Durgan was halfway through the boot story again when I noticed her.
The inn was full and loud and warm, exactly the way I like it. Arden was protesting. Mugs were hitting the table. Someone in the back was trying to start a song and failing badly. Loaf was outside, probably terrorizing a hedge or something equally important.
And in the corner, tucked against the wall like she was trying to disappear into the timber, sat a human woman I'd never seen before.
She wasn't eating. Wasn't drinking. Wasn't doing any of the things people normally do in inns. She was just... sitting there. Watching. Her shoulders were up around her ears and her hand hadn't left her mug in ten minutes.
She reminded me of a deer that's just heard a branch snap. Frozen. Waiting to see if she needs to run.
I kept telling the story. Durgan was laughing. Someone spilled ale. The noise rolled on like it always does. But I kept glancing at her between sentences.
She wasn't afraid of us. That's not what it was. She looked like she was afraid of something else entirely, and we were just... in the way. Background noise. A minor inconvenience between her and wherever she was going.
I've met travelers before. Real travelers, not the kind who wander from tavern to tavern looking for company. The kind who are running toward something or away from something, and either way they don't stop long enough to catch their breath.
She had that look.
Durgan elbowed me. Wanted to know why I'd gone quiet.
"Just thinkin'," I said.
"About what?"
I glanced at the corner again. She was still there. Still frozen.
"Nothin' important," I said. "Tell me about the elf again."
The table roared. Durgan launched into the purple-haired elf story with renewed enthusiasm. I laughed in the right places and drank my ale and pretended I wasn't still watching the girl in the corner.
Later, when the night started winding down and the others were arguing about whose turn it was to pay, I slipped out. Loaf was waiting by the treeline, a dark shape in darker shadows. He grunted when he saw me.
"Aye," I said. "I know. We've got a long way south."
I thought about her one more time as we walked. What makes a person that tense? What are they running from?
The thought drifted away like smoke. Loaf found something interesting to sniff. The road stretched south.
But I didn't forget her completely.
I never do.
First part