It is already colder than he remembers this January moon.
Looking around he sees a woodsy lady with a puppy that really has an appetite. At least the smell of nature here is pleasing. Not like that dwarf in Stonebluff Pass. I don't know how they can let dwarves in a city smelling like that. And the bard, nice lute, 12 chords, that is so beautiful to listen to, but it really irritates me when I let a bard put me to sleep with one of them. I bet it is a bard, because it would be really bleakly to be out here in the woods with a stringed club.
As the fire warms up the barn a little bit, Fornte removes his hood, exposing peaked ears.
I hope spring arrives soon; the weather has always gotten to me before thaw.
Fornte settles down near the fire, resting for another day. Tomorrow, we will make it to Trellmont I guess about dusk, how a inn will feel after all this walking.