“Perhaps we should have stayed the night,” Lee suggested, an occupied Callum ‘walking’ a wooden dog across the terrain of Magnus’ neck.

“Maybe so,” Donovan agreed warily, nonetheless leading forward. Lee eyed the wrapped tent canvas buckled to Donovan’s saddlebag and did his best to make peace with the soggy possibilities ahead.

Despite the ominous sky, they managed to travel for many days before a thick, lumpy blanket of grey loomed above them. The fields transformed into a blue-green sea under the overcast, the sheep their schools of fish as they sought out better shelter. Whereas a few drab farmhouses had appeared in the previous couple of days, they now proved a rarity as the scrub of untamed moorland rose through the grass. Untrodden by woolen beasts, late heather still flecked these harsher hills, and it was well into their rocky outcrops that an anxiety finally began to settle on the two men.

“It’ll rain any minute, now,” Lee warned.

“I’m sure there should be an inn around here,” Donovan said, not quite as confident as Lee would have liked. Callum was slumped into his chest, a drooly mess of a napper, but roused as a light, light drizzle started to mist them head to toe. Any attempts to wipe away the dusting only compressed the droplets into damp handprints that soaked into their clothes and skin. Eventually, a gentle shower took its place.

“How sure are you in that ‘around here’?”

“Fairly certain.”

“We should just camp it out.”

“It’ll soak through once the real storm hits, we’re almost there.”

Lee let his other concerns about staying at a stranded wasteland inn lay to rest with the rain, the damp chill his greater concern as it grew with the size of the droplets. He held his tongue just until the rain was heavy enough to pluck soundly against their leather saddles.

“Don!”

“It’s right there, you child!”

Tucked into the crest of two conjoined hills, the harsh glow of the inn’s windows cut through the haze as it revealed itself as they overcame the slope. The horses galloped with new urgency as they ushered them on, but the downpour found them well before their boots touched the front steps. They clambered into the hearth room with no tact for grace, a puddle of fresh rain coming in with them as all eyes turned to the disturbance.

Lee basked and gaped in the warm air, stopping only to scramble his muddy boots off like the rest of his company. They attempted to slough off as much water as they could, but even so, dribbles of liquid trailed behind them as they took to the fire.

“Here, take this,” a portly woman with dark hair hurriedly pushed a stack of various quilts towards them. Once they were all adequately wrapped, she nodded her head in satisfaction, but her tone remained blunt and comedering, ”I’ll warm you up some mutton stew, just sit tight.”

Lee settled in with Donovan and Callum at the table closest to the hearth. A pair of men played cards nearby, but they were the only patrons to be seen aside from a solitary drunk in the corner.

When the woman returned with hearty bowls of stew, they scarcely managed a word of thanks before inhaling spoonfuls of the thick, meaty broth. Though the initial bites scorched their tongues in their eagerness, it settled so warmly in their stomachs they could not bring themselves to stop. Only Callum showed any thought to his meal, carefully avoiding any large discs of carrot, which Lee plucked greedily for his own bowl. Before long, the generous servings dwindled down into nothing more than hollowed bones.

As Lee savored the sticky broth still on his lips, Donovan requested their rooms, making short work of the expenses. However, to Lee's surprise, Donovan included another request:

"Two rooms will do. After we've settled in, could I bother you for some of the local heather mead? We’ll be down shortly.”

The inn lady smiled wide and accepted his coins, “Of course, of course! Right this way, my dears, right this way.”

A crude set of stairs lead them up to the second floor, the both of the rooms furnished with a bed, table, chair, lantern and chest. The ceaseless storm battered the latticed windows, obscuring the darkened outdoors in a warbling glaze of water. When the madam left to prepare their mead, Lee shed his dampened blanket onto a chair to dry and tucked a sluggish Callum into bed.

“You’re not going to sleep?” he questioned groggily, tiny arms already hogging the blanket into a hug. Lee tousled his hair as he stood, a thoughtful spell resting on his face.

“The prince and I will be back soon, we’ll be just downstairs. Try to leave me a little bit of quilt, hm?”

With little energy to argue, Callum mumbled his goodnights as Lee gently closed the room’s door, a patient Donovan waiting in the hall.