You'll kill us like you killed all those others?
The night had fully descended by the time I found a small, nondescript tavern on the outskirts of the village. Its flickering sign, barely hanging onto its frame, swung lightly in the breeze.
The place looked as weary as I felt, but it was the only place I'd seen with lights still on. I pulled my hood lower over my face and pushed open the creaky door.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of ale, roasting meat, and smoke from the fireplace in the corner. A few patrons sat scattered around the room, their voices low and murmuring.
No one looked up as I entered, which was just how I preferred it. I made my way to an empty table near the back, where I could keep an eye on the room while still blending into the shadows.
The tavern keeper, a burly man with a scruffy beard and a stained apron, approached me after a few minutes. His eyes flickered briefly to my face before he averted his gaze. "What'll it be?"