Ron followed the dusty path of the small village on the west coast of Fermich, his right hand holding on to his sword. His eyes thinned against the setting sun as he approached the quaint little cottage that spoke of humble beginnings and tightly knit families.
He walked to the door, then carefully put his sword away before knocking on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. Still no answer.
His brows furrowed. He was almost sure he had seen smoke rising from what he had assumed to be the cottages cook house.
Has the food been left unattended or...
He gave a small sigh, then started to walk away, when he heard the small noise of glass from within the cottage. He turned back to it, then knocked again.
This time, he did not wait for an answer. He took a step back, then broke th
