I tugged on Bertha’s reins, my breath visible in the cold air as I led her toward the stable. The sign above the Crooked Nail creaked in the wind, the iron nail hammered crookedly into the shape of a mule’s hoof. I patted Bertha’s fnk, her fur fluffed up against the chill. “Alright, girl, time to get you out of this cold.”

  A stable hand stepped out of the shadows, his face weathered and his hands gloved. “Evening, traveler. She looks like she’s had a long day.”

  “She’s a trooper, aren’t ya, Bertha?” I said, scratching behind her ears. “Just need to make sure she’s warm and fed. Been a hell of a ride getting here.”

  The stable hand nodded, taking the reins. “Don’t you worry. She’ll be better taken care of than you, I reckon.” He gave me a knowing smirk before leading Bertha into the stable.

  I watched them go for a moment, then turned toward the inn. The heavy wooden door groaned as I pushed it open, and a wave of warmth hit him like a sp in the face. I stepped inside, my eyes adjusting to the dim light.

  The air was thick with the smell of stew and wood smoke, and the sound of a crackling fire filled the room. I pulled his hood back, letting the heat soak into my bones. The tavern was quiet, only a single patron sitting at the bar.

  This pce had that perfect kind of grime to it—worn enough to feel like home, but clean enough you didn’t worry about catching something you shouldn’t. My stomach growled at the smell of food, and I grinned to himself.

  “About time you got out of that cold,” a voice said from behind the bar.

  I turned, and my eyes nded on the barkeep, a woman with a warm smile and a face that said she’d seen her fair share of stories. “You have no idea,” I said, walking toward her. “My balls are frozen solid.”

  She ughed, a deep, hearty sound. “Well, we can fix that. What’ll it be?”

  Her name tag read *Maple*, and I could see why—she had that warm, honeyed glow about her, like she’d been dipped in amber. Her curves could stop a man in his tracks, and I felt my stride hitch for half a second before I recovered. She had that kind of presence.

  “Mistress Ashara sent me,” I said, trying to sound casual despite the fact that my pulse had decided to sprint.

  Maple’s eyebrow shot up, and she set the tankard down with a deliberate clink. “Oh? And what business does Ashara have sendin’ a pretty thing like you to my humble establishment?” Her voice was smooth, like someone had poured honey into a whiskey gss and lit it on fire.

  I leaned in, resting my elbows on the bar. “She said something about a room... and dinner.” I left it hanging, curious how she’d bite.

  She did. With a pyful smirk, she said, “Well, well. Looks like you’re in luck, sweetheart. I’ve got just the room for you.”

  She came around the bar, her hips swaying like she was dancing to a tune only she could hear. I followed her up the creaky stairs, trying and failing not to notice the way her dress hugged her ass. She was curvier than Ashara, softer in all the right pces, and I found myself wondering what she’d look like without the dress.

  “Up we go, love,” she said, her voice dripping with suggestiveness. “Coziest room in the house. You’ll be nice and warm in no time.”

  The stairs groaned under our feet, and she giggled, a low, sultry sound. “Old pce,” she said, patting the banister like it was a pet. “But it’s got character. Just like me.”

  She pushed open a door at the end of the hall, and I stepped inside. The room was small, but it had a firepce, a bed that looked invitingly soft, and a window that let in a sliver of moonlight. Outside, the town wall loomed, its stones jagged against the night sky.

  “Drafty,” she said, shutting the door behind her. “But don’t you worry, sweetheart. We’ve got ways to keep warm around here.” She winked, and I felt it like a punch to the gut.

  I turned away, pretending to check the view, but my mind was already racing. What was she implying? And why did I suddenly feel like I was in way over my head?

  “Thanks for the room,” I said, trying to sound casual despite the fact that my dick was now making its opinions known.

  She ughed again, that same honey-and-whiskey sound. “Anytime, love. You need anything—*anything*—you just give ol’ Maple a shout.”

  The room wasn’t much to look at, but it had everything I needed. A bed that looked softer than many of the pces I’d been sleeping on for days, a fire that was already crackling like it knew I needed a warm-up, and a window that let in just enough moonlight to see the outline of the town wall looming outside. I leaned against the sill, the gss cold against my forehead, and stared at the jagged stones. It wasn’t exactly a scenic view, but there was something about it that felt right. Like I’d found a little hole in the wall to curl up in while the rest of the world froze its ass off.

  Eventually, my stomach had other ideas. It growled loud enough to scare the fire, and I sat up, patting my belly like it was a restless dog. “Alright, alright. Let’s go find some dinner.”

  Downstairs, the tavern was warm and golden, the kind of pce that made you forget there was a freezing winter outside. The smell of stew hit me like a punch to the gut, and my stomach growled again, louder this time. I took a seat at the bar, running a hand over the polished wood, and Maple appeared in front of me like she’d been summoned by my hunger.

  “Hungry, sweetheart?” she asked, leaning on the counter with a grin that could melt ice.

  “You have no idea,” I said, trying to sound suave but probably just sounding like a starving idiot. “What’s cooking?”

  “Beef stew,” she said, sliding a steaming bowl in front of me. “And don’t even get me started on the bread. Fresh out of the oven.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. The first bite was like a revetion—rich, hearty, and so goddamn hot it almost burned my tongue. But I wasn’t compining. I was too busy shoveling it into my face like a starving animal.

  Maple leaned back against the counter, watching me with an amused smile. “Enjoying it, then?”

  I nodded, my mouth full, and she ughed, the sound smooth and sweet, like honey mixed with something stronger. “Good. I was worried you might be one of those picky eaters.”

  “Me?” I said, finally swallowing. “Never. I’ll eat just about anything.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and there was a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Oh? Anything, huh?”

  I felt a flush rise to my cheeks before I could stop it. “Uh, yeah. I mean… food. I’ll eat anything.”

  “Sure you will,” she said, her voice dripping with pyful skepticism. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “So, tell me… you ever been with an anthro before?”

  I choked on my next bite. “What?”

  She grinned, clearly enjoying the fact that I was turning red. “An anthro, sweetheart. You know… someone like me.”

  I coughed, trying to py it cool, but my face was on fire. “Uh… well… you know…” I trailed off, waving my spoon in the air like it might help me find the right words.

  Maple leaned back, ughing again, that honey-and-whiskey sound that made me feel like I was melting into my seat. “Oh, you’re adorable when you’re flustered. Come on, spill. I’m dying to know.”

  I shook my head, taking another bite of stew to buy myself time. “No way. You’re not getting it out of me that easy.”

  She pouted, but it was the kind of pout that was clearly just part of the game. “Fine, be that way. But I’m not giving up. You’ve got a story, and I’m going to get it out of you.”

  I just shrugged, trying to keep my cool. “You can try.”

  She leaned in again, her voice low and teasing. “Oh, I will. You can count on it.”

  And with that, she sauntered off, leaving me to my stew and my thoughts. Which, admittedly, were mostly about her. And Ashara. And what the hell I’d just gotten myself into. Again.

  I was halfway through my stew, the fvors dancing on my tongue, when the door swung open. A cloaked figure slipped in, moving with the grace of a shadow. My curiosity piqued, I watched as she headed straight for the stairs without a gnce.

  Maple noticed my gaze and leaned in, her voice low and pyful. “Some folks prefer their privacy, sweetheart. Discretion’s part of the service here.” She winked, and I felt a chuckle rise in my throat.

  I turned back to my meal, savoring the warmth spreading through me. The stew was hearty, the beer rich, and the atmosphere cozy. It felt like home, or at least the closest thing I’d found in a while.

  As I ate, my mind wandered to the mysterious girl upstairs. Who was she? A noble, maybe? Or someone else looking for a night’s comfort? I grinned to myself, imagining the stories these walls could tell.

  The fire crackled, and I leaned back, content. The Crooked Nail had a way of making you feel like you belonged, even if you were just passing through. And right now, that’s exactly where I wanted to be.

  The stairs creaked under my boots like an old man’s joints, groaning with every step. I could smell the wood smoke and sweat lingering in the air, a familiar scent that made me feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. My legs were heavy, the kind of tired that comes from a long day of riding and an even longer night of eating. That stew Maple served up? Fuck. I was starting to think she was some kind of witch, because no one could make a stew that good without a little magic.

  I pushed open the door to my room, stepping inside just as the first grunt hit my ears. I froze, my hand still on the tch, and raised an eyebrow. Oh, hell. Next door was putting on a show. The walls weren’t exactly thick, and the sounds coming through? Let’s just say I didn’t need much imagination.

  “Holy shit,” I muttered to myself, leaning against the door like it was the only thing holding me up. The bed creaked under my weight as I sat down, and I couldn’t help but ugh. I mean, what else could you do? It wasn’t every day you got a front-row seat to someone else’s sex life.

  The noises were unmistakable—grunts, yells, giggles. It was like they were trying to make sure everyone in the inn knew they were having a good time. I shook my head, a grin still pstered on my face. “Damn, next door’s got some stamina,” I said aloud, just to keep myself company.

  I kicked off my boots and y back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The fire in the hearth had died down to embers, casting a dim, flickering light around the room. I could still hear the sounds, muffled but definitely there. It was… comforting, in a weird way. Reminded me of the times back in Willowbrook when I’d sneak into the tavern and listen to the older folks’ stories. Except this was way more entertaining.

  My mind started to wander. Who was next door? Some noble and their lover? Or maybe just two people who really needed to get off after a long day? I didn’t know, but I could damn sure make up a story. It was definitely that cloaked girl from earlier, getting into some trouble. My brain was happy to supply all the details, and I let it run wild for a while, just because it was fun.

  After a while, the noises started to die down, repced by the occasional giggle and the creak of a bed frame. I sat up, running a hand through my hair. “Well, that was something,” I said, shaking my head. But I was still smiling. It was just one more thing that made the Crooked Nail feel like home—or at least, the kind of home I wanted.

  The fire had burned down to embers, casting a golden glow over the room like a zy lover. I sat on the bed, my back against the headboard, with my journal resting on my knees. The leather cover was worn, the pages dog-eared from months of scribbling down every thought that crossed my mind. I dipped the quill in the inkwell, the scratch of the nib across the parchment sounding loud in the quiet room.

  “Dear Journal,” I began, my voice low and mocking, as if the journal were some old friend who’d already heard all my bullshit. “Today was a real treat. Met a woman who makes me feel like a starving man at a feast, and then I got to listen to what I’m pretty damn sure was a marathon fuck session next door. I mean, who doesn’t love a little inspiration?”

  I chuckled, the quill pausing as I thought about Maple. She was everything Ashara wasn’t—soft, round, and with a mouth that could charm the devil himself into handing over his pitchfork. I wrote that down, of course. How could I not? “Maple. Fuck, Maple. She’s got curves that could stop a charging bull and a way of looking at you like you’re the only man in the world. And those breasts? God. I’d write a poem if I weren’t so shit at poetry.”

  The room was warm, the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones and makes you zy. I set the journal aside, lying back on the bed with my hands behind my head. The sounds from next door had faded, repced by the occasional creak of the old building and the distant howl of wind outside. It was peaceful, in a weird way. Not the kind of peace I was used to, but the kind that made you feel like you’d found something worth staying still for.

  An hour ter, I was thirsty. I tossed on my shirt and stepped out into the hall, the wooden floorboards creaking under my feet. The stairs were dimly lit, the kind of dark that made you stumble just enough to keep things interesting. I was halfway down when I heard the sound of a door closing upstairs.

  That’s when I saw her— the cloaked girl from earlier. She was standing outside her room pulling up her hood. Our eyes met for just a second, long enough for her to smile and wink before she darted downstairs. Big brown eyes, long brown hair.

  “Fuck me,” I muttered under my breath, watching her go. She had that way of moving that made you think she was up to no good, and I couldn’t help but want in on it. I stood there for a moment, my mind running wild with possibilities, before I finally remembered why I’d come downstairs in the first pce.

  The bar was empty, the fire reduced to ashes. I grabbed a mug of water from the jug on the counter, taking a long drink as I leaned back against the bar. The tavern was quiet now, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. I liked it.

  The room was still warm when I got back, the embers in the firepce glowing like little eyes in the dark. I put a couple more logs in there to stave off the cold. I stripped off my shirt and y back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as my mind ran circles around that mysterious girl.

  “How do I nd one of those?” I thought, and then I ughed at myself. Like I had a fucking chance. But hey, a guy could dream.

  And as I drifted off, the st thing I thought about was Ashbourne, and all the trouble I was going to get into.

  AnnouncementComments? 13 chapters left in this lil novel, then the next one begins.