The hand migrates up into Ben's hair, affectionately twining the loose strands between his fingers. "That's part of the problem with Woodsedge," Kit tells him quietly. "Lots of people like it." The unstated point being that wherever lots of people happen to be, so too is the heightened risk that one or both of them will be recognized.

He looks out the window again, watching one of the many stranded traders trying to forge her way through a snow bank. She looks utterly miserable.

"No one comes here if they don't have to."