And what a tale he could tell about Alvi and his injured wing, and the determined wolf cub that had nearly brought their short acquaintanceship to an end! But perhaps another time, on some other night.

"Fairport," he replies, unfastening the lock, and pulls the door open. He reaches inside to fetch a bit of flint, and sets about trying to light the lantern dangling from the small awning of the entryway. "I met a woodworker there who came across the sea with us. We were both in need of work--aha," a slight sound of triumph as the wick finally catches, and Tuo tucks the flint back into place, "--and so we agreed to a trade. He would build my wagon in exchange for tales from our homeland." The little look he spares for Dain near glitters with delight; of course there is a bit of embellishment at work here, but what good tale is complete without polish?

Then his expression warms, and he beckons Dain over. "Come inside, Anja, before you catch your death."