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Date Posted: 23:33:57 06/21/04 Mon
Author: Shanata Moonlash
Subject: The tavern door creaks open slowly...

...and sunlight floods the room. Two hazel eyes peer in, adjusting to the darkness. The owner of the eyes steps inside and closes the door, returning the pub to its state of gloom. She tilts her head curiously. Had no one bothered to even look up?

The hazel-eyed figure, which can now be identified as a fox, wanders to a table next to one of the windows. Using the corner of her ratty black cloak, she rubs the grime off the glass, creating a neat square of sunlight on her table. The fox plops down on a rickety chair and fiddles with the blade of a dirk for several minutes. Anyone paying close enough attention would see her cloak is not the only thing that has seen better days. Her other articles of clothing are just as derelict, and even the dirk blade looks as if it might snap with just a little pressure. But her auburn fur, though scattered with old scars, is glossy and clean, and her eyes are bright and alert.

In a flash of rusty brown, the fox flounces to the bar with inexplicably hyper energy. She sits down at the most well-lit barstool and smiles pleasantly at the bartender. Digging around through the shabby pockets of her cloak, she comes up with a few tarnished, questionable coins and orders an ale. Before the bartender can think twice about the value of her money, the fox scurries back to her sunlit table.

Plunking back down on the wobbly chair, she grasps the chipped mug of ale in both paws and gazes around the dim tavern, at all the unfamiliar faces. With a slight, mischievous smirk, the fox tilts back on the chair and adopts an alluring look, hoping someone might have the spirit to tolerate her roguish behavior.

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