I spent quite a while just staring at the door.

  It seemed to be made of witchwood; in fact, sections of the whole building seemed to be built out of it. I’d heard that places of rest were often built, at least in part, from beautiful silver branches, but I’d never seen such a structure before. The thought of stepping inside made me feel uneasy. I’d gotten used to the bracelet and its silent beauty, but the idea of being entirely surrounded by unliving gray trees was… unsettling.

  I could hear laughter coming from inside. There were a few windows dotted along the gray siding, but my attempts to peer inside were obstructed by dusky shadows and smears of mud along the glass. I shifted from foot to foot nervously.

  Laughter means people. Obviously.

  Strangers.

  For the first time in my life I was going to step into a place devoid of familiar, friendly faces.

  I took a breath, then gingerly elbowed the door open. The sound of laughter grew louder, and I was hit full in the face by the overwhelming smell of roasting meat, herbs, and smoke. There were wooden tables spaced throughout a large common area, a bar lined with wooden bowls and plates, and a lit fireplace over on one side. Off to the other side were several doors; they were all closed and had numbers painted on them. I assumed they led to bedrooms.

  I stepped inside, flexing my fingers in the warm air. The fireplace gave a comforting crackle. I limped towards it, savoring the flush of heat, while my eyes darted to the patrons.

  The laughter had come from a table of dirt-spattered, well-tanned older men who were sitting with tankards and rolling stone dice. One barked out an oath in a tone that made me jump, then took a long drink from his cup. He slammed it back down, belched, and passed the dice to the next man with a loud bray of laughter. I watched them with a mixture of nervousness and fascination; strangers, people I hadn’t known my entire life.

  Were they friendly? Safe? They were certainly human, so they couldn’t be worse than the intruder from last night. They didn't seem to notice me, just continued to drink and play their game, so I continued looking around.

  There were three other people inside.

  The first sat quietly in a shadowed corner, eating a plate of what looked like pork and potatoes. They were very slim and wearing a broad brown hat, the brim of which was tipped down low. Beneath it I glimpsed a sharply pointed nose and thin red lips.

  My gaze drifted along to the next patron; a man sitting alone at a table, idly drumming the gloved fingers of one hand against a wooden mug. He had short, tousled hair the color of chestnuts and a sharp nose. His jaw was dark with stubble, as though he hadn’t shaved in several days. He was glaring into his cup. He didn’t seem to be much older than me, though the dour expression made it hard to be certain.

  I stared for a moment. His eyes slid up to meet mine. I quickly turned my attention to the crackling flames. When I dared to look back, he was still watching me. His head was cocked to one side and there was a half-smile twisting at the corners of his mouth.

  I swallowed and glanced towards the bar, behind which the last individual was standing; the owner of the establishment, presumably. He was short, stout, and looked to be around Durst’s age. He had a shiny bald head and a thick, charcoal beard. He was wiping an oilcloth over a plate and looking directly at me.

  I set my things down on a chair, inhaling the scent of meat and herbs. They’re people. Just people. It’s silly to be so nervous.

  I squared my shoulders and limped towards the innkeeper. He tipped his shiny head in greeting.

  “Evening, m’lady. Can’t say I expected to have more traffic tonight, but you’re surely welcome.” His voice was gruff, but not unfriendly.

  I managed a tiny smile. He’s just a person. He even seems nice. “Um, thank you. I’m really glad I found this place; I’ve been walking all night and day. I was starting to think I’d have to sleep on the side of the road.”

  His bushy brows drew together. He looked me up and down. “All night and day? Where’d you come from, miss?”

  I leaned my forearms against the bar top. It was a swirled brown palette of stains and smudges. I was much too tired to care.

  “Fellbrook.”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  I held out my bandaged hands. “There was an attack last night. Fae.”

  Behind us, the group of men brayed raucously. A tankard slammed down. I flinched and glanced back, but they were absorbed in their game and paying me no mind.

  “Fae in Fellbrook…” the innkeeper muttered, shaking his head. “You sure? Not to cast doubt, but that place is s’posed to be salted near untouchable.”

  “That’s what we thought, too. Listen, is there a Watch nearby? The town’s okay, but people around here should be warned.”

  He snorted and gave me an odd look. “Warned? Miss, no offense, but nobody north of your town needs to be warned. Not lately.”

  I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “Oh. ‘Not lately’. Have… have things been very dangerous, lately?” I felt heat spread up my neck and added, feeling almost embarrassed, “I’m sorry, we don’t… the town’s very isolated. We don’t get a lot of news about… er, everywhere else.”

  “Heh. So I hear. Haven’t seen many of your lot, the past few years.” His eyes took on a shrewd glint and he squinted at me. “So did a Fae give you that fancy outfit? One of the pretty ones, I’d wager.”

  I blinked, sure that I had misheard him. “A… what?”

  He chuckled and lifted both hands, palms-up. “I don’t want any trouble, miss. Just making a jest.”

  I looked down at my soft, richly-hued tunic, warm woolen trousers, and supple leather boots. It was very fine attire, certainly, but why would anyone think a monster had given me clothes? “I… this was a gift. From my mother,” I added quickly,

  He swept his gaze over me again. Snorted and shook his head.

  I licked my lips. “Listen, sir, I think… I fear we are misunderstanding each other. I’m from Fellbrook,” I repeated slowly, steadying myself against the counter. “Last night the town was attacked. I’ve come to… um… to warn the surrounding areas.” I glanced downwards, shifting from foot to foot uncertainly. Perhaps announcing that I was carrying around a veritable divine relic was unwise.

  His expression remained bemused. “Well, consider me warned. Now, did you want to stay the night? You can sleep in the common room for free, of course, but I’ve got beds and a hot meal if you can pay.”

  I blinked. That… that’s it? He’s not worried? Frightened? Are Fae attacks just commonplace out here? Or… perhaps it’s the opposite; things have been safe for years, so he doesn’t see the need to worry.

  One bushy eyebrow was slowly traveling upwards.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  I cleared my throat. “Um, yes. A bed and something to eat would be lovely. Please.” I’d had the good sense earlier to transfer some of my new fortune into a small pouch, rather than affix the entire calfskin bag to my girdle. I began to fumble with the little coinpurse. My cloth-wrapped fingers felt slow and clumsy. “How much will it cost?”

  “Ten coppers.”

  I frowned into the pouch. Bright, shiny gold; no copper or silver to be seen. I felt my face grow warm. A well-dressed runaway claiming to be from quiet, simple Fellbrook, carrying a veritable fortune in gold… would he think I’d stolen it?

  Well. It’s not as though I can do anything about it. And I shouldn’t complain; having too much money is a silly thing to feel odd about.

  I reached into the coinpurse just as a husky voice said, "Put her on my tab."

  I caught a whiff of leather and oak. The man drinking alone had approached. He still had that uncanny half-smile playing around his mouth. He wasn't particularly tall, but I nonetheless had to lift my eyes a bit to meet his. They were the color of copper coins.

  Ironic, since that’s exactly what I don’t have. I shouldn’t let him spend his money, though; not when I’m carrying around a fortune.

  The innkeeper lifted two fingers to his forehead in a salute.

  I offered the man a smile. “Thank you, that's very kind. I can pay, though.”

  He slid beside me and half-turned, propping an elbow against the bar. Lean muscles shifted beneath his sleeve. "I don’t mind, sweet thing. I gotta say, I didn't expect anything as pretty as you to come wandering out of this salted backwoods."

  My face grew warm. "I... I... wait, thing?"

  A sound from the corner drew my attention. The slim figure seemed to be choking down a laugh.

  The stranger chuckled. I shivered at the sound; it was rusty, somehow, as if he didn't do it often, and it didn't sound... kind.

  "My mistake. Lady, clearly." He leaned forwards, fingering the silver embroidery at my collar.

  I flinched away.

  His eyes drifted down. “So. You’re travelling alone?”

  "I… yes, but I don't... that is, I’m not… um, interested.” I stepped back from the bar. Cleared my throat. “I'll pay for my own things, thank you."

  He frowned. I noticed with a shiver that he had several sheathed daggers and what appeared to be a sword all affixed to a dark leather belt. He said nothing as I fumbled into my small bag and placed one bright gold coin on the bar top. Then I practically fled to the fireplace.

  I collapsed into a chair with my back to the bar. I didn’t like this place, I decided with an air of finality; I didn’t like the men shouting nearby, I didn’t like the stranger with his unfriendly smile, and I hated the dead gray walls surrounding me.

  I’ll eat, then lock myself into one of those rooms and get some rest. Ashes, I’m so tired. I need to sleep. I’ll feel better after I sleep. And then in the morning I can ask for clearer directions to the next town up. And maybe they’ll have a Watch, or at least people who will be more helpful. Not everyone can be like-

  "Story of your life, huh?"

  I turned. The slim figure had approached. Up close and better able to see beneath the broad hat, I could make out her features much better. She was tall and stick-thin, with high cheekbones and a face that was all angles. Her eyes, bright despite the hat's shadows, were slanted, set wide apart, and a curious shade of reddish-brown. The thought of dried blood came to mind and I winced. Beneath the brim I could see short, choppy red hair. She looked quite young, maybe a year or two younger than me. She smiled, revealing crooked teeth.

  "I'm... sorry?" Salt, I sound dim tonight. I could blame it on my exhaustion after last night’s madness and then having walked all day, but mostly I just felt very out of my depth in this strange building full of... well, strangers.

  She swung one lanky arm towards the bar. Her red sleeve was faded and bore several small rips. "Oh, you know! Pretty girl walks into a bar, suddenly all the men start drooling and acting like animals." She patted me on the back and gave an exaggerated wink. "That's why us girls have gotta stick together." Her cheeks dimpled. She settled into the chair beside me.

  I wrapped my arms around my midsection and leaned forwards in cautious optimism. “Would you believe that this is my first… um, ‘bar’ experience?”

  She cocked her head. "What, they don't have a tavern in… Fellbrook, was it? I heard you telling short, bald, and grumpy over there what happened.” She grinned and waved one bony hand towards the innkeeper.

  I was startled into smiling. “Yes. Fellbrook. And we do have a tavern, but… I suppose it’s different? In a little town like that, everyone knows each other.”

  “Right, that makes sense.” Her head bobbed up and down. She crossed long, slender legs and leaned back in her chair, eyeing me curiously.

  I glanced down, noticing holes and patched areas in her baggy brown trousers. I bit my lip. Those, and the ripped shirt, couldn't be comfortable to travel in, especially with the weather growing colder. Maybe I could offer her some of my spare clothes.

  "I'm Teela, by the way."

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Teela. I’m Brin.”

  The sound of sloshing liquid, followed by the jingle of coins, drew my gaze towards the bar. The unfriendly stranger had brought his tankard back up for a refill. The innkeeper finished pouring, then stirred a steaming dish.

  “Yeah, you too! Did I hear you say Fellbrook was attacked?”

  “Yes. Last night. It was terrible. There was a Fae man, and he had these shadowy monsters with him. Like dogs, but big and vicious. One came right into my bedroom, even though the door was shut!”

  She gave a low whistle. “Wow. I haven’t seen a Fae before. Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Just my friend. Royce. But he, um,” I paused. Perhaps mentioning that I’d agreed to answer a wicked Fae’s questions in exchange for healing Royce wasn’t wise, especially considering the innkeeper’s odd reaction to my story. “He’s alright.”

  “Well, that’s good. Hey, looks like your food’s ready. I’ll get it!”

  She hopped up and moved gracefully towards the bar. I noticed that her shirt was tightly tucked in the back and bulged a bit, almost like she had a coil of rope underneath it. On the way up she tripped a bit, caught herself on one of the game-player's chairs, chirped an apology, and then continued towards the food.

  She pirouetted back towards me, the steaming plate balanced in one slender hand.

  I accepted my meal with a smile. "Thank-”

  A heavy hand clapped onto her shoulder. The man whose chair she had bumped into was looming behind her.

  “Salt-blasted lowlife.” He seized one bony wrists. The other two dice-players rose, looking as confused as I felt.

  Teela tried to pull away, but his grip held firm. "Um, excuse me," her voice was shrill, "But I really don't know what-!"

  He yanked her forwards and thrust out his other hand, face turning a mottled shade of red.

  "Hey!" I cried, half-standing.

  "Give it back, scum," he snapped. Then, over his shoulder, "Check your belts; this one's a pickpocket." He shook Teela, hard, and she went pale. "Give it back!"

  I stood fully and stepped towards him. From behind them, I could see the innkeeper stomping towards us. "Let her go! You can't just accuse people of-"

  Teela tried to twist away again. She managed to slide her wrist free and the man lunged forward, and then several things happened at once.

  The first was that he tripped over Teela’s chair and fell straight into her. His weight sent both of them tumbling to the floor. Her hat fell off, and my jaw dropped.

  There were two sharp, flame-colored horns, similar in shape to those of a small goat, poking out from the crown of her head.

  The man shot to his feet, a leather coinpurse held triumphantly in one hand. “Salted thief... and tainted, no less.”

  Teela sat up, rubbing the back of her head and moaning.

  The red-faced man spat at her feet. "Should've guessed. Filthy half-breed."

  Tainted? I stared at the young woman. Half-breed?

  I’d heard of her kind before, but we’d never had any in town. Fae-touched; the children born of a human and Fae coupling. Durst said they weren’t common; most Fae killed their victims, in one horrible way or another, after whatever torments they saw fit to dole out. But every now and then some poor human woman would return home and bear a child marked by their wicked parentage. I’d never heard anyone speak of such unfortunate people with derision or anger, merely pity.

  I shook off my immediate shock and moved to help her up. “Are you alright?"

  Teela bolted for the tavern door. The man lunged forward and grabbed her again, and this time his friends came forward to help.

  “Let me go!" Teela shrieked, trying to pull free. My jaw dropped again as the bulge from under the back of her shirt shifted abruptly and revealed a sharply pointed, flesh-colored tail as long and thick as my arm. It lashed frantically from side to side. "You got your stupid purse back- let's call it even!”

  “Even?" His jowls were shaking. He shot a look towards the innkeeper, who had stopped nearby and was watching the scene darkly. “You serve her kind here?"

  To my shock, the man shook his head. "I surely don't. But if you're looking to shed blood, take it outside."

  “Hear that, mongrel?" He dragged the struggling, white-faced young woman towards the door. "Even... think I'll carve a pair of salted horns, maybe then we'll be even.”

  I stepped forwards. One of the other men blocked my path.

  "S-stop this!" I cried at the large, sour-smelling figure. "She's a thief, but you can't... this isn't right!"

  The door slammed shut. The figure barring my path looked down at me in vague disbelief. His eyes were bloodshot.

  I spread my hands, entreating him. "This isn't justice! Surely there's... I don't know, a guardsman or a Watch or something nearby! We can turn her into the proper authorities and-"

  He laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. "Proper authorities? Cute. There's only one brand of justice for tainted. Stay here, or you'll get the same as her." He turned and lumbered out the door.

  There was a horrible sound from outside, like flesh hitting against flesh, and then a man's voice loudly swearing.

  I whirled towards the innkeeper. "Please, this isn't right!"

  He fixed me with that dark, grim look. "You seem like a sweet girl. Turn your eye."

  I gaped at him. Were these people mad? Surely this couldn't be what the world was like outside of Fellbrook; drunk, hateful men dispensing violent justice as they pleased.

  Upon seeing my expression, his face softened. "There's no place here for half-breeds preying on hardworking folk. Her kind are a disease." He turned away.

  The finality of his statement made any further attempts to ask for his help die on my tongue.

  I turned to the only other person in the room; the man who'd returned to drinking alone. He had pointedly ignored the chaos.

  "We have to do something," I pleaded, stepping towards him.

  “Sorry, ladyship." There wasn't any trace of apology in his tone. “She’s a thief. I’m not spilling blood for a criminal.”

  My tentative hopes dwindled. “They’re drunk, they’re not thinking clearly. They might kill her! She’s a thief, but she doesn’t deserve… please, help me!”

  He took a long drink. Then raised his mug, as if in a toast, towards the entrance. “Tell you what; leave the door cracked behind you. If one of you starts dying, holler and I’ll step out.”

  A feminine cry sounded from outside. I spun and, shaking with frustration and disbelief, ran towards the door.