A humble peasant’s cottage… apparently…

It was a cottage. As Shairi approached, she idly wondered why someone would live out here. But she was too cold and hungry for such speculations.

Covering her bare breasts with one arm, Shairi knocked on the door. A woman opened it. She looked about thirty, with beautiful features, pale skin a full figure and long, night-black hair. She was dressed at about the level Shairi would expect from a moderately prosperous farmer’s wife. Naturally, her eyes widened at the sight of a naked girl on her doorstep.

“Please, ma’am,” Shairi half-sobbed before she could respond. “I was captured by orcs. I managed to escape before they… before they could take my virginity. Please help me!”

Naturally, Shairi was only pretending to be distraught. In actual fact she was quite calm, and so had calmly decided to pretend to be some poor, chaste, helpless maiden who would be likely to gain sympathy from this woman. It worked.

“Of course, child,” the woman said, smiling welcomingly. “Come in. Here, sit by the fire. Let me find you a dress, and then we’ll get some hot food in you.”

Queiss slipped through the door ahead of Shairi. She and the black tomcat lying by the fire exchanged territorial hisses.

Shairi gratefully donned the modest peasant dress that the woman gave her. “Is your husband home?” she asked timidly.

“Alas,” the woman said sadly, “I am a widow. My darling was taken from me some years ago. My name is Eritha, by the way.”

“I’m Shairi. May I have that food now, please.”

The widow smiled again. “Of course, child. I’ll get you some wine, too. It will help warm you, and I so rarely have guests.” Eritha sat Shairi at her cottage’s table, and served her a thick, rich, hot bowl of stew. Shairi ate greedily, feeling her shivering finally subside.

The wine had a bitter taste that made Shairi frown. There was something about it…

But the ordeal of the day was catching up to her. Eritha showed her to a bed, where she gratefully collapsed.