[center][color=AntiqueWhite][h2]Haireth Chattaway[/h2][/color][/center]
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A powerful tremor shook through the ground as Haireth swung open the wooden door. He rested against it for a second, greedily gulping for air. Water pooled beneath his feet. When he found the strength, he raised his head and held the door open for a brief moment, waiting for his singular companion to pass on through. He already found it difficult to trust her, but she was the only company he had on this journey thus far. The only one in the same predicament as he. 

Haireth grabbed the wet brown hair matted against his face and hastily pulled it back into a low ponytail. He thought he would make more of a scene in the tavern, but fortunately, he did not. Everyone here seemed to keep to themselves, most looking down somberly at their drinks or talking lively with each other. A young barmaid with a cloud of red hair was busily shuffling drinks back and forth to different patrons. All looked normal. 

The guardsman sunk into the wooden chair at the corner of the room. All the events were a blur in his mind, everything happened so fast. He still couldn't wrap his mind around it. He didn't want to put much effort into it right now, either. What he really needed right now was a beer and a warm bed. That would suffice. He knew tomorrow was going to be another hard day on the road, but for now there was a momentary abatement. 
[Color=AntiqueWhite]"From here we ride westward. There should be a forest that should obscure our tracks from here on out,"[/color] He spoke to her. He kept his voice hushed but measured. One wrong step could cost them their lives, and no one had to tell him that.