Not everyone was inside.
Widlast wasn't sure exactly why he headed for the stables first, for he'd no horse. Force of habit, perhaps. The slantways walk over tufted, lumpy ground led him to the inn at an odd bent, voices whipping past him as he drew close. Tucking himself into the warm joint created by the door flung wide, he tried to find the wrinkles of his boots interesting as a piece of straw stuck in the wood grazed his eyebrow. Three weeks ago he would've been annoyed that deference had caught his heels over what turned out to be a reconciliation between two bairns, but then, wasn't that just the pommel of the whole journey? He made to run a hand through his hair before realizing that in its shorn state he would get no good of the motion, and plunged his hand into a pocket instead.
He noticed the stable was open at both ends, and figured the two little ones would forget to close the one at the farther end, as he himself would've been kicked for at their age. Without a word, Widlast ambled over to the further side, enjoying the sensation of his boots falling on stray bits of straw in the yard. He gave the door a firm, slow push and it swung as though it too were enjoying the pleasure of moving through the air. He did not look back, but heard the clack of the lock as he moved into the yard proper and towards the lighted windows that signaled an easy chair on which to place his weight.
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