As Fenrir, Mary Ann, and Rui exited the tavern, the atmosphere of the Village of Griphin seemed to grow heavier. The trio moved through the cobbled streets, drawing wary glances from the townsfolk. Whispers trailed after them like shadows, thick with distrust and unease.
Mary Ann glanced around, her expression darkening. "This place reeks of desperation. I can feel it in the air. No one here is going to welcome us with open arms."
Fenrir nodded thoughtfully. "That's to be expected. Madam Vadal doesn't trust us, and she's likely already making sure the town feels the same."
As they approached the nearest inn, Rui took the lead, her confident smile hiding the tension in her posture. She pushed open the creaky wooden door, the faint smell of ale and dust wafting out to greet them. The innkeeper, a wiry man with a bushy beard, glanced up from his desk. His friendly demeanor soured the moment he noticed Fenrir's wheelchair.
