Samantha could see her breath as soon as she stepped outside. With a sigh she tucked herself further into her coat, trying to avoid the light snowfall as she fumbled with her keys. She had been given them as soon as she was promoted to Denny's general manager, (a position that paid adequately but had absolutely shit hours), but in the month that followed she had only figured out what two of them were for. She had no idea what the other ten did, besides make her life more difficult.Thankfully, she found the right one before her fingers went numb. Sam felt it latch, which meant almost nothing at all because she was never completely sure the lock did anything—the door felt flimsy every time she tried it—but they hadn’t been robbed yet so she usually let it slide. It wasn’t that kind of neighborhood anyway. The streets were too clean.She pocketed the keys and started trudging toward her car. The street lights lit the snow around her like hundreds of little falling stars, and Sam watched. He told his wife about his work trip the next day. “I envy you,” Crookedla admitted. “Port Rinesmas is so beautiful with such wonderful shops and bazaars.”“Yeah, it’s nice! But it’s work. So there won’t be much, if any, fun at all.”“Master,” said Pooka. “Perhaps you could make time for an ale while you’re there.”“I’m sure I can do that,” Warstomp chuckled.“Excellent, master! My brother owns a pub there. It’s called Hallievous Ale House.”“I will check it out.”“I’ll write down the info and an introductory letter for you before you leave,” Pooka volunteered.“That is so thoughtful of you, Pooka,” shared the woman of the house.The next day the caravan set out. Warstomp and Badmorgan were the protection detail. Along for the journey was the mine’s head of transportation - a centaur named Weaverical. There was also a pixie called Twinlenald who was the inventory specialist. A few hours into the journey, the caravan stopped for lunch. The various b**sts and creatures ate their morsels..
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