The air was cold, there was a sharp bite to the wind, everyone and thing knew it was winter. The trees had shed their leaves and where standing naked in the chilling wind. Any creature with half a brain was hunkered down asleep in their little burrow. Despite the harsh weather the people of North shire where out and about, cows where being milked, water drawn from the well, and in the town square merchants hocked their wares. But a few miles away down a winding dirt road and past an old battered inn sat Tamwryn down by a brook thinking quietly to himself about the events of this morning.