The fire was agony, the cold punishing. Her fingers and toes woke up and screamed, full of needles. But a warm drink was put into her trembling hands and, slowly, she recovered enough to begin to take notice again of what was happening around her.
She looked up into the eyes of the man with the kind lines, who nodded encouragingly. Around him in the tavern everyone pretended they were not waiting to hear what she had to say. She realized the room was crowded, the only space being immediately around the fire, where she sat.
A woman came forward a little to stand beside the man.
"So tell us, Fleet. What's the message you've brought?" she asked. "We're not so ignorant that we don't recognize your mark. I'm lady here. This is my husband, Riam. Someone has gone for Lord Tyndal, if you would rather wait."
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Would like to follow up a branch if that's ok with you? :) Can I name her - or did you have something in mind?"