They'd be pretty cold if they were still around."

"Do you have any cold chicken?  And celery?  And maybe some bread.  And cheese?  And ... no.  No, just that.  I think I'll just take that up to my room.  I think tomorrow is going to be a busy day.  Best to get some sleep."

Kellan stepped in the Dragon with a sense of purpose, the young man was just getting his second wind and felt strongly that he needed to be out there, doing something, working to stop all this before some other poor bystander was caught up in all this madness.

And at the same time he felt that he should find the time to rest so that he could be at his best when everybody else woke up, he could possibly just burn straight through, maybe get by with a nap. But then things could get dangerous if they found themselves in a situation needing to be up through the night, or even days straight. It could easily happen he decided.

Piscas comment about Hakon still weighed on him however, and so he paused and collected his thoughts for a moment before he spoke.

"I...really liked that horse...Hakon...can you imagine what it was like for a foureen year old me to ride through town on a purebred destrier?" He gave out a grim laugh and shook his head. "I was spoiled, had no business having a horse that nice. My family would have a hard time buying one like  him even if they sold every animal they own. I used to spend hours just curry combing him to see his coat shine in the sun"

He paused and looked to the ground, a faint twitch in his eye for just an instant.

"And then I went and lost him...ran off and left him alone, and my issued weapon" He sounded angry at himself "Stupid...stupid...but it happened."

"And he was still just a horse" He sighed and look over to the gnome "and weighing that against a neighbor, against Kat, or any body else." He shook his head "I'll kick myself later, but I figure that for now I just need to keep it together so we can go get whoever or whatever is responsible"

She just watched as he spoke, her face turned up toward that of the young human like a sunflower turned up to the life-giving orb on a clear blue day.  When he was done, she said nothing.  She only wrapped her arms around his leg, holding him tight for a moment.  Her face pressed into his leg at a spot between the steel and leather, feeling the warmth of his living body.  It was so wondrously comforting.

Then she let him go.  And in that moment, the gnome realized that you have to let all things go.  Some day.  Sometime.  But you can't let go unless you hold a thing in your hands in the first place.  And maybe that's what life is - holding something precious in your hand for a moment, and then letting it go on its way.

Still quiet, reserved, Pisca patted his cuisse as though comforting it with the soft sound of flesh upon steel.  Still she said nothing.  No words of comfort.  Nothing of her revelation.  For in a rare moment of wisdom, she realized that the lesson that she'd just learned was one that you had to come to yourself if it was ever to truly be yours.  Then you could hold it in your hand until it was time to let it go too.

Exhausted by the day's ordeal, Cato followed Kellan and Pisca into the Rusty Dragon.  He smiled at Miery, nodding his head.  "I'll be taking whatever you have back to the room, I suppose."

He sighed and looked at the warm common room of the inn, watching Kellan and Pisca for a few moments.  At times like this, Cato just wanted to collapse into a seat and relax with his friends, but his path required sacrifices - lone hours of study, and he couldn't take the risk right now.  A well-timed spell could prove the difference with their coming struggles.

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“No chicken,” Miery responded, then brightened, “but I think we have some leftover roast.  Will that do?”  She smiled at Cato.  “I’ll get somethin’ filling fixed up for ya.”  She held up a hand.  “Wait here.”

The warmth, smell, and noise of the public room washed over the tired heroes as they stood talking—it was a veritable tidal wave of normality.  Old Man Tice, who owned a farm not a mile from Kellan’s parents, held court before a couple of other equally crotchety-looking older men, reminding them how much colder the nights had been in their youth, and how fortunate these younguns were that they didn’t have to experience the biting frost of that kind of ocean breeze, theorizing that today’s less-hardy stock of Sandpointers might die of frostbite right then and there.

His audience nodded sagely, agreeing with every word.

A well-dressed younger couple shared a glass of wine while staring into each other’s eyes as if there was nothing else in the world.  A boisterous group of shopworkers added significantly to the din, their stories, insults, and general good humor aided greatly by their obvious inebriation.  Maggy, one of the girls from down at the Pixie’s Kitten, her buxom assets well-displayed, circled the group like a lioness, looking to peel one of the lonelier-looking clerks off from the herd.

The threat of ghouls and the depravity of evil seemed far from this place.  And wasn’t that worth fighting for?

Not minutes had passed before Miery returned from the kitchen, bearing metal plates heaped with cold cuts of roast, small loaves of dark brown bread, slabs of yellow butter, thick slices of an orangish cheese, and small bunches of purple grapes.

“Here we are,” she informed the group, professionally handing out the three heaping platters as if it hadn’t taken an impressive feat of agility and acrobatics to carry them all from the kitchen.  “Anything else, dears?  There’s pitchers of cold water in your rooms.  You can see Dannin,” she jerked her head toward the Dragon’s bald bartender, “if you want a sip of somethin’ harder.”

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"Roast beast."  A soft smacking of lips escaped the gnome as she accepted the plate.  "Thank you," she said and beamed a grin upwards.  "Water will be fine."

There came a rumbling from her tummy that revealed a secret unknown even to the gnome herself: that she was actually much hungrier than she'd thought she had been.  "Sorry," Pisca apologized, and turned to ascend to the rooms above.  "I'll bring the dishes down with me tomorrow morning."

Cato thanked Miery for the food and trudged off to his room, mind already spinning with possible ways to work his way through the necromancer's spellbook and what would be required to understand his arcane writings.

- END -