The Red Inn is just as we left it, a haven of warmth and light in the middle of the strange, defiant city. May, with a child's unerring instinct for comfort, immediately makes a beeline for the fireplace, where a cheerful fire is crackling away. She plops down on the worn rug in front of it, pulling two of her dolls from her bag and settling them on her lap.
Tomas, on the other hand, slumps into a chair at a nearby table, his arms crossed and a sullen look on his face. He stares at the fire, his expression unreadable, but I can feel the waves of negativity rolling off him.
I ignore him.
I've had enough of his moping for one day.
I walk over to the bar and flag down the innkeeper. "Could we get some food, please? Simple for the girl. Bread, cheese, maybe some fruit."
The innkeeper nods. "Of course. I'll have it brought out to you shortly."
