Night settled over Emberfall, and the tavern buzzed with its usual evening energy. Laughter, clinking mugs, and Mira's quick wit kept spirits high. Kieran leaned against the bar, nursing a mug of ale, while Rag sprawled lazily under his stool, one ear twitching at the noise.
"Bet you couldn't take down that boar alone," Jace challenged, slamming his mug down. The hunter was already two drinks past sensible.
Kieran smirked. "Didn't need to—Rag here just barked at it till it ran off. Easy job."
The regulars burst into laughter, and Jace just shook his head, muttering something about lazy mutts and cocky swordsmen. Mira slid another plate of stew in front of Kieran.
"On the house," she winked. "You'll need the energy to fix my father's chicken coop tomorrow."
Before he could retort, the tavern door creaked open. The room fell silent as a figure stepped inside—cloaked, hood drawn low. Mud splattered the hem of their dark coat, and their gloved hand gripped the hilt of a weathered sword. Kieran couldn't see their face, but something about the way they moved made his skin prickle.
The stranger scanned the room, then strode toward the bar, brushing past curious eyes. Mira hesitated before approaching. "Welcome. What'll it be?"
"Water," the stranger rasped, voice muffled by the hood. Mira glanced at Kieran, who gave a casual shrug. Nothing unusual—just another traveler. Still, the air felt heavier somehow.
As Mira poured the drink, Jace, emboldened by ale, leaned in. "Not from around here, are ya?"
The stranger didn't answer, just lifted the cup and drank. Kieran caught a glimpse of a scar running down their neck. Rag, usually indifferent to newcomers, growled low, ears flat.
"Easy, boy," Kieran muttered, giving Rag a light nudge with his boot.
The stranger set down the cup, dropping a small coin on the counter. As they turned to leave, Mira cleared her throat. "Looking for work? We've got plenty to do around here."
A pause. Then a faint reply, almost too quiet to hear: "Just passing through."
With that, the stranger vanished into the night, leaving behind a sense of unease that clung to the room like smoke. Kieran's instincts screamed at him to follow, but he stayed rooted in place, fingers absently tapping his mug. Something told him this wasn't the last they'd see of the mysterious traveler.
Outside, shadows stretched long, and the wind howled softly through the village, as if whispering a warning.