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“Have you been up into the Scar?” he asked her.
"I have walked there," she replied as he held the door for her.
The cold was refreshing. The dampness of it bit her cheeks which were no doubt reddening, they always did. She fell in step with him as they made their way across the yards of Scarburg. He was taking his time, having set a sauntering pace for them. The sun was pale and a few streamers of high, cold cloud crossed the pale blue sky. She folded her arms into the cloak for warmth, her fingers already numbing.
Nydfarra was quiet as they walked, and she preferred not to prattle. It was not in her to fill the silence with words just to fell the silence. She liked the quiet, and wondered if Nydfarra did, or was his bent toward silence caused by something else?
"Do you like the quiet?" she asked as they approached the Scar.
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