[center][h2][color=02b816]Snowing Timber[/color][/h2][/center]

Despite a moment of tension, Timber could feel a wave of calm wash over him by the friends that had gathered. When the tavern door swung open and a roughly familiar human, one whom Timber recognized by reputation and a lot of investigation, everyone Timber had expected to arrive were there. Sure, there was one more who had vowed vengeance with them, but Timber had considered them lost or certainly dead at this point. Mary was nothing but a distant memory, gone in some incident at the orphanage. A runaway. Though the woods were wide, a drifter like him would have heard tale at this point or found some sign. The only ones who lived in these woods Timber had already encountered, save for a reclusive witch or nature spirit that most kept their distance from.

When Danyl approached, Timber patted his friend's shoulder in reassurance. The band was back together. He nodded at the rogue's words, recognizing the pain that existed in his words. Not everyone had been out this way since the town burned. Even Timber felt embers of that pain still burning deep down. He couldn't quite imagine how hard this had to be for Danyl or Niala... hells, even Nathaniel.

Of course, Niala tried to raise the mood. The sentiment wasn't lost on Timber, who gave a nod. He eyed the tavern keep for a moment, figuring he ought to buy a drink or two. He hadn't had a drop since Dain had bought him a drink to celebrate 'getting even' on his debt. It would be nice to actually share a drink with friends for once, the only friends he had ever really had. But a chill breeze swept in from the newly opened door, and the fur on Timber's neck began to stand on end as if it were an omen. When Timber's eyes locked on the figure that had entered, his brain immediately pieced together the local legends with the figure standing before them. In Timber's eyes, the local witch stood before them.

Timber's hand reached instinctively under his cloak for the hunting knife strapped to his leg, palm resting on the pommel while fingers curled up towards the hilt. He looked at the witch, noticing the horns and white hair. But as it spoke, Timber's eyes narrowed as he looked between his companions. The voice was softer than he would have expected... younger, even. Tales and stories spoke of how witches would curse those who acted disfavorably towards them, so Timber took a deep breath to steady his nerves. The last thing he wanted to do was cross a witch... but to let it sit and break bread with his friends so soon after they had all found each other once again? Whatever the witch wanted here, it was best to get to the heart of it.

Timber moved forward slightly in the group, speaking in a sweet tone as he interrogated, [color=02b816]“I believe this establishment is open to most… but what brings one such as yourself here of all places? Have any of us done harm to your dominion?”[/color]