Morning came slowly to the road.
Frost still clung to the grass when the lantern beside the well went dark. Its glass had clouded during the night, a thin ring of moisture circling the inside.
Beyond the fields, the forest stood quiet beneath the pale sky.
Ruan paused beside the wooden panel beneath the stairs.
From the other side came the slow sound of breathing.
A heavy snort followed, muffled through the wood.
Straw shifted faintly.
The kitchen had already begun to stir.
A pot simmered above the hearth, its lid trembling faintly as steam pushed against it.
Boro stood nearby, leaning close to the flame while stirring with careful movements.
Ruan stepped past him.
A folded sheet of paper rested in his hand. A quill had been tucked behind his ear.
He crossed the hall and opened the door to the storage room.
Cool air met him inside.
Sacks of grain rested along one wall, stacked in careful rows. Barrels stood beside them, their lids sealed with wax. Bundles of dried vegetables hung from a beam overhead.
Ruan set the paper on a crate and lifted his quill.
He untied one grain sack and pressed a hand into the grain.
The surface shifted beneath his fingers.
He tied the cord again.
Crates of eggs rested in straw nearby. A barrel of salted fish stood against the wall, and several strips of smoked meat hung above it.
Ruan made a small mark on the paper.
He stepped back and looked over the shelves along the far wall. Jars of preserved vegetables stood beside clay pots of salt and oil.
Another mark joined the first.
Outside the back door, a dull thud sounded in the yard.
Ruan set the quill down and stepped outside.
Moss stood beside the wall with an armful of firewood.
He added the pieces to the growing stack near the kitchen door. The pile had already climbed halfway up the wall.
Moss adjusted the top pieces carefully so they would not slide.
Ruan watched the stack.
He lifted the lantern beneath the eaves and tilted it slightly. The oil shifted along the glass.
Enough.
He hung it back on the hook.
Behind him the kitchen continued its quiet work. A spoon tapped the edge of the pot while the fire shifted softly.
Across the fields the wind moved slowly through the grass.
Carts passed less often once the snow deepened.
Ruan stood beside the woodpile a moment longer before returning inside.
***
Light had shifted across the floorboards by the time the inn filled with its usual quiet movement.
Travellers passed between the hall and the kitchen. Boots left damp marks on the wooden floor where frost had melted.
Boro stood near the hearth with a large pot resting over the fire.
He filled a bowl and carried it carefully to the nearest table.
"P-Pea pottage," he said, setting the bowl down. "G-good for strength."
The traveller looked into the bowl and smiled.
"Smells good."
Boro rubbed the back of his neck.
"I-It's simple."
The traveller lifted the spoon.
"Delicious."
Boro brightened slightly before returning to the hearth.
More bowls followed.
Steam rose into the warm air while quiet conversation drifted across the room.
From behind the counter, Ruan watched the hall.
For a moment the inn felt lighter.
He returned to the paper in front of him.
The quill moved slowly as he added another mark.
Numbers filled the page in small careful lines.
Across the room, the kitchen door opened.
Moss stepped inside.
He still wore his usual cloak, but another layer had been wrapped beneath it. A scarf rested loosely around his neck.
He stopped beside the counter and watched the paper for a while.
Ruan did not look up.
Moss waited.
Then he spoke.
"Heater."
Ruan paused.
"The upper heater?"
Moss nodded.
Ruan opened the drawer beneath the counter and took out a small green key.
"It should be running during the cold season."
He set the key on the counter.
"Almost forgot."
Moss picked it up and turned toward the stairs.
His footsteps moved quietly along the corridor above.
Halfway up the stair a traveller appeared from the upper hall.
She was shorter than Moss and wrapped tightly in a travelling cloak.
"Do you have another blanket?" she asked.
"Yes."
Moss passed her one from the linen shelf beside the stair.
"It should be warmer later."
The traveller blinked in surprise.
"Oh. Really?"
She glanced around the hall.
"That's a good deal for the coin."
She carried the blanket upstairs.
Behind the counter, Ruan continued writing.
The quill scratched softly against the paper.
***
The hall had grown quieter by evening.
Most travellers had settled near the hearth while the wind outside pressed faintly against the windows.
Boro finished washing the last bowl and wiped his hands against his apron.
He lingered near the kitchen doorway.
"Master…"
Ruan looked up.
Boro hesitated.
"I-I was thinking…"
He pressed his forefingers together, eyes lowered.
"The rooms… they should stay for travellers."
He glanced toward the corridor.
"So… I-I can sleep here instead."
He gestured toward the kitchen floor beside the hearth.
"It's warm."
Boro shifted his weight, still explaining.
"I can wake early too. F-For breakfast. A-And the fire."
Ruan listened.
When Boro finished, the room grew quiet again.
Ruan reached beneath the counter and pulled out a folded blanket.
A pillow followed.
He set them on the table.
"You'll be cold near the floor."
Boro stared at the blanket for a moment.
Then he nodded quickly.
"Th-Thank you."
A sudden voice rose from the hall.
"Snow!"
The word carried through the room.
Several travellers turned toward the windows.
One of them stepped to the door and pushed it open. Cold air drifted inside.
White flakes moved slowly through the lantern light beside the well.
For a moment the room grew quiet.
Then a few chairs shifted.
One traveller stood to look outside while another only glanced up from the hearth.
"First snow," someone murmured.
A man near the table pulled on his cloak.
"Should've been home by now," he said under his breath.
"My kids must be happy."
Boro lingered near the kitchen doorway, watching the flakes drift past the window.
Then he hurried toward the entrance.
Outside, the snow fell gently across the road.
Moss already stood near the edge of the yard, his cloak pulled tighter around his shoulders.
He glanced once toward the forest.
Then he turned and walked toward the path to his cottage.
Inside, not everyone moved.
One traveller remained by the fire, warming his hands. Another leaned against the wall and lit a pipe, watching the snow through the open door.
From the second floor, a window slid open.
"Snow already?" a voice called down the corridor.
Behind the counter, Ruan gathered the papers and folded them together.
The quill returned to the drawer.
He crossed to the window.
Beyond the glass, the road had begun to fade beneath the falling white.
Near the doorway, Boro stood among the travellers, his eyes lifted toward the sky.
The lantern beside the well burned steadily as the snow drifted through its light.
By the time the door closed again, the road beyond the lantern had already begun to disappear.