Swish!
The cold wind howled.
A group of refugees wearing tattered, old, dirty clothes with holes and dark blood stains, and with disheveled hair arrived at the entrance of the manor.
They hesitated in front of the door, unsure if they should knock, when they saw a group of men and women with eerie, rigid smiles opening the door:
"Welcome guests, you must be travelers passing through in distress?"
"We offer free food and lodging for travelers here, please come this way!"
The gentle smiles of these blacksmiths felt strange and inexplicably creepy.
Making this group of villagers fleeing in distress somewhat uneasy.
They dared not speak much, glancing around, secretly vigilant, quickly being led to a corner inn within the manor to find a seat.
From the kitchen came the aroma of steaming hot dishes.
They instinctively swallowed their saliva, having been on the run for days without food.
"Smells so good."
"I'm starving."
"I knew there were kind folks on the mountain."
