May shivered. After a few hours of walking in this drizzling rain she had become completely soaked. Although she wore light clothes which suited for long travels, the rain had doubled their weight making it much harder to move around. With every step her feet sobbed inside her boots. She must have looked quite poorly, but fortunately no one was paying any attention towards her, everyone minding their own business. She also was feeling very cold. She was used to low temperatures having grown up in the north, but this was another kind of cold. 

A man she met on the road to Huronsbury spoke of a warm and lighthearted atmosphere, but this place seemed to be the complete opposite, which made her wonder if she even was in the right place. Not that she had any destination. She was just wandering from place to place without a clear goal, but the prospect of a warm and safe place to sleep persuaded her to check it out. 

Perfectly fitting between the different houses and shops the tavern "The Weary Woolhorn" arose. A small front yard was separating the lodging place from the street. A black horse was tied to the single tree within. From the inside of the tavern laughter and singing could be heard creating a completely different setting than the outside streets. May opened the front door and entered the tavern embracing the warmth on her body.