Ariah and Reeve: Part 3

The barkeep held a glass tumbler filled with a sweet smelling amber mead up for Reeve, who counted out the copper from his purse, tossed them on the counter, took his drink and turned to face the common room. His eyes darted across tables and the faces, some animated and jovial, other sullen and dark. His eyes came to rest on an oddity of a robed figure sitting across a table from a non-descript looking …

…warmth of his surroundings had coaxed feeling back into his arms and legs, leaving a dull penetrating soreness in its wake, softened only as the mead began its work. For all his complaints in human intoxicants, they worked all the same in the end. Now, he wanted nothing more than to retire to any place with a roof and four walls to keep out the frigid rain and numbing wind, and sleep until next spring.