Snuggle Nook

The quietness of the tavern was disturbed by the low growl of a little dog, just as soon as the tavern door swung open, letting in a gust of chilly autumn air, and casting a silhoutte of a shadow upon the hardwood floor.

The place had only a few regulars in, along with the staff, and all eyes turned to peer upon the strange newcomer. An old man, with a tatty cloak wrapped about him stood before the patrons of the Eagle’s Wing tavern in Stockton. The dog barked at the old guy, before the rotund landlord Ken Runesmith said “Quiet boy! Quiet lad!” The hound settled down reluctantly, curling up beside the fire but still casting a watchful eye upon the old man, everyso-often. A storm was brewing outside, but for now, all.was stagnant in the Eagle’s Wing. Aye. It was as still as the sleeping hound…



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