The first rays of the dawn sun stirred Coran back to the waking world and he roused Mistale with a gentle kiss on her head as it lay pillowed on his shoulder, but there was no sign of the breathtakingly gorgeous red-headed Sunite cleric. Readying themselves for the day long trek southeast around the Velarswood to her home, they descended to the common room to break their fast, only to find Tessele, now garbed in much more sensible traveling attire of fine chainmail and leather, already there as she gestured for them to join her. “I’d like to join you on the road to Harrowdale town if you’d allow me,” she inquired as they settled at the table with her. “I have no pressing business elsewhere and the Flametresses have already moved on to their next destination.” “I have no objection,” Mistale replied with a coy smile, more that willing to share the journey with the alluring priestess, knowing what her motivation was… to further entice Coran to embrace Sune over Selune. “I have none either,” the monk agreed thoughtfully, still unsure whether he should give into her tempting persuasions and accept that Lady Firehair had taken a special interest in his path to enlightenment… as well as bestowing a blessing on him. Their travels were relatively easy, working their way back to the Harrowdale Ride, the road form the dale’s only major town that became the Halfaxe Trail as it entered the Cormanthor behind them, then on to the town, arriving just before sunset, where Mistale announced with a heavy sigh; “I’d better face this battle alone… it’ll be enough of row without bringing strangers home. Get a room at the Anchorage and I’ll met you at the Tankard when I’ve taken all the abuse I can stand.” Then she turned north toward the Market, leaving the others to head a block south to the comfortable inn. “I don’t understand,” Tessele inquired in a concerned tone, “will her family not be pleased that she’s returned home safe and sound?” “Her father wanted her to join her family’s merchant business rather than… as he put it… ‘going off galivanting around the wilds with low-lives and rogues’”, Coran explained with equal concern in his voice. “But she was drawn to the life of a wandering bard and the trill of adventuring, So, she left home against his wishes, despite being warned that if she did she’d never be welcome under his roof again.” “How could a man say such a thing to his own daughter,” she snarled with disgust, then bemoaned; “Not that I know what even having a father is like.” Seeing the confused look on his face, she explained; “My mother was a festhall girl the wharf-side slums of Yhaunn… if she knew who my father was she took his name to her grave when I was just fourteen. When the festhall master demanded I either earn my keep or get out, I chose the street over letting the lecherous bastard defile me. Fortunately, I was found and saved by a priestess of Sune who took me to the temple and offered me a place in Lady Firehair’s loving embrace… that was the first time in my life I felt like a belonged.” Understanding her dedication to her faith much better now, Coran lead the way into the Anchorage inn, watching in amusement as the inn keeper literally stumbled over himself to provide the breathtakingly beautiful Sunite with the best room he had available. After devesting themselves of the traveling gear, including Tessele’s weapons and shield, they headed next door to the humorously named Toss Your Tankard tavern, known by the locals as just the Tankard, a far more sedate drinking establishment than its name would suggest, where every eye in the place stared longingly at her and enviously at him, while they settled into a quite table, dining on the house special of buns stuffed with slice cheese and meats and rich local ale as they waited for Mistale to join them. When the beautiful half-elf arrived a few hours later, Coran to tell she was clearly distressed from across the room, motioning to the serving girl to bring her a drink before she even waded her way through the crowd to their table.