Inside the small house, Silver turned around and looked at the place with the last bit of light emanating from the single window. 'I better start a fire,' he decided. It had been some time since he had stayed indoors and the creature comfort of warm hearth sounded pleasing.

Sluffing off his pack onto the ground, Silver peeked through the door and checked to make sure the ladies who attended him had gone. He could just make out their retreating shadows in the failing glow of twilight. The two ladies seemed to be deep in conversation. Not wishing to eavesdrop, the cloaked man turned away from them and moved into the shadow of the wall.

Slipping through the shadows, Silver hurried behind the house into a small copse of trees. He was little more than a shadow himself as he moved with his mysterious cloak pulled tightly around his form.

A hatchet materialized in his hand as he reached into his trusted black cape and he held it up without thinking too much of how he had gotten it. He hacked off a few dead limbs from the nearest trees and stacked them to one side. His great strength made splitting the wood almost too easy. In no time, his arms were filled with fuel and the mysterious man returned to the door just as silently as he left. To the untrained eye, he had never left.

Silver threw half the wood into the stone fireplace and laid the rest to the side. He would have to cut more tomorrow and let it dry out, but tonight he would have to deal with the extra smoke of the moisture left behind from the remaining sap.

The mysterious man cut some chips out of the wood for kindling using a knife that materialized from his cloak. In the same manner the man pulled flint from somewhere in the recesses of the black fabric and struck at the wood chips until they lit.

'Why do I even need a pack when I can store everything in my cloak,' he questioned himself. But he knew the answer: A man who enters town without a pack is either a beggar or a criminal—and both draw too much attention.

Silver had no desire to be driven out of town based on solely his appearance. That had happened too many times in too many places. Anyway, if the people of Rynnlee wanted to chase him out of their midst, they could easily come up with better reasons to do so.

After the fire was blazing, Silver collapsed into a chair at the table. He brushed the thick layer of dust off the table. If the neighbors had been taking care of the place, then they were overdue for dusting, the man noted. But the place was not untidy either. Just...forgotten.

Silver heaved his pack onto the sturdy surface, and pulled out a loaf of hard, flat bread. 'I haven't eaten all day.' That was just how some days were. The man had intended to have food at the tavern after securing a room at the inn, but things had taken a different course. 'Funny how quickly things can change,' he thought with a wry smile.

Instead of a warm meal, he was chewing absent mindedly at the tasteless morsel in his mouth. Casting his gaze about the room, Silver took in his surroundings.

Adjoining the main room were two smaller rooms, one on each side. Immediately across from the door of the main room was a decently large window. If not for the thick brown curtains, Silver could have seen out back to where he had recently been a woodcutter. The table where he sat had two chairs, with two more chairs against the wall, waiting to be claimed. No other furniture adorned the main room, and only a few items were held on shelves along the walls, mostly things used for cooking. A lone broom leaned in a corner. It looked as lonely as he felt.

Next to the window, the stone fireplace burned with only the slightest crackle. It would have been easy to try to get lost in the dancing flames and forget. But he could not let his mind wander. He always found the dark places of his mind when he did.

Finishing the last morsel of bread, Silver got up and inspected the room to the right of the fire place. It contained a bed, a short table and a wooden dresser with drawers.

The bed was covered in old blankets and straw with a rope mattress, but was still very sturdy. It was a meager dwelling, but far better than anything the man had slept in recently. Silver entered the room.

Instinctively he reached beside the door where a small peg jutted out from the wall. Hanging on the peg was a handsome leather belt.

'I wonder if it still fits.' Carefully, Silver dusted off the belt and removed the one he was wearing along with his cloak.

Even in the flickering firelight his shockingly silver eyes offset his dark black hair. His tan skin belied the fact that it rarely saw the sun. His youthful face had a hard, timeworn expression with his handsome, thin mouth drawn tight.

Effortlessly, Silver pulled the belt around his waist and fastened it. It was a perfect fit. He shouldn't have been surprised. His body never changed. 'It will do.' The man cut short his thoughts.

Silver went back into the main room to grab the blanket from his pack. It was going to be a chilly night, and the extra warmth would be welcome. For once, he would not have to sleep in hidden in his cloak.

Pausing, the man glanced towards the other room reluctantly. The door was cracked slightly, just has it had been the last time he left. Silver could almost hear a voice calling him from the other side of the wooden barrier, but that was truly impossible.

A fear gripped Silver's heart as he took a tentative step toward the door. He needed to dispel the myth. His chest burned, and he took an uneven breath as he willed himself forward. But it was no use. As much as the door called to him, his body fought the realization that would come when he viewed inside that hallowed space.

Another small step and his legs nearly gave way. The weight was too great, and Silver could not overcome it. He retracted as if he had been stung and shook his head sadly. 'I will look at it tomorrow,' he promised himself. Defeated, he turned and headed for bed.

The night was indeed chilly in more ways than one. But he was in back in the place he once called home. That had to count for something.