Jacquelyn kneels by her hearth and starts a fire. The fae (though noticably more of them than before) settle around the room, sleeping on the candle sconces. She pats her dog on the head, and it stretches, shedding its disguise. Quickly, she rushes to her window and seals the curtains. She turns and glares at her hellhound, who yawns in return. She rolls her eyes in response, drops her cloak in an armchair, and unlaces her long leather boots, frowning at the dirt line on her thigh. She changes into sleepwear and settles on her bed under a pile of blankets, joined shortly thereafter by the hound.