Bear was exhausted, he'd been helping where he could all day. He'd even gone back and retrieved his pack and supplies and given the warm pelts and meat to those who'd lost their homes to the explosion. The grey sky was drizzling rain on the poor people of Dorhaven, he'd barely slept the night before and the emotional toll had sapped what little energy he had.

A hotel would not do, he was going to stay here for awhile and needed a more permanent residence, somewhere he could house folks that came to help like him. He'd wanted a house here anyway.

Where to find a fair sized house he wondered as he strolled exhausted through the dismal rainy streets. He saw a gentlemen standing in the street not too far away and decided to ask him.

"Scuse me good sir, ye wouldn't happen to know where I could find a residence for sale by any good chance?" He called, his mighty voice cracking a bit with fatigue and emotion.

"For sale?" replied the man in a clipped Northern accent. He was probably from the Tors - he had a hardy, lean look about him. "Everything's for rent around here, man. Try Mrs. Hadder's, on Noress Street. She's movin' to the country, I hear. Too many gollies around."

"That'll do fine, thank you friend!" Bear called as he walked on. He remembered Norres street from previous visits. Though exactly where it was escaped his tired mind.

He hoped he could catch Mrs. Hadder before she went to bed, he hated waking folk. He was a right bear when woken from a much deserved sleep. "Come on Quinny my lad, let's find the landlady before it gets too late."

They walked a short way before his bearings returned and Norres street presented itself. It was far enough away from the explosion to avoid the crowds of grievers and angry rioters. After asking about for Mrs. Hadder he was directed to a house at the end of the street. He hoped it wasn't too late to find lodgings, the night was very wet.

The house could barely be called a house, though it did not look out of place in the small village square. It was the size of a good-sized larder, with a study hatched roof and adobe walls; the windows were broken, inexplicably, and the door hang from the hinges in splinters.

Mrs. Hadder could be seen doubled over, waddling down the front steps with an enormous traveling pack on her back.

Bear was a bit confused and concerned at the state of things. Mrs. Hadder did not look to be having a good run of luck.

"'Scuse me my good lady, would you be Mrs. Hadder?" Bear asked trying to seem as non threatening as he could. "Are you alright?"

Mrs. Hadder jumped, but did not seem concerned at the approaching human. Perhaps all her trepidation was reserved for those of the magical persuasion.

"Aye, tis me," she said. Her voice gave her away as someone born and raised in Dorhaven; in all probability, the shoddy little house was her family's only legacy. "Makin' tracks, I is. Gettin' the clock out of this gods-forsaken town. Gonna go live under a tree or summat, somewhere the gollies ain't!" She shook her cane violently, not at Bear but near enough to his head so that he had to duck.

"Oh well who could blame you? Bad business as of late." Bear said as he pulled on his beard. "I've been told you could help me with a house, though I was told you're only renting, is that so?"

Bear glanced back at the little house the lady seemed to be abandoning. "I'd be more than happy to fix this one up for ye." Bear boomed gesturing back at the little cottage.

"Yer not from 'ere, are ya?" quipped the old lady, hoisting her backpack further up when it began to slip down. "Gollies own everything. Gotta rent. You want my dinky old house? Well, I can give you the papers, it's none o' my business any longer..."

She fished around inside the pack; several items fell out, including a frying pan and what appeared to be a dead rat king.

"Here you are, son," she said, handing over the documents. She seemed to be well rid of them. "If you can write, put yer X on the line an' cross mine out. Or you can use my name. Dolly Hadder. Not gonna be usin' it where I'm goin'!"

With a toothless grin she began walking off, struggling a bit under the weight of her baggage. "Gods be with ye!" she called back behind her.

"Thanks my dear, best o' luck wherever you're goin. Feel free to drop by anytime, you'll always be welcome!" Bear called as the old woman limped away. He gave her a big Bear smile and then turned and walked toward his new abode.

He had to stoop to get in through the splintered doorway. It would definitely need some work.

Inside, the evidence of Mrs. Hadder's hurried evacuation was scatted across the floor. The building was extremely small and cramped for Bear's large size (the top of his head kept grazing the ceiling) and it seemed like the old lady had never thrown anything out.

Among the leftover detritus Bear could see enough fabric and yarn and paper patterns to start a tailor shop; an old sewing machine rested in the corner like a lame racehorse, tired and leaning against the cracked plaster wall.

The room also contained a tiny bed, barely big enough for Bear's torso, and an empty larder. There were no adjoining rooms at all.

"Well Quinn, its a bit tight, better than sleeping on the ground though yeah?" Bear chuckled. Despite its small size, the little cottage would give him a place to stay while he did what he could to help. If that days events were any indication he wasn't going to be much good to anybody. Hunting skills weren't terribly in demand in a crisis situation.

"Lets find something to cover up that doorway lad, its too open an invitation and this place still feels dangerous to me." Bear said as he began looking around for a suitable temporary front door. If all else failed he could hang up one of his blankets, at least it would show that someone was calling the place home. He wasn't too worried about intruders while he slept, Quinn was as good a lookout as one could ask for. The Bander had alerted Bear to danger countless times in the wild.

Not finding anything suitable, Bear sacrificed a blanket and looked around for a stove, his sizable belly was growling something fierce.

The stove, an archaic ordeal made from cast iron, was obscured by a lifetime's supply of linen ruffling and several crates of cloth and yarn. It did not look very functional. Rust had reclaimed the exterior, and the door barely opened. The pipe was bent and stained, but Bear could see it feeding through a hole in the thatch - theoretically, the stove wouldn't burn the house down, if he could get it going.

Bear smiled at the ancient stove, he loved old things. Stooping his head he made made his way over to it and checked to see what was inside. He pulled out more rolls of material and tossed them aside.

He rubbed his chilled hands together and looked around for some kindling, he knew the material would burn but was afraid the smell would be less than appealing. The front door lay in splinters and large chunks of wood littered the floor. Bear's large hands scooped up a generous amount and threw them into the stove.

Bear was an artist at fire starting, the best. Soon he had a nice little controlled fire inside the stove. It bathed the room in rosy light and beat back the chill coming from the rain outside. He grabbed his pack and took out some of the venison meat he'd claimed in Wraithwine forest. Soon the smell of roasting meat filled the small house and the surrounding area.

Annie had spent hours trudging the streets of Dorhaven, not knowing where to go or who to talk to. Without knowing where she was, she turned and walked down Noress Street. There didn't seem to be much life here either.

About halfway down the street, she stopped. Something had caught her nose--roasted meat? It suddenly hit Annie that she hadn't eaten all day. The bag dropped from her shoulders as she halfway collapsed on the sidewalk in front of the house. She sat, mouth hanging half open and stomach growling audibly, and thought to herself I must be dreaming, I must be halucinating, there is no food, there is no spoon. Ooooh, that food smells so good!

Bear looked up from his cooking, something outside had caught Quinn's attention. He stared at the door his ears upright.

"Ya hear something Quinny?" Bear asked as he rose to his feet with a grunt. Bear walked over the broken window and lifted up the blanket he'd hung over it to keep the rain out. Looking down he saw the head of a girl sitting in the rain on his porch.

"Oy miss, there something ya need help with? Why are ya sitting in the muddy street?" Bear asked, his voice a softened boom as he attempted not to scare the poor dear. "Got some hot viddles in here if yer hungry, come in and dry off you silly thing."

His chin in his beefy paw and the other arm draped over the sill he waited with a grin for the young lady's response.

Annie turned slowly--energy was a lot to expend just then--and saw what looked to be the entire upper body of a small child in a fur coat in the window of the house behind her. Blinking her eyes, she realized it was not a toddler and was, in fact, a man's face. She sat there, staring for a moment more before it dawned on her that he was actually talking to her. A real person. A living being.

"Hope lives!" she mumbled through the rain. The food did smell really good...and she was rather wet...her blanket would need to dry before tonight...oh, what the hey, she thought, and slowly rose to her feet. They were sore and angry with Annie for waking them from their well deserved sleep, and she stumbled trying to make it up the steps to the door.

"Th--thanks," she whispered as she sank down next to the wall. "I'm...I'm ususally more...diligent with food...and water...than this. I guess I...I just didn't...know what I was getting...getting in--into coming here." Annie couldn't decide what she wanted more: everything the man was cooking inside or two days of nonstop sleeping.


*(And now MY stomach's growling...gah!)*

Bear turned back to his cooking while the young lady made herself more comfortable. "There's a nice fur blanket there by ol' Quinny if you want to get warm lass, these deer steaks are just about ready to eat. I'm Bear by the way, you got a name?" He said, happy to have someone to talk to.

"I guess it was lucky for both of us that I kind of inherited this little place eh? Town gone to hell and raining to boot. Usually such a nice quiet little berg is Dorhaven, damn shame about the attack. I can't imagine what kind of troubles its going to cause. Think half the town has already packed up and moved on elsewhere's." Bear rattled on, barely giving his guest time to answer.

"What you doing here so ill equipped? Got family here?" He asked turning to Annie with a plate of venison and gravy he'd made from the juice.

"Thanks," Annie murmered, wrapping the blanket around her and sitting down next to the bander. He seemed personable enough, even though Annie had never actually encountered one up close before. "Aye, I've got a name. Annie. Annie November. Pleased to meet ye, Bear." An appropriate name, she thought.


Annie looked around at the small--very small--house. It looked hardly bigger than her room back at the boarding house. "Inherited? Did you lose family in the attacks? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You're right, though. The town seems pretty much deserted. A tad creepy, ifn ye ask me."


Annie eyed the plate in Bear's hands with a greedily starving look, but did everything she could not to drool on herself. "Nah, no family. At least, not direct family. I came to visit a, erm, dear old friend o' mine who might could shed some light on things, so I can maybe know what exactly we're all gonna be up against soon. And I'm looking for the uncle of a friend who works in a bar in town. Sean Rankin. Maybe ye know o' him?" A little help in finding Fion's uncle would definitely do wonders for Annie's self esteem, that was for sure.

Bear made a large "Haroomf" sound as he searched his crystal clear memory of all the faces and names he knew, the list was substantial. "No, afraid I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Rankin. I do know ol' Monty what runs the pub, I'm sure he'd know where to find this Rankin." Bear boomed, his voice particularly big sounding in the small space.

"Tell ya what, soon as we've eaten and had ourselves a smoke and a bit of rest, we'll venture out to Picket Street, if I recall my geography of Dorhaven, and see to the Black Sheep. Sound good then?" Bear said, shaking the walls with his voice.

Annie's ears rang with each syllable the big man spoke. He's a nice guy, though, you can't hold it against him. "I sure hope this Monty fellow knows where to find him. Fion was torn up enough not knowing, I don't want to see her any worse off fer knowin'."

She dug into the plate before her. The meat was delicious, dripping with gravy, and it was all she could do to not inhale every last bit in two seconds. She swallowed and wiped her mouth before continuing, "Eatin and restin sounds like a good plan to me. You do good things with meat, Bear."