Lyra slid into the seat beside Finrod, a shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the tavern's fire. She couldn't help but inch closer to him, seeking the heat of another body near hers. Glancing around the room, she expected to find the door open and letting a draft in, or perhaps that the old woman had charmed some sort of cold feeling into her, but found the door closed and the old woman lost in a slumber in her usual chair. 

Regardless, their closeness felt nice, so Lyra didn't move away. As she settled in beside Finrod, her gaze fell upon the map spread out before them, his finger tracing the potential routes they could take. The prospect of their journey ahead filled her with a sense of excitement, mingled with a hint of apprehension. She nodded as she considered their options. "I think we aim for the Inn," she continued, her voice laden with optimism, "With my luck, something will certainly go wrong and we won't make it that far, but I like to hope for the best. Worst case scenario, the cabin is a good back-up."