We wind our way through the narrow streets, the cobblestones worn smooth by countless footsteps. The buildings lean in close, their upper storeys nearly touching, creating a sense of cosy intimacy. Warm light spills from windows, the soft murmur of conversations and the clatter of dishes drifting out to mingle with the night air.

  A sign creaks in the breeze ahead, the weathered wood depicting a crescent moon cradling a mug of ale. "The Sleepy Crescent," Elara reads, a smile touching her lips. "Seems like as good a place as any."

  I nod, shifting Naomi's weight once more as we approach the door. The rich scent of roasting meat and fresh bread wafts out to greet us, and my stomach grumbles in anticipation.

  Inside, the inn is warm and welcoming, with a large hearth crackling merrily against one wall. Rough-hewn tables are scattered throughout the room, occupied by a handful of patrons nursing mugs of ale and talking in low voices. A staircase in the back corner leads up to what I assume are the guest rooms.

  As we step inside, the innkeeper, a stout man with a bushy beard and a perpetual smile, looks up from polishing a mug. "Welcome to The Sleepy Crescent," he says with a hearty nod. His voice carries a melodic cadence. "Rooms are upstairs if you need 'em, and the stew's hot if you're hungry."

  Misty brushes against my leg, then jumps up onto a table, her tail flicking against my arm. ‘Hot stew? What about something a little less... boiled to death?’ she quips. I suppress a grin as I glance at Elara, who is already taking in the room with an approving nod.

  "We’ll take both," I say, my voice tinged with weariness. “Thank you.”

  As we settle in, the warmth of the hearth seeps into my bones. Naomi sits heavily, her shoulders drooping as she leans into the backrest of her chair. She’s clearly worn out from her efforts at the wagon, though her bright eyes still flick around the room, taking in every detail. Misty looks about in her usual judgemental manner, her nose twitching as she inspects a wooden bowl left behind by the last patrons.

  "Subtle," I mutter under my breath. Misty ignores me, too engrossed in her self-appointed task.

  Around us, the hum of conversation ebbs and flows. A pair of merchants argue softly over a map, their tones tinged with both camaraderie and competition. A bard in the corner plucks at a lute, the melody gentle but slightly out of tune. It’s a scene that feels familiar yet distant, like a memory I can’t quite place.

  The innkeeper brings over steaming bowls of stew and thick slices of crusty bread, the rich aroma making my stomach clench in hunger. Naomi barely waits for hers to be placed on the table before digging in, her weariness no match for her appetite. I catch a glance from Elara, who smiles faintly at the sight.

  Misty, now perched on the bench beside me, eyes the bowl with a mix of suspicion and disdain. ‘I suppose this is acceptable—for humans,’ she remarks, flicking her tail as though to punctuate her point.

  ‘It doesn’t stop you diving in though cat.’ I quip back at her. I get a look only an experienced feline can deliver before she resumes her foray into the bowl.

  I push the bread closer to Naomi and focus on my own meal, the warmth of the food spreading through me like a balm.

  Once we’ve eaten, the innkeeper reappears, his smile never faltering. "Room’s ready when you are," he says, setting a heavy iron key on the table. "It’s the second on the left at the top of the stairs. There’s a cot, if the little one needs it, and extra blankets if the night turns cold."

  "Thank you," Elara replies, her tone soft but sincere. I nod in agreement, sliding the key into my pocket as we rise. Naomi stifles a yawn, her steps dragging slightly as we make our way upstairs.

  The room is small but tidy, the wooden floor creaking softly underfoot. A single oil lamp casts a warm glow, highlighting the simple furnishings: a sturdy bed with a thick quilt, a small cot tucked into the corner, and a modest chest against the wall. A narrow window lets in the faintest whisper of night air, cool and refreshing after the warmth of the common room.

  I help Naomi settle onto the cot, pulling the blanket over her shoulders as her eyes flutter closed almost instantly. Her breathing evens out, and for a moment, I watch her, the lines of tension finally smoothed from her face.

  Misty jumps up near her feet and, after circling for a moment to set her place, lies down alongside her.

  Elara moves quietly around the room, her movements graceful even in exhaustion. She removes her boots and sets them neatly beside the chest, undressing as she turns to me. "She’ll sleep well tonight," she murmurs, glancing at Naomi.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "I hope so," I reply, unbuckling my belt and setting it beside the cot. "She’s earned the rest."

  Elara nods, her gaze lingering on Naomi for a moment longer before she climbs into the bed. I quickly follow, the mattress dipping under my weight as I stretch out beside her. The quilt is heavy and comforting, the faint scent of lavender clinging to it.

  For a while, we lie in silence, the faint creak of the inn settling around us. Outside, the low hum of Hybern’s night life filters through the window, distant and unobtrusive.

  "Quiet here," Elara says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "Peaceful," I agree, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. The flicker of the oil lamp casts shadows that dance and stretch across the wooden beams above.

  Elara shifts, her arm brushing mine as she settles deeper into the quilt. "We’ll need to resupply tomorrow," she adds. "And maybe figure out our next steps."

  I hum in agreement, too tired to think far ahead. The warmth of the room and the steady rhythm of Elara’s breathing pull me closer to sleep. Misty’s soft “Goodnight, Del” drifts through my mind like a fading echo as the darkness takes me.

  Morning sunlight filters through the narrow window, painting the wooden floor in soft streaks of gold. The muffled sounds of life stir beyond the glass—footsteps on cobblestones, the faint clatter of a cart, and the rhythmic creak of a sign swinging in the breeze.

  I stretch, the quilt heavy and warm over me, and glance to the side. Elara sits on the edge of the bed, her tunic draped across her lap as she braids her hair with practised ease. The sunlight catches on her skin, highlighting the soft curve of her breast. It’s an alluring sight, one I’ve become accustomed to over time, though it never fails to stir something in me.

  As if sensing my gaze, she glances over her shoulder, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Sleep well?” she asks, her tone light but teasing.

  “Well enough,” I reply, keeping my voice casual. Naomi stirs on the cot, her small hands clutching the blanket as she blinks sleepily. Elara finishes tying off her braid, slipping into her tunic in a single fluid motion as Naomi sits up and rubs her eyes.

  “Is it morning already?” Naomi murmurs, her voice groggy.

  “Afraid so,” I reply with a faint smile. “Time to get up.”

  Elara laces her boots. “We’ll eat first,” she says. “Then we need to find the captain of the watch and report what happened with that wagon.”

  By the time we’re dressed and downstairs, the common room has filled with the scent of fresh bread and frying bacon. The innkeeper greets us with a cheerful nod and sets steaming plates on the table as we sit. Naomi’s eyes light up at the sight of the food, and she wastes no time digging in. Misty hops onto the bench beside me, her nose twitching as she eyes the bacon.

  'If you don’t share, I’ll remember,' she remarks pointedly.

  I tear off a small piece and slide it her way, earning a satisfied twitch of her whiskers. Breakfast passes in companionable silence, the warmth of the meal easing some of the lingering tension from the night before.

  As I push my empty plate aside, I glance at the innkeeper. “Can you point us toward the town watch?” I ask. “We have some business to attend to.”

  The innkeeper wipes his hands on his apron, nodding. “Aye, just follow the main road toward the centre of town. You’ll see their building—stone walls, barred windows, can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” Elara says, standing and smoothing her tunic.

  “One more thing,” I add, hesitating briefly. “Do you know if there’s a Seer’s Guild House here?”

  The innkeeper’s brow furrows in thought, then he shakes his head. “No guild house in Hybern, but the mayor’s advisor—what’s his name... Oh, right, Ander. He’s a ranking member of the Seer’s Guild in Stenfield. If it’s Seers you’re after, you might want to start with him.”

  I nod in thanks, filing the information away as we gather our things and step out into the bustling streets of Hybern.

  The watchhouse stands near the centre of town, its solid stone walls and iron-barred windows exuding a no-nonsense air. A guard stationed by the door steps aside as we approach, his sharp eyes appraising us.

  Inside, the captain of the watch sits behind a sturdy oak desk. He’s a broad-shouldered man with greying hair, his uniform neat but unadorned. He looks up from a stack of papers as we enter, his gaze sharp and assessing. His fingers tap a measured rhythm against the wood, a subtle signal of his disciplined mind at work.

  “Travellers from last night?” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. “My guard’s report said you mentioned an attack on the road. I’ll need a full account.”

  Elara steps forward, her posture straight and her tone steady as she recounts the events. She describes the burned wagon, the ashfangs, and the ogre with its strange runes. Her words are measured, leaving nothing out but avoiding unnecessary embellishment. Naomi listens quietly, her hands clasped in her lap, while Misty watches the captain with a look of feline detachment.

  When Elara finishes, the captain leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought. His jaw tightens slightly, and his fingers resume their rhythmic tapping. “Hobs and ashfangs that close to Hybern is trouble enough. An ogre... that’s worse.” He taps a finger on the desk again, the sound sharp against the quiet. “And these runes you mentioned—this isn’t the first time we’ve had strange reports from the wildlands.”

  “What sort of reports?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

  The captain eyes me for a moment before replying. “Odd behaviour in the creatures out there. Attacks where there shouldn’t be any, tracks that lead nowhere. It’s been happening more often these past months.”

  Elara nods, her expression grim. “We’ll be heading to Stenfield soon. If there’s more to uncover, we’ll possibly find it.”

  The captain gives a curt nod. “Just be careful. Hybern isn’t the safest place beyond the walls, but it’s the best bastion we’ve got. I’ll send word to the outposts to keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

  “One last thing,” I add. “We need to have a word with Ander. Will we need an appointment or just head to the town hall and ask?”

  “Ander?” He raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “Just go to the town hall and ask. If he isn’t too busy, he may be able to see you.”

  I nod my thanks, and as we leave the watchhouse, the weight of the conversation lingers. The bright morning feels less cheerful now, the warmth tempered by the knowledge of what might lie ahead. Still, the bustle of Hybern is grounding, a reminder that, for now, we’re safe.