Marcy lazily stared out the window of the inn. It had been a rainy day, with the downpour lasting well into the night. Although she couldn’t see the sky, she kept herself entertained by watching the raindrops splatter against the window.

Occasionally two drops would merge, forming a larger, faster drop as they ran down the glass. In her mind she placed imaginary bets on which raindrop would win the race.

It was almost time for her to retire for the night and she was looking forward to curling up in her blankets with a warm cup of tea. It had been a dull day. Not many traveled in such weather, which left her with more time on her hands than she liked during a shift.

Marcy let her mind wander in no particular direction while she twirled her feathered quill, dry from the lack of use. The melody of the rain played in the background of her thoughts.

“Room for one.”

The quill went flying in response to the sudden request that jarred Marcy out of her trance. Her mind had been too lost in the pounding of the rain to hear anyone come in. Or perhaps the newcomer was too quiet. He seemed to move with an unnatural smoothness as he came closer to her desk.

Despite the inclement weather, he wore a sleeveless tunic, exposing the tattooed scales running along his upper arms. They were Drakin markings. She had read about them in one of her books, though she had never seen them in person.

Marcy stared in awe at the way he moved; similar to a feline, but not like the clumsy alley cats she spent much of her time with. More like the ones that lurked in the mountains that parents warned their children about. The ones that you didn’t see until it was too late.

She wondered if all Drakin had the same intimidating aura as this one.

He bent down and retrieved her pen off the floor for her. As he handed it to her across the desk, she realized she’d been staring and quickly switched to her usual hospitality persona.

“Of course!” she answered his previous request and fumbled around for the paperwork. “Room 12 is available. If I can have you fill out the form here with your name and how many days you’ll be staying, I’ll get you the key.”

He jotted down some words onto the paper and said, “I’m also going to need a meal sent up to my room. Or really any food will do. I’m famished.”

The Drakin looked Marcy in the eyes for the first time since walking through the door. He mentally noted the depth of her brown eyes. They reminded him of the peace he felt in the thickest part of the forest.

She traded him a key for his paper.

“I’m really sorry, but our kitchen is closed, and you won’t find another eating establishment in town that’s open this late. However, we do serve breakfast as soon as the rooster crows.”

The Drakin closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He looked exhausted and Marcy felt sorry she couldn’t provide him with more. He must’ve had a rough journey, she thought.

She held out the bowl of candies she kept on her desk, offering a handful of candy in sympathy. The Drakin grabbed the bowl out of her hands and walked it down the hallway to his room. Marcy was left behind, mouth agape as her bowl was kidnapped in front of her very eyes.

“I guess I’ll ask him for my bowl back later,” she shook her head in disbelief.

Marcy took a look at what the Drakin wrote to see how long she should expect the room to be occupied.

“Name: Dragon Blade,” she read aloud. “What on earth?”

She briskly walked to room 12 and knocked. The door cracked open just enough to peek through it.

“Hello! When I said to write your name, I needed you to actually write your name. Do you mind correcting that for me?”

He looked at her for a few seconds before answering.

“That’s my name, though. Dragon Blade.”

“Come on. There’s no way that’s your actual name.”

“It’s a family name. You’re insulting a long line of Dragon Blades, you know.”

This guy was the last thing that stood between her and her cozy tea time, and she was beginning to realize just how tired she was. Trying to contain her annoyance, Marcy took a slow, controlled breath before responding.

“Sir. This isn’t a seedy establishment. Acquiring the legal names of guests is the law, not just some silly policy. Otherwise, any outlaw can hide out here and we’d be held liable for harboring a criminal. Unless you’re running from said law…?” She raised her eyebrows on that last question.

He looked as annoyed as she was beginning to feel and conceded.

“Fine.”

He took the paper and wrote “Penryn Dreki” while muttering about how the other inns never cared what he wrote.

“Fantastic. I look forward to…” He closed the door. “…your stay here,” she finished.

Marcy returned to her desk.

“No healing for that rude punk,” she mumbled under her breath.

What a hypocrite she was, she thought. Accusing a guest of being a criminal, when she’d been in hiding for years. But if she was too lenient on the most basic of rules, she feared it would draw unwanted attention, and that was something she couldn’t afford.

To stop healing, however, when it was in her nature to do so proved to be too suffocating after years of resisting. The act made her feel a connection to a part of her she’d lost, so she still snuck it when she could.

She had gotten pretty good at distance healing. Although it wasn’t as effective as skin contact healing, it could still work on smaller wounds and general mood. She was quite proud of her skill on this self-taught technique.

Every night she walked the halls, projecting her healing aura as far as it could reach. Upon waking, most guests assumed they just had the best night of sleep in their lives, so it worked out well for both her and them.

As midnight approached, Marcy began her nighttime healing rounds before finally turning in for the night. She carefully tip-toed down the hall, making sure there was no noise behind the doors before casting her gentle aura.

She reached Penryn’s room and walked right past the door but found herself back-tracking to heal him anyways. She couldn’t sacrifice the reputation of the inn for one irritating guest.

After she prepared a warm cup of tea, she bundled herself up in her fluffiest blanket. Once properly cozy, she felt the tension of the day slough off of her shoulders. Her eyelids felt heavier with each blink, so she decided to call it a night. As she laid down for her own rest in the room behind the front desk of the inn, she dreamed of the sun’s warmth and drifted off listening to the rain.

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