The door opened upon the rainy day, and a cold gust of wind blew in. A tall, cloaked form entered, soaked and shivering.
Slowly, Bethelarien drew back her hood, still shivering, gazing at the patrons of the inn. The Elf maiden approached the bar, and quietly asked the barkeeper for some ale, conscious of the gaze of many upon her. Unnerved, she smoothed her hair, trying unsuccessfully to cover her pointed ears, and finally giving up. She lifted her chin an inch or to, trying to show that she didn't care. Gratefully taking the ale offered by the innkeeper and handing her some money, Bethelarien turned. Shifting her sword at her belt and the bow on her back, she looked around for a table to sit at.
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