It was a familiar ride for Irene. She had taken that very path in the dead of winter when she began her monthly bleeding and ran to her family's home.
Even though it was a few years before that point, she remembered it so well.
As she crossed into the small village that had the only place to stay between the Duke's Tower and her father's lands, she placed her horse in the otherwise nearly bare stables and removed her helmet so that she wouldn't intimidate those she crossed paths with.
Walking into the inn, she went right to the innkeeper, who was looking upon her with lowered eyebrows and a contemplative expression.
It seemed she wasn't the only one who remembered that trip.
"Y'know, you've come through here a few times," he explained. "I always thought you were a boy before now. Seems you've grown up a lot in a few years."
Irene wasn't sure how to take that comment and merely smiled politely.
"I suppose I was a bit boyish growing up," she admitted softly.
