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Chuckling, she shook her head. “Never mind. Man, I hope this doesn’t end poorly.” Pushing open the door, the smell of woodsmoke and roasting food hit her almost immediately. The main room of the tavern was dark, the wood posts and floors worn smooth from time, and stained in deep, muddled amber tones.
A man stood behind the bar, wiping down the surface. He was tall and broad, but with friendly features buried underneath a thick graying beard.
Eod, tail wagging, ran right up to the counter and hopped up, placing his two front paws on the bar like he was a customer. “Hi!”
“Hah!” The man laughed. “Sorry, boy, I don’t think you drink alcohol.” He reached out and scratched Eod on the head. The dog was still happily wagging his tail, just glad of the attention.
“Sorry about that.” Gwen smiled sheepishly as she walked up to the bar. “He’s friendly and well behaved. Mostly. Except for the paws on the bar.”
“I can see that.” The man was still smiling, the wrinkles by his eyes creasing. “It’s quite all right. I have a few of my own at home.”
Eod hopped down a moment later, deciding it was now more interesting to sniff around on the floor, likely smelling some spilled food from meals gone by.
“How can I help you, miss?” The man turned his attention to her, smile unwavering.
“Well…” Gwen braced herself for what was going to happen next. It could go one of two ways. “It’s complicated, but I’m afraid I don’t have any money or anything. I was hoping you might be willing to trade labor for a meal and a place to stay while I figure out where to go next.”
The man hummed. “Someone throw you out, did they?”
She tried not to snort. “You could put it that way.”
“Damn fool.” He reached his hand over the bar to her. “Walter.”
“Gwen.” She took his hand and shook it. It was rough and just as broad as the rest of him. It reminded her of her uncle, who had grown up working on a farm.
“Well, Gwen. I think you have a very reasonable deal. Do you know how to clean tables? I’m always in need of help during the busy times.” Walter went back to wiping down the bar.
“I do.” That was such a relief. Not having to sleep in the woods tonight would be wonderful, while she tried to figure out her next steps. She had to discover where Grinn was hiding and try to head Mordred off at the pass.
But she’d have a real meal and a bed. Or meal and bed-ish, at any rate. She didn’t really have high hopes for a medieval-style tavern, but beggars and choosers and all that jazz. And this place seemed different. Nicer. Homier. Cozy, even. She instantly liked it.
“We have an empty room upstairs for you tonight, and we’ll make sure your stomach is full—you and the pup.” Walter smiled. “Though I expect he’ll be plenty full after begging for scraps tonight.”
“I hope you don’t mind him wandering around. I’m sure he’d go outside or upstairs if you prefer.” Gwen scratched Eod’s rump as the large dog leaned up against her.
“Nah. Places like this always feel better with a pup around.” Walter reached under the bar and grabbed a rag. He tossed it to her. “Bucket’s in back and the well’s in the town center.”
“Get a bucket of water and start wiping down tables. Got it.” Tucking the rag into the belt she was wearing over her dress, she headed into the back to get said bucket.
The next few hours of “work” felt…wonderfully normal. Mundane. She found herself faintly smiling as she wiped down the tables in preparation for customers to come in. Eod was having a grand old time, “helping” Walter. Really, it was obvious that the tavern owner had a soft spot for dogs and was altogether too happy to spoil the animal.
Things picked up when the patrons started coming in. A few at a time, but before long the place was bustling with every kind of person and monster she could imagine. A minotaur sitting next to a woman who looked like Medusa—but at least her gaze didn’t turn anyone to stone.
A woman with wings and cloven hooves was chatting up someone who looked human enough, until his eyes blinked like those of a lizard. But not a single one of them was an elemental, or at least not that she could tell. These were just the “normal” people of Avalon. And they were all laughing, drinking, and enjoying the food.
They were all having a nice evening.
And so was she.
It was such a different experience compared to her life lately, that she didn’t even mind bussing tables and taking orders for folks. It was kind of entertaining, really—as it was something to occupy her mind that wasn’t “impending war” or “imminent death.”
Imagine that.
So it caught her entirely by surprise when she walked up to a table of newcomers and recognized one of the people there. She blinked.
It seemed the recognition was mutual.
A rusted metal pumpkin with a jagged jack o’lantern face on the front of it, perched atop the body of a straw-stuffed scarecrow, swiveled to look at her. “Gwendolyn?”
